This picture has what I would refer to as a "Zen" quality wherein a simple image suggests a calm and visually appealing subject, almost inevitably nature-based. It is perfect to illustrate the microcosm of natural wonder all around us here. The Wild Pacific Trail just north of Blackrock Lodge is only moments away from our home and within moments of leaving my door, I am walking it's inviting pathways, and this type of scene presents itself to me in a constant parade of colour, form and light.
Obviously, the star attraction is the mighty Pacific Ocean, and yesterday, it was doing its best to impress. The seas weren't quite as high as the one last week that we witnessed from by the lighthouse, but very respectable!
To the astonishing chaos of the churning cauldron behind you:
Every once in a while, you're rewarded with a scene that manages to knit together both the serenity and chaos.
Yesterday was also a good weather day for dramatic pictures. Funny, people love a sunny day, but they're really the shits for photography... the highlights are blown out and the shadows blocked up. People look like raccoons. Give me the overcast, or even better, partially overcast, so I can get some nice drama out of the skies. Remember, as landscape photographers, we're really shooting the weather, that's what changes. (And, of course, the surface of the ocean, for those of us on the coast.)
Here's a couple that were ripe for black and white conversion:
OK, I hear you saying, what the hell has any of this got to do with relativity? Time dilation... is the old fool finally off the rails all together?
Actually no (well not quite). The point I'm trying to make became clear to me during a stop at one of the many benches along the trail. I was taking a rest, sitting and watching the waves and I checked my phone and saw that I'd missed a couple of messages from Marcelle. She hadn't been able to raise me and was now on her way out to find me. Egads!
Evidently we had just experienced time dilation. What seemed only a short time for me, seemed inordinately long for her. I had completely lost track of time and had been gone nearly five hours. (Not that this is that much of an issue for the retired!)
Why is it that a partner left behind always expects the worst? Rather than assume I was just dawdling along (as I am wont to do), I get: "I could just picture you lying injured on the rocks!". I'm not sure where this expectation comes from as I have trouble enough with the stairs at home, and don't have the balance to play mountain goat.
Speaking of goats, just a quick aside here: Best fun for less than $5.00?
- Buy a bag of nice big marshmallows.
- Find a goat.
- Give the goat a marshmallow.
- Hilarity ensues.
- Repeat from step 3 (the goat knows when to stop)
And I'm no better with the paranoia... when Marcelle disappears down the beach ('cause that's what you do on a beach), I'm always imagining she's being stalked by mad rapists and various and sundry other scum.
All's well that ends well, however. She agreed to meet me at the first bench for the sunset, and I agreed that I'd text next time. And the best part: she brought food and latte! Oh excellent woman, worthy woman!
It's all relative. You see.
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