Wait. Wait. Wait.
Monday. I’ve been waiting a week for the weather and wind gods to deliver a still pre-dawn and waste no time in sending an SMS message to Bernie, my photo buddy in the next village. It’s still not 05:00, but he’s up and about already – as enthusiastic about the conditions as I am.
We meet and make our way ten kilometres or so eastwards along the coast to a tiny spot where the road borders the ocean and its waves pound the shore in clouds of spray and foam.
Not today though. The conditions are great, but the ebbing tide doesn’t offer us much in the wave action department.
No matter. Bernie wanders off on his own mission and I ponder a deep furrow, leading to the waves. Ignoring a large piece of timber washed inshore from the weekend’s storm, I set up and opt for the 50mm view, tight enough to give a decent view between the rocks and just wide enough to capture the blush of the morning sun touching the rock on the extreme right.
I know that under the strictest scrutiny, someone will tell me that bright spot is distracting and that I should have thought my composition through differently. True, but in this space and time, I think it works well, especially with the sunlit mountain and houses in the distance.
Turning from the classic landscape view, I see that the the surrounding rocks closer to the ocean are being touched by the fast-rising sun, which turns their sandstone yellows and rosy reds into seemingly endless photographic opportunities.
An hour (and more) flashes past.
Bernie re-appears and reminds me that it is well past 07:00, the light is losing it’s soft morning glow and fast becoming full-on African day.
“Coffee,” he intones and with that, our morning shoot is done.
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