Went to Charleston last weekend for a wedding, but managed to still find my way out on a boat. This picture was taken by simply opening up the shutter speed and dragging it across the subject’s face.
Category Archives: Uncategorized
Fashion Cow
Never exercised the plastic filter in Photoshop until now, but I think it works in this case. And if you were wondering, the model is far from plastic.
Picnic Island
My guess is that the city of Tampa offered up Picnic Island as a concession to give a large amount of oceanfront land over to industry. They also built a bunch of lifeguard towers, but later realized they would have to pay trained people to sit there. No matter, a lifeguard tower is a great place to watch the sun set.
Innocence
There has been some lapse since I picked up the proverbial pen, and the reason is undeniably warranted. I recently experienced one of life’s innate and most special gifts, the birth of my son.
Houston Leiding Payne was born on August 28, 2008, and my life is forever changed.
The date on which he was born has some significance. Not as some unique identifier of who he shall become, but of context as it relates to history and the current state of our country and the world. It is the date of Martin Luther King’s historic speech, and Obama’s acceptance of the Democratic nomination for president of the United States.
I have never voted for party but always for country. I vote for intellectual promise, not a firm resolve. Each time I’ve filled out a ballot I was keenly aware of inherent problems with both sides of the fence.
Come soon we must again choose with the best of our conviction and consideration of the facts as we know them to be true, understanding that the rest is simply rhetoric.
Do not just listen to the politicians, pundits, media, friends, or even family. Do some research before you vote.
I want change.
I want the best for my son.
Dinner Time for a Tampa Bay Dolphin
Yesterday evening I took my regular bike route along Bayshore, also known as the Boulevard of Dreams, to Davis Island and back when I came across this dolphin corralling fish. I pulled out my little Powershot A620 and shot some video. At one point he or she leapt from the water with a fish at the tip of its mouth. It went on for a while and was quite amusing.
Narrows
I recently turned 34, and this is where I found myself.
A Big Jump for a Big Dog
Goose seemed to be the most appropriate name for him. After all he was silly as a goose and just as white. At five weeks of age he demonstrated a playful but determined demeanor, and I could not help but notice the size of his paws as he not-so-innocently swatted at his smaller siblings. Goose was going to grow up to be a big Yellow Lab.
The Early Days
Born and raised in South Carolina, and son of Oscar B and Lady Allison Guinevere, Goose was trouble from the start. I about killed him when one of his first acts consisted of tearing up my college text books and a very expensive pair of binoculars. Monks teach the practice of non-violence when raising puppies, but our relationship became the way of the wolf.
We eventually came to terms with one another, and I could soon trust Goose around anything. He and I would often observe, with great amusement, some spasmodic dog owner futilely shouting for their disobedient hound to heel. Patiently sitting at my feet, Goose would look up into my eyes with an omniscient expression that said, “Amateurs.”
While at Clemson University, I was fond of kayaking down the Chattooga River. Whenever I was in the process of gathering my gear, Goose would tactfully turn his convincing stare upon me, which said, “Take me with you.” When he would leap into the back of the car I simply did not have the heart to tell him to get out. Upon arrival, he would deftly use his powers to persuade me that he too could come down the river. I would let him, and he would rely on my hand commands to ferry the river currents and run the banks like he had been taught to do it.
Travels with Goose
After college we decided to strike out West together. Goose barely fit his bulk amidst the boxes and bags, but he did not care one lick. We often camped under the stars, and for Goose every day was an adventure. He marked his territory from Charleston, South Carolina to San Francisco, California, and together we discovered an America much greater and grander than we could have ever imagined.
When the money ran out we settled in Lake Tahoe where I took up a job with Patagonia. Goose was allowed to come to work with me but never inside. He spent his idol hours outside convincing athletically-inclined individuals to take him for runs on their lunch breaks. He must have gone on no less than three jaunts a day. When I had a free moment I would take the rogue to swim in the Truckee River just to be sure he still appreciated me the most.
When we were not at work we spent much of our time in the mountains. In the summer he dutifully carried his pack filled with provisions. In the winter he plowed through the powder like a pig. I would make arcing turns on my skis, and he would take the straight line. Together we made dollar signs down countless snow-covered peaks in the Sierra Nevada.
