Lots of Oostburgian stuff on this website as of late, but this isn't a shot of the west side of Lake Michigan, the cold side, where I grew up. That beach seems insignificant when compared to a whole gallery of beaches in Olympia National Park, so wide and rough the camera can't get it all in. That's where we were for a while, and it was beautiful.
Looks like this most all the time, the waves coming all the way from the other side of the Pacific Ocean--rough water, pounding surf. If it spends a late afternoon calm and placid, I didn't witness it. It just seemed to be always this rough.
Looks like this from even farther back (if you can, get up close--there's people down there).
The word, I suppose, is rugged--"the seacoast at Olympic National Park is take-your-breath-away rugged." Not for sissies, and not for wheelchairs. Even though I couldn't get down there, I could shoot the edges of the most rugged beaches I've ever seen.
Since wheelchairs don't run well on beach sand, I didn't get too far on those rugged, rugged immensely open spaces, but that doesn't mean I didn't love 'em--so wide, so deep, so, well, ruggedly gorgeous.
The only space at all comparable, at least that I've seen, is the beaches on the Frisian island Terschelling, which looks out toward the North Sea, the place my great-grandparents lived 150 years ago. In both places, when you stand at the far edge and look toward the seam of land and water, you can't help but realize that getting to the water requires some gumption. It's a long, long ways.
I used to love the Lake Michigan beaches close to home, but they are nothing like this, so I tried my best to take at least something of their ruggedness home with me, everything I could get into the camera, which happened to be my phone.
Rugged place, but, oh, so gorgeous, on a sunny day in mid-September.
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