We all have our own journey to find waves. Most of us have been bitten by the ocean’s reef-sharpened teeth but we’re all driven by a hunger for waves, whether they’re beasts from the depths of dark storms or mellow, long lines brought by light tradewinds.
Once a surfer tastes the salt of ocean, they are forever cursed with a lifetime of searching for more. Almost like an addict, straining and struggling through finding our next hit. This is my search. At 23, I ventured out with my board, my camera, and my bag, to find behemoths lingering on the outskirts of Hawaii’s reefs, the lonely lines on the coast of Chile and Argentina, and I hope to end my journey in the cliffs of Ireland.
My second day in Hawaii provided all the proof I needed to understand why this is still the center of the surfing world. Captured in movement, to remind us that the motion of the ocean cannot be understood in one single moment.