No Small Step
Goose’s unhinged energy was seemingly unparalleled. When I moved into a three-story house on Donner Lake I had the habit of throwing a tennis ball from the top of the porch only so he could run down the steps, and then up and down again and again. A friend once tried it and Goose surprisingly chose a different route. He leapt over the railing and all the way down to the ground. Despite notions of his demise, Goose returned to the 3rd floor unharmed except for a rather large manzanita branch jutting from his collar, dirt ground into his chest, and the tennis ball in his mouth. He would have gone once more, but I ordered him to lie down.
Best in Show
We were hardly the type for organized contests, but somehow we found ourselves one searing hot summer Saturday making our way down to Reno and the Sparks Marina for an ESPN dog jumping contest. We felt a little out of place amidst all of the traveling kennels, screen printed T-shirts, and choreographed routines, but we decided to give it a go nonetheless. When the announcer called for “The Flying Goose from Kings Beach, California” we approached the beach with uncertainty. I asked him to sit at the start of the dock and walked a few yards down. There was nothing but eager anticipation in his eyes and a look like he was born to be there. At the moment I yelled for him to Go Get It!, I simultaneously slung his straggly little leftover tennis ball into the lake. Goose exploded off the end of the dock and into the water, retrieved his prize, and swiftly and politely returned the sopping mass to me. Coming over the mic I heard, “that was a Biiiig jump for a Biiiig Dog!” Goose placed first in the semi-finals and third over all, only losing to a couple of lighter and leaner professionals.
Returning Home
Eventually the time came for us to beat our way back to the East and the place of our birth. But before returning to Charleston we took the long way home. We ambled through the mountains of California, Utah, and Colorado, stopping in places we had visited almost ten years before. I was reluctant to return, and I am not sure that I would have if it had not been for his companionship and boundless enthusiasm to move forward.
Time Moves On
Age is a thief that steals our most prized possessions. And with pets the work is that much quicker. It was not long after moving back East that Goose’s health began to decline. First, a slowness of gait, and then a dreaded tumor appeared. Nevertheless, the doctor’s prognosis was positive, and we went forward with the surgery. Afterwards, Goose looked as if he had been butchered; but he was undeterred. He barreled into my legs and moaned a greeting as I sympathetically patted his head. Over the course of several weeks we endured the medicines and the machinations that eventually led to his improvement. But full recovery was never meant to be.
The Final Scene
Goose lay quietly on the porch. It was late July in Charleston, but he barely panted. He had stopped making it up and down the steps and refused to eat. It was time. The veterinarian arrived at the house with his assistant. When she leaned down and asked his name, then repeated it, Goose sat up and licked her face. It was his last act.
The Big Jump
Death means they are gone even though it feels as if they are not. Memories of him are filled with adventure and youthful promise that took us across a continent and then some. I will continue on with out him, enjoying new experiences, and looking to take that next Big Jump. But his passing reminds me that we all grow older and eventually lose our closest companions.
All I am left with are his lifeless ashes, yet they pulse with the power of a former being. They remind me that no matter whether it is human, animal, or even a place, it is our proclivity to feel, an opportunity to relate, and our ability to provide support and protection that is truly important. Goose may have been just a dog, but no matter what he did in life he always gave his whole heart and asked for nothing in return but affection and understanding. He will be missed.
Go Big Goose!
Ponce Inlet
As Hurricane Bertha spun a course up the Atlantic, waves along the East Coast grew in size and changed what otherwise has been a fairly flat summer in Florida. Surf reports were calling for good conditions, and with a high pressure hovering over the state, the likelihood that it would be glassy was high.
Check out my video below.
Clean, overhead waves were a welcomed sight as we pulled onto the beach at Ponce Inlet – yes, you can drive on the beach. In fact, it was the conclusion for Daytona Beach racing, and the place where land speed records were broken several times in the early 1900s. The beach has diminished in size since those early days, but it still offers enough room for the Oneill bus to get up and down it. They got out of there just in time, however, because I saw several people return to their cars at high tide only to discover their wheels had sunk in the sand and were stuck.
This is a trick in Photoshop called, “Glowing Edges:”
My friend, Tim and I are two working stiffs who spend way too much time in the office. Nevertheless, we quickly made our way out into the lineup pausing only for a moment to remark upon the surprisingly cold temperature of the water. In between waves we spotted dolphins and did our best to keep our position against the northern course of the current. Fortunately, we had a good landmark.
