End of Summer
Labor Day Sunset at Indian Head
by Muriah, 09-05-05

The slightest hint of Autumn was in the air and I was already in emotional hibernation, unwilling to face the end of summer. I wanted nothing more than to get back to my warm house as the highway took me past the beach and I saw that the tide was further from the shore than anytime I had explored there in adulthood and I know not to ignore such an invitation.

Indian Head Rock had been especially intriguing since the mother deer had lived there for a summer with her twin fawns appearing in photos across the world standing at the top of that huge seastack cliff in its mote of breakers looking too toward the shore, along with the features of a face with the unmistakable nose of the native Indians.

At the time I was too busy working at the county fair, when my mother decided to go investigate. She told of going there at a very low tide and walking onto the rock where there is a low shelf on the south side and then following that onto the green back of the rock on the seaward slope where hardy vegetation weathers the storms and draughts of the seasons and all the winds.

"When I got up to the deer," she said, "I looked for her fawns and didn't see them. Then I realized that I might be between her and them and that she might attack me and knock me off the cliff."

Yet another "heads up" notice about the dangers of going solo without filing a flight plan, but it seems to never interfere whenever we get the call of the wild.

The deer on top was a frequently seen and discussed sight that summer. Some said that she had wisely chosen to raise her fawns there out of reach of the cougars, bears and bobcats. Some said that she was probably just exploring new grazing and got stranded there. Many wondered how she was getting enough to drink. In the mornings, we noted the dew in our yards and were comforted that the mother deer could lick the moisture from the leaves. The babies would have the milk.

Before the end of the county fair that July, we heard that a fawn was seen at the base of the rock, its body moving lifeless in the surf. Days later the vision of the deer ended.

As I approached I was glad to see that there was sand all the way to the craggy shelf, but then I was forced back when a surge re-created a mote around the seastack and I was reminded that I, too could be stranded on that rock if I didn't keep aware of the tide.

I didn't find the way up to the back that my mother and the mother deer had used, but there was a beautiful pool to lure the photographer in me, to capture a scene usually unseen.

Every time there was a surge, I looked to see whether it was still not too deep to wade through with cameras high and dry. I wondered if my companion Snazzy would know to pull me ashore if I lost my footing in the surf. Upriver at our favorite swimming hole, we had done that just for practice once, me deadweight afloat holding handfuls at his hips.

Suddenly a light went out. I looked to the hills and saw that there was no more strong light and shadow. Surprised that the sun might have gone down without my awareness, I hurried to get to the north side of the rock to see. I was glad for the watershoes to get over the loose wet kelp, the sharp rocks and crunching mussel shells left empty by the large community of huge ravenous starfish. What a mistake it would have been to be in the slippery thongs.

I was pleased to see that the sun was still lighting the horizon with all the color of its departure through our thickest view of the atmosphere. Wisps of clouds like luxurious sky lashes glowed pink and reflected in the watery glass of sand. Huge character shaped boulders dominated the watery scene in silhouette.

As the sun was departing from our day, a chill breeze teased across the water, thrilling it and me.

My shutter finger worked as fast as possible with heartfelt hope to succeed in capturing the glorylight of the moment. And then I hurried to get the point-and-shoot camera from the bag and get it powered on and clicking as fast as possible, some horizontal and then switch for some vertical. Oh that there be one that would give the feeling of that moment to those who see. I was aware that I was praying that I wasn't doing it wrong, switching when I did.

When the body of the sun was gone from sight, the entire beach line glowed peachy, but I became aware that my fingers were so cold from that bit of breeze that I couldn't even feel the shutter button. As I walked back toward my car, some of the views were so overwhelmingly beautiful that I stopped and took my hands out of my pockets and my camera out of the bag and used my thumb to push the button.

The tide was so far out that the creek spread so wide and so thin that I could walk across the bottom of it without getting water over the soles of my watershoes.

Midstream I saw that I was in the midst of almost incredible beauty that could be captured by skilled photography in a slow expose and perhaps a tripod. My fingers held mutiny in their pockets. Well, then, another time. I will come midstream prepared. I will have gloves in my camera case.

I am grateful for what I have.

I am blest to be here now.


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Indian Head Sphynx Sunset
http://www.pbase.com/muriah/image/48839417
Indian Head Sphynx Reflection
http://www.pbase.com/muriah/image/48838681
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