Matt Feldman Photography
Late afternoon rocks by the church and the main beach promenade.
The Coves of La Jolla on a cloudy summer day.
Death was imminent. I was sure of it. It was so humid that the word “air” could be used only sparingly. And it was so hot that there may as well have been an onion on my head and a tomato in my mouth: I was being roasted alive. The thermometer pegged the temperature at 72oC (162oF).
Run to the ocean, run to the sea.” Or, in my case, run straight back into a major snowstorm whose howling winds scream “Welcome back, sucker!” The yin and yang of travel continued to the end. The bitter, cold, snowy, icy, sucky end.
Quiet surf against the flat rocks of Georgian Bay.