The Ponce de Leon Inlet Lighthouse, which was built in the late 1800s, has long served as a marker for many mariners. In fact, it was this very lighthouse that guided author Stephen Crane to shore after 30 hours at sea and was the model for the fictional lighthouse described in “The Open Boat.” 175 feet of red brick make the Ponce Inlet Lighthouse the tallest one in Florida.
There are a few distinct surf spots as you move north away from the jetty. As you might expect, the furthest break outside is along the jetty with the remaining peaks breaking progressively closer to the beach. The best time to surf Ponce is low to incoming, but any tide works. At high tide the waves tend to be mushy outside and then reform inside as shore break.
Ponce Inlet is a great spot, but be aware that it does get pretty crowded. Situated between Daytona and New Smyrna, and directly east of Orlando, means there is a fair population of people in close proximity. In my opinion, there are many lesser known breaks in Florida that are just as good. But regardless, it is always fun to check out a new place, and Ponce Inlet is definitely worth a visit when the surf is up.
Attack of the Manatees
It is amusing how we humans tend to diminish the intensity of an animal’s true power in order to feel we are at one with them. Snuggly little stuffed bears, ball bouncing killer whales, and the basis for much of what is Disney attempt to break down the barriers between hand and claw. Aren’t they cute? But it is only as real as the choice between you, me, or them. It is survival, plain and simple. The only caveat being we seem to have the upper hand. It is up to us to decide what we want to live, and what we want to die.
Florida Manatees
For the time being, we have decided to allow enough room for 3,000 or so Florida manatees to navigate boat propellers, pollution, and encroachment to their habitat. Even when they do find a brief respite, they are assaulted by the very humans that have been generous enough to give them some room to breathe. Imagine snorkel-breathing animal enthusiasts hell-bent upon stroking the backs of innocent manatees no matter the cost. I tell you all of this only because of guilt. I recently became one of those humans who was directly responsible for infringing upon the manatees’ way of life.
On a recent sea kayaking trip out to Egmont Key, I realized through simple observation that quite a few manatees find their way up the waterways behind the island of Fort de Soto. I followed a few as they moved to deeper water with the outgoing tide, each of them displaying propeller scars on their backs as a right of passage. I tried to keep some distance, but they would often approach my sea kayak curious to see if I was something more. I tried to shoot video footage of these docile creatures, but they often surfaced and submerged before I could get anything worthwhile.
I decided to return the following weekend to see if I could capture any more video for the archives.
You Will Not Believe What Happened To Me
Almost immediately upon arriving to Fort de Soto the sky unleashed. The normally placid surface of the Gulf of Mexico turned angry and the palm trees braced against the wind. The rain beat down upon the hoods of countless cars making their way across the bridge to the dry, air conditioned safety of their Tampa Bay homes. I sat and waited. I was happy to see the earth wash itself clean of people even if for a little while.
Soon the sky cleared, and I slowly unpacked my gear and prepared for a paddle out into the Gulf. The sun beat down, and the water was slick and steamy. No one was around except for an apathetic raccoon snacking on mollusks alongside the river bank. All was quiet except for the occasional breach of air given off by distant manatees.
I saw several manatees surface a few yards away from me and then quickly disappear. I was floating quietly in the shallows when a baby appeared under the boat. I fumbled for the camera, but it was gone before I was ready. The water was murky from the rain, so I could not anticipate where they would surface next. I decided to take a less proactive approach and fished for a while in hopes they would we find me. After a while I grew tired of the attentive gnats and the disregarding fish. I decided to call it a day.
I was paddling back to my car when a rather large manatee surfaced to my left. Without thought I instantly reached my left paddle blade into the water and placed a hard brace to stop myself. I thought, maybe I could get some video footage after all? Instead, this motion immediately set off a chain of events that I am still amazed by. The manatee abruptly arced its entire body through the water kicking up a sizeable wake. It began to buck wildly, thrusting its tail out of the water as it moved quickly towards me.
Have you ever been in a situation where you curiously marveled in fear at the brute force of an animal? As the manatee’s tail came closer and closer to me I wondered if it would knock me unconscious. I did the only thing that I could do which was paddle. I began stroking like I was poised above the tallest waterfall, for that is exactly what it looked like. The water was frothed and white like a river rapid, and just as I began to pick up momentum my entire body and kayak were lifted from the water.
My sea kayak surprisingly came down right side up; although, it was filled halfway with water. I was totally drenched but naturally ecstatic to see everything was okay. I could not believe what had happened. Weren’t manatees supposed to be gentle creatures?
