Reflecting on Self (and Selfies)

This wasn't a selfie, but a driver's license.  A current conversation with a friend:

One old driver's license, I showed it to a very good friend and said, "Look at this. I look dead in the photo."

Old Friend said, "It takes ten years off you."

I said, "Ten years off dead--what's that?"

OF smiled, wryly.


(OF always keeps me down to earth.)

Fieldwork

JP, working.

Waiting for the Blow

Photo courtesy of JP.

Here's that shot, by the way:

Boats and Gear

Pacific Swimming On A Grey Day

Went swimming off Lindamar Beach, Pacifica CA, with the surfers. Mask & snorkel; fins; wetsuit; squid-lid; camera. Visibility, as you'd expect at a sandy beach, was almost nil in the water.

Four porpoises cruised through the line-ups, though I didn't get any shots myself. Two were within a dozen feet of me, but I didn't have the camera ready in time.

Have to do better next time.

Age is a number, just a number, they say.  Just the passage of time, wayward time.

I say, time to wend my way back into shape.

Flying the Flag

I don't worry too much about fitting in, but a sense of community still feels good. Among the communities that have made me feel good, I have to rank the beachside parking lot full of divers fairly highly. I recall how my buddy Keith and I did our (old-school) diver training back in the late 70s and we went diving up and down Northern California, but we wouldn't put stickers on our cars or wear dive t-shirts until we felt we earned the right after a year or so. Then, we each put a modest diver-flag on our bumpers. (I think my dad gave me one that read "Think Deep.") And, we kept diving fairly frequently, at least for a few years before English grad school and law school distracted us. Nowadays, I like walking up the beach, in a soaking wetsuit, pulling that kayak with the rocket fins and weightbelt and other gear secured properly, getting and sharing the nods and smiles of like-minded souls in pursuit of salty experiences. I shoot my fish and creatures with a camera, but I still can talk abalone and spearfishing, and I like hearing those stories.

Seal-Bird Island and the Rocking Zoom

That sort of fringe on the top of the rocky islet?  Can you see what I mean?  (Move a little closer; enlarge the shot, perhaps.)  I am fairly sure those are birds, standing tall in the wind.   Or, a good many of them are birds, though some are seals, noses held high.

At first I thought they were all seals, a whole lot of seals providing that visual fringe effect, and in fact the creatures on the rocks closer to the water are seals, dozens of them.  

(What do you call a whole lot of seals?  A salvage of seals? A savory?  A soiree? A sea?  A season?)

Now, I'll give you a sequence of shots that illustrate the difficulties of attempting to use the zoom on my amphibious camera -- a camera better suited to close-ups and arm's-length captures -- while balancing in a closed-deck kayak.  I love the motion, myself, but the results are a bit up-and-down in quality.

Off Bodega Bay on a very sunny day.

Happy paddling.

Caption? "Dude, Where's My Kayak?"

Or, "Paddles at dawn!"
(With a nod to SC.)

An old shot.  2008 or, most likely, 2009?  I picked up that shirt in Hawaii in 2008 with Keith . . . .

(I've been ill with a sore throat and a general achiness today, and so I've been taking solace in memories of past fun and folly.)

Time-Travel: Take Four

Photo of a photo.  1965 vintage, perhaps.
Between more formal posturings, wouldn't you say?
Or after.  Mostly candid capture here, though one fellow is tracking the camera still.

(Me? The small fry in front.)

Happy Father's Day, Dad!

 If you had been here this morning, you just might have taken this shot.

Practice Session

Flat out: I'm a diver, not a surfer. It's been at least two years since I last had my board out, and when I take that board out, I'm a kook. But I'm a respectful kook. I know my limitations, and I respect and follow basic water etiquette. I'll take a beating from the wave before (knowingly) getting in a surfer's way.

I'm also respectful because I love surfing's stories. The history, the personalities, the motions, the emotions, and the images. I've been a student of surfing for quite a while, and I've taught a few books about the surfing experience and a few documentary films in my English classes . . . from the perspective of a definite water-guy and respectful rookie.

Normally, I prefer to attempt surf photography from out in the surf. This day, however, was dreary and cold, I was feeling a bit too lazy, and so I shot from the beach. I need the practice, so here are some draft-shots, some work-in-progress shots.

I should have got right into the water, but I spent time on the beach and let myself get cold, despite sweatshirts, fleeces, jackets, and hats ready in the truck. I was focused on the water and on the flotsam and jetsam at the water's edge, not on the wind chill. I'm feeling guilty about not getting in, so next time . . . jump right in!

I also couldn't decide if I was shooting the water or the surfers, and that's a rookie mistake, of course.

I like the landscape shot above, though it's more seascape, I guess. The textures in the water are what caught my attention. I decided on the Bird Island backdrop since these sorts of shots taken straight out to sea just don't work as well.

I like watching how surfers handle the oncoming wave almost as much as watching a successful ride. Maybe because I'm more likely to need multiple evade-and-bail techniques at present, still.
Above: That was a decent wipeout, but I missed the moment. I have to work on that.

I am not the only one practicing. That wave is already over, but he's going to make it. I need to practice like that, over and over, as well as everything else.

One duck-diver, one boogie-boarder, and one surfer prepping if the wave pans out.

