Sun and summer are synonymous. It’s not really summer without sun, and sun is just a giant light source when it’s not summer. In San Clemente and much of Southern California, this is not the case. After some miserable bike issues the day before (nothing like female issues, but still they seem to always happen at the “not right now” times in life), I spent my first day with my now really good friend Claire. San Clemente is a beach culture, so that’s where we headed. I have lived next to it my whole life, but I always feel the ocean is a stranger that I have to reintroduce myself to and listen to it for hours on end to get to know it again. It’s so eloquent and has endless stories that like the breeze and waves, have no start or end.
Claire was a hooper, so she hooped, one, two, three hoolas and I filmed. It would be the last bit of footage I would film on my way down the coast. My camera jammed with sand, grit and adventure took a much deserved break. We walked the white wooden pier. Seagulls yelled at from the skies above at the diners at the pier’s high falooten food establishment with the constant sun etching expressions of contentment on their faces. A random cute couple, arm in arm, stared out towards the twinkling dusk coastline. I asked to take their picture, I didn’t know them, but I think those are the best pictures anyways. People being themselves, happy in a moment on a pier, regardless of the scraggly bearded traveller snapping their evening bliss on digital memory sticks.