A Bench by the Sea

Sitting on a stone bench, I watched the cold morning's wind skip across the Atlantic like a stone on a pond. I kicked some moss into the wind, stretched my back and nestled my fingers into the depths of my down jacket to protect them from the constant nibbles of the late fall breeze. For an untold amount of time, I repeated this process in a distant daze known only to a morning person with ADD. I pondered this and contemplated that.

This Thanksgiving I forwent the 3,000-mile jaunt back to the Northwest and instead made the 75-mile drive down to Cape Elizabeth. For the first time in my 21 years, I spent a holiday without kin but with a close friend and his family. In the mornings I would wake early and wander down towards the crashing waves and whistling wind.

The constant sound of waves crashing against the jagged shoreline formed a rough melody for my daydreams. Suddenly avoiding the occasional overzealous wave and staying out of ankle-deep tide pools whilst hopping from one kelp-covered rock to another replaced my superficial worries.

Meandering down the shoreline one morning, I climbed over a large rock to see a rock bench set into the a hillside. Despite a dilapidated sign offering a halfhearted warning, I kicked back and made myself comfortable.

Oh life's simple joys...

Here are some more links,
A Bench by the Sea (Picasa).

A Wall in My Room: Part 2

Used things have stories more dynamic and textured than anything bought in a store on black Friday. They may be harder to find and have problems, but this only adds to their story. Here are some of my favorite used things that I have found over the last few months.

I picked up these white bucks at the Kiwanis in Ann Arbor this summer. The Longwings are my tried and true Ralph Lauren's. I found this trading blanket at a yard sale for 8 dollars. Somewhere along the line, pink edging was sewn on to protect frayed edges.

Rust and white.

I got these overalls at Stock Vintage. They are from the 30's and have decades of blood and grease worn into the denim.

I found this flag at a flea market near my school. It's now displayed front and center. Red, White and blue.

This holiday season, find gifts that tell stories.

Here are some more links,

A Wall in My Room: Part 2 (Picasa),

A Wall in My Room (ART).

With Me At All Times

I started taking photos a little more than a year ago. Since then I have tried to have a camera with me at all times. Sometimes I see nothing and sometimes I slam on the brakes while going 60 to have another look. Here are some images from the last two months that have caught my eye and made me drop what I was doing in order to try to capture the moment.

I don't know what I like in these pictures. In some I like the colors, in others it's the contrast or the objects in them. A very smart person once told me to not try to rationalize why you like something, just listen to your instinct.

A tidal bay in Maine.

This feels like Maine..

On the Oregon Coast, walking back after looking at waves.

Wet leaves in the Columbia River Gorge.

Here are some more links,
With Me at all Times (Picasa).

Surfing after Sunset

Last weekend, Virginia declared a state of emergency and Atlantic City flooded. For a Maine surfer dedicated enough to don a thick wetsuit, booties and gloves, news like this means one thing: waves are coming to Maine like the British to the Falklands in '82.

I spent the weekend cramped in a car with four college students and our surfing gear, driving around the Maine coast in search of the optimum pit. Unlike other parts of the Northeast, Maine's coastline is relatively unexplored by surfers. An inherent sense of exploration combined with the intensity of surfing when it's freezing out creates an experience few will ever enjoy.

On Sunday evening we ran into the water twenty minutes before sunset on an exposed shore break northeast of Bath. After two tries I made it past the whitewater and thundering waves, finally stopping my feverish paddling 75 yards from the beach. Looking around I spotted my two roommates evenly spaced 100 yards apart bobbing around in the white caps.

For thirty minutes I bobbed around the waves in my own world, observing curious seals and catching the tastiest waves. As time marched on, the sun sunk toward the horizon, bringing a warm light to the low fog.

As the last rays illuminated the fall sky, I paddled in and sat on the beach. One by one my roommates followed the waves into the beach and we congregated at the edge of the surf. We swapped stories as the foam from the whitewater shot around us.

(Spencer Philips took this picture)

We lay on our backs until the first stars of the night shined through the low fog. Who says you have to surf in the summer?

Here are some links,
Surfing at Sunset (Picasa).