I shot this for a local magazine -- Marin Magazine -- and wrote the below copy to go with it. Here are some other pictures and story-ettes from the same series.
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Surfin’ Marin
Let's go surfin' now, Everybody's learning how, Come on and safari with me.
-- “Surfin’ Safari,” Beach Boys, 1962
Close your eyes. If you’re old enough (or imaginative enough), let Brian Wilson’s surf rock lyrics roll through your head. What do you see? Palm trees, right? White beaches, blond heads, blue waters, golden bodies, right? It’s a Southern California surfer’s dream.
Marin doesn’t enter the picture. But it should. Take away the palms, the sun tans and the balmy water; replace them with fog, wetsuits and an Alaskan current that is often just a few degrees warmer than the air temperature, and you’ve got surfing in Marin.
On any given day the waters off the Marin coast are dotted with surfers. Stinson Beach. Dillon Beach. Point Reyes. Fort Cronkhite. From the distance, they seem to bob in the Pacific like neoprene wrapped driftwood, their direction a matter of chance. Up closer, though, you can see their strength as they paddle out against wave and current. You can feel the surge of the sea, powered by stiff westerly winds that blow fans of spray off cresting waves. And, if you’re young enough (or imaginative enough), you can share the surfer’s thrill as he launches himself landward, a fleeting dart on a momentary curl of foam. At the ride’s end, what might you see? A ship, bound for the north from San Francisco Bay, carrying thousands of cruisers past a single surfer at Fort Cronkhite beach.