I love the beach when it's wild and rough. And, I'm not talking about just looking at the water. I mean being IN the water. Of course, I know it's dangerous, but you have to know a little something about me. I'm a very experienced rough-water swimmer. Just to get the bragging points out of the way: I won the Swim Around Manhattan (that's the island of Manhattan, New York) in 1983. I've swum -- either solo or on teams -- across Waikiki Bay in Honolulu, across the Maui Channel (Lanai to Lahaina), across the Catalina Channel (Catalina to Los Angeles), down cold rivers in Sweden... heck, you point me to it, and I'll swim across, down, or around it. So, here's how this image came into being...
I like to visit the twin towns of Jupiter and Juno Beach when I'm in Florida. Located just north of the bump on the map where South Florida begins, these two adjoining beach towns have a spread-out, relaxed feel to them even though they're located in Florida's most populous area, Palm Beach County, which is also home to the high society and high prices of Palm Beach.
One of my regular beach haunts is Loggerhead Park in Juno Beach. The park straddles both Highways 1 and A1A that run up and down the coast. There's plenty of free parking and a dune walkover that brings you down right next to a lifeguard tower on the broad beach bordering the water, which is a gorgeous turquoise here.
I had been watching the weather map carefully, and I knew that this day would have some big waves, and I wasn't disappointed. The sun was peaking through the clouds, and the wind was whipping as I stood on the beach carefully studying the water. I ALWAYS carefully study the water before going in. My many years of swimming and surfing have taught me a lot about the visible and invisible dangers that await anyone entering the ocean. And, I've turned back and gone home more than once after spotting a dangerous rip, murky and shark-friendly water, or just an unquantifiable feeling that something was wrong.
But, on this day, everything felt right, and I prepared to go in. The waves were BIG, 8-10' plus, but they weren't the clean lines that surfers lust after. These were storm waves; choppy, gnarly, and unpredictable. I watched them intently for several minutes while I checklisted my gear: Nikonos underwater camera with a tight safety wrist strap, my Speedos with the waiststring firmly tied, swimmers Force Fins (the best), and most important of all: a Dayglow pink Lycra swim cap.
Having judged the speed of the strong side current that was running south-to-north, I started jogging down the beach to my entry point. But, not before stopping at the lifeguard tower to chat with the guard.
When things get wild at the beach I always like to check in with the lifeguards. Not only do they know what's going on, but more importantly, I want to alert them to what I'm doing and communicate to them that I know what I'm doing. The last thing I want is a lifeguard getting nervous and calling out the rescue helicopter. They can tell by looking at me that I'm probably not going to be their next drowning victim, but I don't take any chances, and I drop lots of hints laced with swimmer and surfer lingo. I also put my hot pink swim cap on and point to it. They will be able to watch my every move.
Once I got the nod of approval, I headed down the beach, put on my fins, and slid into the churning water.
It was rough, and I took my time alternately swimming and ducking under the waves in order to make my way out to the main surf line. This is the point where the waves meet the first shallow point on the rising bottom, and where they peak up to their full height before crashing down with bone-crushing intensity. This is usually an identifiable line in the water, and I wanted to get past this point, since the action is a little too fast and furious there. Diving under each oncoming wave, and sometimes going down deep to grab hold of the sand bottom to keep from losing ground, I eventually made my way into the relatively calmer and deeper water. Here, the waves were still breaking but with the more characteristic spilling shape where the white water rolls down the face of the wave instead of plunging top to bottom as in the other surf zone.
I took some time to catch my breath and lower my pulse rate before lifting the camera to start taking pictures. I tried different angles and different positions for the photos. Sometimes I rode the crest of the wave to the top and shot looking back down the face. Other times I waited at the bottom as the wave roared over me.
I never know what I'm going to end up with when I do this kind of photography. I'm constantly being thrown, tossed, and turned upside down, so all I can do is point, aim, shoot, and hope for the best. With this camera, I have 36 shots maximum, and I was near the end of the roll when I saw this big and beautiful, blue-green wave approaching. Because I'm using a 35mm wide-angle lens, which tends to flatten and shrink all objects, the size of the wave is disguised. It was HUGE, and I was able to get off just one shot before it completely smothered me.
I had the photo lab process the slide film as one, long roll, and I instantly picked this frame out when I reviewed the film. I had it drum-scanned, and I spent about a week adjusting it. Everything in the image is real and as it was when I captured it, but I wanted to fine-tune it as best I could.
I've since made prints of this image in various sizes, including one big IRIS inkjet print that is stunning in the house where it hangs. That large framed print definitely commands attention, and it communicates well the size and power of this wonderful wave on that memorable day on the beach in Florida.
-- Harald