Twenty Years and Eight Feet High

Narragansett, RI

I didn’t find time to get out and photograph in July.

I’ve been making up for lost time this August and have taken several trips at the weekends to coastal Massachusetts and Maine.

I’ve also hit up some spots closer to home that I’ve visited before.

Not gonna lie: I rather like living within forty minutes of beaches, traffic permitting. I grew up in New Jersey and spent a good chunk of my adult life there, though much farther away from the shore.

Strolling along the ocean with camera gear in hand and on my back is definitely my vibe.

I headed down to Narragansett early in the evening yesterday to see if I could capture the remnants of Hurricane Erin’s wake as it continues its track north and east out to sea.

I can confidently say that these were the roughest waves I’ve seen in person. A bit mind boggling considering that the storm has lost much of its strength and is at least 200 miles off shore.

Although I didn’t let these larger breakers stop me altogether, I kept a healthy distance from the water’s edge.

Even then, the ocean came in pretty close at times. And a lot of the beach that I’m normally able to move around on was inundated.

There are signs posted everywhere asking visitors to be wary of rip currents and forbidding swimming.

I’m guessing at the height of the surf crashing against the boulder in the center of frame in the title to today’s blog post.

The waves grew a lot stronger as the late afternoon moved towards evening and high tide approached. By then, though, my camera battery had died, and I was forced to continue with just my phone’s camera.

We’re coming up on the twentieth anniversary of Hurricane Katrina just under a week from today.

I was in my second year of graduate school when it struck the Gulf Coast, devastating not just New Orleans and the surrounding areas of southeastern Louisiana but also parts of Mississippi.

I was far safer than the people who desperately pleaded for help on the top of the Super Dome. I did not walk the 70 some miles from NOLA to Baton Rouge as many did.

The worst I suffered was loss of power in the heat of summer.

I wasn’t in any serious danger at any point yesterday either.

I did fear for some people who I thought weren’t taking the warnings seriously and yelled at them to get away from the sea wall.

Today’s share freezes in time the inspiring power of the ocean for us to contemplate.

It’s easy to stand in awe, as I did while pressing my camera shutter more times than I usually do trying to get the perfect moment of sea spray meeting rock.

It’s also a reminder of the ocean’s sometimes dreadful dominion. It can easily take away all that we hold dear. Without pity or remorse.