Above: Pushing through. I was thinking he should have duck-dived (duck-dove?), but his way worked. What do I know?
Odd shot, but I like it.

Caught inside!

I like watching the surfers and their moves, but I like watching the water even more. Here comes a wave, and the flex and roll of the water's surface always hold my attention.

This one's mine. I actually thought this one would run up the rocks and drench me. That would have been okay, would have been proper chastisement for not getting wet already.

Finny

I had to look three times before I realized what I was really seeing, and now I can't see that blurry bit of kelp I had thought I had seen.

Those are my rocket fins in action.

What happens when the camera accidentally goes off. I had thought I'd de-powered the device, but, no, once again I shoot my legs . . . but I like this one.

I'm swimming downward in a kelp forest out in Monterey Bay; the camera is pointed upward. Look at that green water; it was cold, but that's what wetsuits are for. (Thank you, Jack O'Neill and company.)

"Green Luck": an alternative caption.

Water Polo: Favorite Shots

Happy goalie.

Ready for the shot.

No way!

Focus. Lean into it.

Up and away.

"Oh no!" (Offstage: "Oh yes!")

"This is going in."

SCORE! (Uh-huh.)

Here are a few of my favorite shots from the Fall 2010 season for the Lady Spartans, my niece's high school water polo team. Character in action.

By the way, my niece is known for her full court shots from the goalie position all the way across and into the opposing goal. A long shot, for sure, but often a score. Kudos.

Postcard: Time-Travel

The Goof Squad, sun-struck, 1968.

Tomorrow, I am going to get the same haircut I'm sporting in the picture. Of course, what was blond then is brown and gray and white now. I still have the same smile though, at least when the sun is in my face.

Annotations: Delgado, Doubilet, and Drumm

As part of Fall 2008's research project, I have produced an annotated bibliography of 129 nonfiction texts, all associated with aquatic subjects. I read far further in water-related fiction and nonfiction in the last eight months, but I decided on the specific bibliography in relation to teaching my courses, English 1A, English 93, and the prospective elective "Literature and the (Aquatic) Environment." Of course, not all 129 books on my list would suit our courses, but I had to read (or reread) to discover such fitness or lack of fitness. I share my findings for each one itself and for the critical model at work.

Here are the next three books in the bibliography:

Delgado, James P. Adventures of a Sea Hunter: In Search of Famous Shipwrecks. Vancouver: Douglass & McIntyre, 2004.

This book is solid and informative, but finding shipwrecks just seems too technical and less fun than in the days of Mel Fisher. (Reminder: see Daley's Treasure.) I need to reread this book; maybe it's more fun than I recall (since I read it on an airplane to Hawaii, restless with anticipation of the diving ahead).

Doubilet, David. Water Light Time. New York: Phaidon, 2006.

Excellent book of photographs, particularly underwater photographs and just-at-the-surface photographs, much less common (and much less sought after, I guess). I put this book next to the 3-D photos when I want to give someone the best sense of being in the water without spraying them with a hose or tossing them off a dock. In other words, visually effective and engaging.

Drumm, Russell. In the Slick of the Cricket: A Shark Odyssey. New York: Penguin, 1997.

If you have ever seen Jaws, well, you've met the main figure of this book through the crusty, obsessive shark-killing character played by Robert Shaw, though the Frank Mundus of Drumm's book is a bit smoother than the film's Quint. Mundus is the star of the show, though Drumm's descriptions are the key to the book's effectiveness. I have been tempted to use this book in English 93 or 96, both for the obvious attraction of any shark-story and for the portrayal of psychology in action. I felt salty after reading this book, though also a bit depressed. In this world, there are too many shark-killers and too many dead sharks, but that's the subject of a different book.

Annotations: Birkett, Blossom, Blum

As part of a research project, I have produced an annotated bibliography of 129 nonfiction texts, all associated with aquatic subjects.

Here are three more entries:

Birkett, Dea. Serpent in Paradise. New York: Anchor, 1998.

This is an annoying book that I finished more to find out about Pitcairn Island, the most isolated inhabited island on the Earth, than to discover anything more about the author. Generally, I like such a mix of autobiography, obsession, history, sociology, and adventure, but in Birkett's hands, the narrative becomes a spiteful, depressing pile of gossip and innuendo at the expense of the Pitcairn Islanders who were good enough to welcome Birkett to their very small island. Still, worth reading once to find out what has been happening to the Pitcairn Islanders since Fletcher Christian and his crew of mutineers began to populate this refuge after the Mutiny on the Bounty. Or, barely worth reading? I'm still debating that one.

Blossom, Laurel, Ed. Splash: Great Writing about Swimming. Hopewell, NJ: Ecco, 1996.

Blossom's anthology is a mix of fiction and nonfiction, actually. It's a fine collection that brings together classic short pieces (Cheever's "The Swimmer" and Updike's "The Lifeguard") with a full array of poetry and practical nonfiction all on the theme of swimming. I wish that Ben Franklin's lessons on how to swim were included also, but I know where to find that piece anyway.

Blum, Mark. Beneath the Sea in 3-D. San Francisco: Chronicle, 1997.

I love this photographic wonder: just as the title says. Whenever I teach essays regarding the ocean or fish or even just looking closely to discover truly, I bring this book and pass it around. Chronicle Books has a winner here.