11/20/2022 0 Comments Beach life photography![]() ![]() Perhaps I could be lucky.Īpparently, there were some in which it looked like it could be me. He instantly began browsing the pictures on his camera and showed me a few. I am just starting to learn how to take photos," the man replied. Do you think you could've taken a photo of me riding one or two waves? I would love to have a souvenir of this wonderful day," I asked the young man. So, when I reached the wet sand, intrigued, I decided to ask the photographer a question. In the last minutes of the session, I noticed someone was pointing a camera toward us, the surfers in the water. I was happy, and my soul had been uplifted. "What a glorious day," I said to myself.īut the best was yet to come - outside of the water.Īround 30 minutes later, I rode my last wave toward the beach. There was no wind, the waves were glassy, and the water's surface looked as shiny as silver.Īt 8:30 pm, there were a handful of surfers in the water, and the vibes were cool, relaxed, and welcoming.Īs I waited for the next set, I observed a giant orange ball of fire, getting ready to hide behind the skyline. It was late in the day, but the stars seemed aligned. Somewhere in the middle of the black-and-white footage, a group of 12 individuals is seen riding bellyboards.īecause the film was shot between 19, it was considered the oldest known surf film in Europe.Īnyway, nearly 100 years later, I was paddling out with the sun already low on the horizon. However, it was a 28-second excerpt that caught a local writer's attention. In 1927, the Portuguese Army's Cinematographic Service shot a 32-minute film featuring several aspects of the local economic, social and cultural life. Leça da Palmeira has an interesting role in the history of surfing. ![]() On June 20, at 8:30 pm, I paddled out at Leça da Palmeira beach, an urban stretch of sand on the outskirts of Porto, a stunning and cosmopolitan World Heritage Site by UNESCO. Nevertheless, three months after the beginning of the nightmare, I started planning strategic surf sessions in uncrowded surf breaks. I've played it conservatively - not because I was afraid - but because I thought it was the right and wise thing to do and the best way to protect my family. I've been one of those who decided to take no risks. In a self-analysis exercise, I tend to believe that the best of me was molded through surfing, the constant connection to the ocean, and the solitary act of waiting for the waves to appear on the horizon.īut that is of less importance to the reader right now.Įveryone who is blessed to be alive in a year like 2020 knows what a fresh breath of air means in times of isolation, lockdowns, confinement, and physical distancing. So, every year, on the third Saturday of June, I tell myself I need to get wet and pay tribute to a sport that pretty much shaped part of who I am today. ![]() The long, warm summers were certainly the perfect hook, but I learned to appreciate it all year-round as time passed by.Īs a surfer, in the last couple of decades, I've been trying to follow the ritual and paddle out on International Surfing Day. I have always felt attracted to the beach from a very young age. This is the true story of someone who understood how a simple gesture could mean a lot to a fellow beach lover.īeaches are sanctuaries of health, places where Nature heals us both physically and spiritually. For some people, kindness and generosity have no price tag attached. ![]()
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