SEA and SKY...

"I, the Lord of sea and sky..."- Daniel L. Schutte

"The sea is everything....an immense desert....where life stirs on all sides.."- Jules Verne

"I , who made the stars of night...." - Daniel L. Schutte

"The sky is the ultimate art gallery just above us..."

                                                                                                                                    -Emerson

"I will make their darkness bright..."- Daniel L. Schutte

"The world's finest wilderness lies beneath the waves..." 

-Robert Wyland

"I, the Lord of snow and rain...."- Daniel L. Schutte

"Only from the heart can you touch the sky..." -Rumi

"Green calm below, blue quietness above..." -John Greenleaf Whittier

"I have wept for love of them...."- Daniel L. Schutte

"My soul is longing for the secret of the sea..." -Longfellow

"All I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by..."

-John Masefield

"I, the Lord of wind and flame..."- Daniel L. Schutte

     "The sky dreams of stars,,," - Mihai Eminescu

'To me the sea is a continual miracle; The fishes that swim - the rocks - the motion of the waves - the ships, with men in them, what stranger miracles are there?" -Walt Whitman

              "A sky full of silent suns..." -Jean Paul

"Meet me where the sky touches the sea. Wait for me where the world begins..."- Jennifer Donnelly

quote excerpts by Daniel L. Schutte (1947-) from "I, the Lord of Sea and Sky"

Photographs 2025 Campbell River, B.C. Canada

 

LET'S GO SURFIN' NOW.....

"The best surfer out there is the one having the most fun.." -Phil Edwards

When I was a student living  in California, it seemed like all we did was find an excuse to visit the beach.  Any sort of beach. So every so often, in  the latter half of the 80’s ,we packed into  one car, the five of us, a pink beach umbrellas, food and a map. To find  sand and surf and surfers. 

Crater Lake 1985

In 1985 we decided to go outside California. We’d heard about that elusive “Old Man” in Oregon, at Crater Lake. We wondered wo WAS the old man?We drove  straight there, arriving at dawn, running over a  few rabbits in the dark. ( Nothing worse than the squelch of road kill. )Crater Lake dawned cold that August, I remember. We hadn’t slept all night.  We asked about the “Old Man”. Much to our surprise ,we discovered it was a weathered log bobbing about in the water of the Crater since 1894. BORRRRING.. So back we zoomed to California. I think we hit  something soft  along the way.  Yuck.

San Clemente 1987

Our next journey was closer to home; San Clemente,  Orange County. A train puttered back and forth along the sand. It was hot and sticky. No surf that day; no surfers. Beach goers  hovered on the sand. “Shark” I heard.  

Beach was instantly closed. Older ladies in frilly bathing suits and flowered caps shrieked and carried on. I just wanted to see the shark. No shark.

Corona Del Mar 1987

   Corona del Mar we visited in late Sept 1987.  The "Beautiful people"  sauntered up and down the pale sands.    Kind of place you see on those rich and famous shows.  On the way there we ran over a seagull. Squish. Made a mess of the front tire.  

All those elegant bathers. No surfers. No anything but sand.

Aboretum Pond

The Los Angeles Arboretum as next on our list.  Not exactly a beach, but we hadn't been there before.

Fantasy Island , Arboretum

Pretty cool seeing the  Fantasy Island house. Peacocks yelped like angry puppies, chasing us up and down the pathways. 

I think I saw Tarzan swinging from the palm trees..........

Carmel By the Sea , 1985

In 1985 we trundled along to Carmel By the Sea.. Doris Day had come to live there in 1981, so we got it into our heads to try and find her house. Wouldn't it be cool to get her autograph? We even drove up to the front door buzzer . 

We’d heard that if you rang the bell you could speak to her, if she was home. 

We rang the bell, and then chickened out. High tailed it  to the beach as fast as we could. 

We dragged that beach umbrella to the far end and huddled under it to get some shade. Except for our feet. By nightfall, when we got home, we all had swollen burnt feet. For a week my ankles resembled pink balloons. 

Santa Monica

Then there was Santa Monica. We ended up lost and out of gas.  And there were a couple of wasps in the car  that refused to leave. Tormented us to no end. We finally squished them into  the air vent.By that time we were towed to a gas station. We had to pool our money to get gas.