Because the water was clouded by the rain, I will never know exactly what happened. However, I am fairly positive that I disturbed a pair of adult manatees that were safeguarding an infant. The baby would explain the defensive behavior, and the incredible amount of agitation in the water would point to more than one manatee. Even in the moment of action, I am quite sure I felt at least two bodies push underneath me. The tide was going out, and I must have cornered them in a fairly confining space. My only other explanation is that dolphins somehow got mixed up in the melee.
I am humbled by the parents’ protective display. Manatees do not have fangs or claws, but they do have the will to survive and take care of their own. You or me would have done the same if a threatening stranger had come into our house. Next time, I will remember my place.
If you can shed any more light on what exactly happened please feel free to leave a comment.
Egmont Key State Park
“I wouldn’t paddle out there.”
That is what the guy who worked at the kayak rental shop told me when I asked about sea kayaking to Egmont Key State Park. Why, I asked?
“Full moon, out-going tide; it’s like Niagra Falls out there right now,” he said.
Well, I certainly do not want to get swept out to sea, I replied.
“I’ve been out there when the buoys were almost laid down flat from the current,” stated one of the other kayak rental attendants. “I’d suggest you go to the island in a motorboat before you attempt to paddle out there. At least wait until there is an incoming tide,” he added.
It was at this point that I began to actually question whether I should paddle out to Egmont Key. It could indeed be risky. I’d lived in the mountains a long time – maybe I was underestimating the swiftness and power of ocean currents? I had heard about the beauty and history of Egmont Key, but I had also heard that the paddle across the deep water shipping channel was only for experienced kayakers.
“Try out the kayak course behind the island,” suggested the man behind the counter.
I thanked the guys at the shop and headed back to my car. I looked out towards the Gulf of Mexico and thought, are these guys messing with me? I could see the island just 1-mile offshore. Surely it could not be that difficult?
But a voice inside of me said, perhaps you should be prudent. I continued to justify that rationale by thinking, I haven’t paddled the backside of the island yet…and I don’t want to flip out there and end up as shark bait. It was then that I decided to err on the side of caution and put-in on the established kayak course. I would tackle Egmont Key another day.
I put my Perception Carolina Kayak in the water, threw in a cooler and a fishing rod, and stuck off north towards Mullet Key and the outlet to the Gulf between Fort de Soto and Summer Resort Key.
I rode the current out and spent some leisurely time casting my rod towards the oyster banks and the mangrove roots in hopes of catching a bass or snook. At one point, I was startled by a large shape moving under the water towards me, but relaxed when I realized that it was just a manatee. I caught sight of some others and enjoyed following their sea shadows and intermittent surfacing until I lost them at the northern point of the island.
I was still bothered by the fact that I had originally planned to paddle out to Egmont but relented at the last minute. I chewed on this as I pulled over to take a swim on the front side of Fort de Soto. The water was clear and blue and stretched wide over an unending bank of shallow white sand. The water was refreshing; but I was not satisfied.
Eventually I found myself donning a spray skirt and lifejacket. I’ll just paddle a ways down the front side of the island and see how I feel, I decided. I cruised offshore, casually dipping between the waves, and progressively made my way down the length of the island. I should just paddle out to the shipping channel and see how the current is, I thought. I can always turn around.
I kept paddling until I eventually found myself directly across from Egmont Key with nothing but the 90-foot deep shipping channel between me and my target. There were plenty of boats around; in fact, some of them were actively engaged in rod-bending fights with Tarpon and other large sea creatures. I figured if anything went wrong they could at least rescue me. So, I struck off for the other side.
It was no big deal.
Sure, if you have not spent much time in a kayak and cannot roll one on your own then you should probably refrain from making the trip. But for someone who is in fair shape and capable enough, it really is not that hard. Granted, I’ve been kayaking once or twice myself, but it is really just a matter of ferrying across some current. Who knows, it is quite possible that there are times in the tide cycle where it gets worse, much worse.
Egmont Key State Park is really quite beautiful. Between the open beach front littered with palm trees, migratory birds, and turtle nests, and the interior island with its old lighthouse, red brick thoroughfares, and ruins, there is plenty to see and do. Wander the island or simply relax and stare out across the Gulf of Mexico. Either way, there is something romantic about the fact that Egmont was a resource for settlers in the 1700s, a place where Seminole Indian prisoners were kept in the 1800s, and a base for troops during the Civil and Spanish-American Wars.