Piedras Blancas Seal Rookery

I first visited the Piedras Blancas seal rookery in 2010 on my first visit to the Central Coast area. In December the seals are cheek-by-jowl, jostling for space and trying to catch the weak winter sun. Lest you think that this is a quiet, sanguine little beach, the seals are constantly snorting, barking, growling and making farting noises that will leave the 8 year-old in you snickering. Graceful only in the ocean, they shuffle, roll and collapse into scattered heaps of blubber. Their only captivating features are their eyes.

The main Piedras Blancas seal observation area is often busy, filled by tourists spilling out of buses and jostling each other for good spots to get photos of the seals. However, the seals are often too far away for really good shots unless you have a long telephoto. Even then, setting up a tripod will get you scowls and people are likely to trip over it, ruining your shot.  There's a wooden fence keeping visitors from encroaching on the seals' territory, and for good reason, given some folks' judgment. Bottom line, it's not easy to get a good shot here. But, there's a solution.

Head 1.3 miles south of the main observation area and you'll find a parking lot at the "Vista Point." (Look for the blue sign.) Park at the southernmost end of the lot and then take the path at the end of the lot about 100 yards further. You'll find yourself on the edge of a bank 10' or less from the seals, where you can get as many shots as you want. The two times I've visited this spot I've had it to myself.

The seals are either curious, napping or preoccupied with their battles for territory. There is no fence, but of course you absolutely should not climb down the bank. There's really no reason to--you can get all the shots you want with little effort. Respect the seals and leave them to their little corner of the coast.

Point Sur from Garrapata State Park

Point Sur at Dawn

I spent part of my first day in Big Sur scouting for likely locations for sunrise shots. I saved them in my GPS so that I could find them the next day when I was half awake. The challenge of sunrise photos in the Big Sur area is that the sun is behind the mountains for at least an hour before you actually see it. On the other hand, it can create beautiful colors, as it did on this particular December morning.

Big Sur from Garrapata State Park

I parked in the turn out and unpacked my gear, and promptly tripped over a root snaking out from the underbrush. Fortunately, I didn't have my camera in my hand and there was no one there to see me fall on my ass. I made my way down a trail with my coffee, tripod and backpack more or less securely in hand. The sage smelled wonderful and I would pinch some between my fingers to capture the aroma. I could hear the crashing of the waves below me and the seagulls wheeling overhead. It was delightful solitude.

As the sun crept up behind Point Sur I captured these images and promised myself to return someday. 

Patience is a Photographic Virtue

How Not to Take Good Photos

Here are the keys to photographic success:

1. Buy an expensive DSLR.
2. Roar up to a turnout near a scenic outlook.
3. Thrust camera out of the window and take several frames.
4. Drive off.
5. Admire your work at home.

This really happened and I caught it, mostly by accident. I was positioned at the Hurricane Point turnout just south of the Bixby Bridge in Big Sur, waiting for the light from the setting sun to get just right. My camera was mounted on my tripod and every few minutes I took a frame or two. Suddenly, a car drove up and the scene I just described unfolded. I swung around and captured it.

I don't know how good the woman's photos were. Maybe they were spectacular; maybe they were blurry because it was a low-light situation and she shot without support. But beyond her haste to take pictures, I know she could not appreciate the beauty below us in the few seconds she was there. As I stood on the high bluff overlooking the rocky Big Sur coast I was able to enjoy the golden light falling on the blue Pacific water and the vista laid out before me. Now, when I look at the image below, I will not only enjoy the photo itself, I'll be transported back to the hour I spent experiencing the landscape. Her memory will be much different.

Bixby Bridge at Dusk

For me, photography isn't just about creating an image for my future enjoyment. It's also a pathway to re-experiencing what I did to capture the image. I want to be relive the smells, sounds and the totality of the sensory experience when, years later, I gaze at it and remember how much I enjoyed creating it and the time I devoted to doing so.
What will she remember?