When we got to Santa Monica beach we forgot the umbrella, but we DID manage to get into the ocean. Until we heard the lifeguard yelling “Shark” “Run”. We didn’t look to see where the shark was. We just stumbled  onto the beach with everyone else. At the last minute, I saw a dark shape near the  shore. The Lifeguard  yelled “Shark”. The shadow disappeared.  So did we.

San Juan Capistrano, 1950's

One of the last places I wanted to see was San Juan Capistrano.Mostly because my parents had been there in the 50’s. My mother said the pigeons would swarm over you, if you stood very still.

1989

I never saw the pigeons. I did see  the swallows dive and swoop over the ocean. And there were finally surfers.  Riding the huge waves. We  celebrated by jumping into the sea, after checking for sharks.Then we sat on the sand and didn’t say anything for the longest time. It was a perfect day.Wet sand wriggled between our toes. 

We smelled like wet dog all the way home……but the Beach Boys were playing on the radio, and we sang along, laughing till we could laugh no more.

Photographs 2022
 

THE CABIN

"I was happy anywhere I could see the ocean..."

                           -Ai Yazawa

The cabin had stood for many years,like an old friend,  before  I  let it  go. Waiting  in the  seasons that pounded it with salt and spray. Scrub brush grew up between its toes, like seaweed snakes. The grass, never mowed, had seen many  footprints  wind their way to the grey , rocky shore.

Pebbly surf rattled and gurgled like  zombies trying to swim. Water was fresh and clear like some forgotten mountain pool. One fall the cabin  saw a grey whale  slide into the deep bays, searching for food, blowing spray.  Flapping and slapping the  still water. The cabin saw all of this and more. The whale, swam close to shore. Then swam away into the  deep.

 My father loved this cabin. He built it with  the help of friends, who drove down from way up island. They only asked for a place to pitch their tents. My mother fried up steaks on  the Coleman stoves with buttered potatoes and homemade bread  she had baked at home and brought with us. She  made walnut slice, chocolate cake and strawberries.

I liked to  stand on our favourite lookout, safe and strong, to watch  the skies change. 

Gordon beach was long and narrow. So many rocks and logs; places to  climb.   Hidden away alcoves. Only the sound of the water lap lapping.
At night, mist rolled in  as fog folded into the forest behind. It felt like I was in a fairy tale of seaweed creatures.

Each day, the hammers of the workmen  sounded long and loud, until light was gone. “Like being on Gilligan’s Island”, they would laugh,  stretching out to eat and listen for the night.  

My mother’s favourite thing was to climb up onto the hollow log which lived on the beach. It was a place for make believe. A place for  sea monsters to dwell. And those sea zombies I envisioned, had to have a place to live.

Many years later , the hollow log disappeared….. I missed it. That great beast  had reigned for years as king of the shore. The stuff of legends. 

I wondered how the sea zombies felt about that….

The cabin saw logs laid down for  its feet, and wood for its shoulders and head. I liked to  stand inside the hollow log, watching them build . I felt the shuffle of  rocks underneath, imagining  sea zombies were coming to get me. If  you sang inside the hollow log, you could summon the zombies with a special song.

When the tide was low, shallow wading pools appeared. My father could then  swing me over the shoreline. I’d scream. He’d catch me before I touched the water.

The end of day, everything turned to rose and gold. My mother and father sat on the half finished deck, as night fell and the ocean blazed pink. They were ever so quiet those times.

When  the cabin was almost finished,  the workmen decided to put in an extra large window in front.  Storms were  coming. Then  my father sat inside to see how big the ocean swelled. In a few weeks, the workmen packed up and went home. Leaving us, to the wind and tide.

Sometimes,  on those  last few years, my father would tell me ghostly sea stories, with zombies and kings and brave knights. My mother  would say she could feel the cabin floating.

We were safe inside with the fire burning in the old wood stove; hot tea in mismatched mugs, on the table. 

In the few years that were left, the cabin was glad to see us. There were stories, and walks on the beach. Special secret missions , looking for those zombies who had  kidnapped seaweed mermaids.The cabin watched over us. Until one day, my father could not go  any longer. When my mother and I would go those years after, I would play in the hollow log and see the cabin, with its big  eyes.

It spoke silently to me. And in the hush, I always felt my father there, and in years to come,  my mother, drifting along the shore. Together, hand in hand, in a place they loved so much……

 "Ocean separates lands, not souls..." -Munia Khan

Photographs 2022