After a few aborted attempts to get this shoot done (we had scheduled to do this three times before we actually did it) due to weather and other problems, I got a call from the helicopter pilot, who was on his way to the helicopter. He could pick me up at Montgomery Field in 15 minutes. I puled up, and they were already waiting for me. They had taken one of the doors off for me and were ready to go. I jumped in, and put the seat belt on, which looks just like the seat belt on any commercial jet I’ve ever been on. I thought there would be a little something more substantial to strap into, but was stoked that I would be able to move around without being limited by a bunch of straps and buckles. Right before we took off, the co-pilot pointed at the buckle on my seat belt and said, “Don’t mess with that when you lean out.” Good advice. I threw on the noise-canceling headphones, which pumped out reggae music the whole time I was in the air.

I had two cameras with me, a Canon 40D with a 17-40 and a Canon 30D with a 70-200. That lens combination worked really well. I also had spare batteries and cards, a fish eye, and an 85, but the flight went by so fast that I didn’t even think about changing lenses. I kept both camera straps around me and fired off about 800 frames in the twenty minutes we were in the air.

I had been told that helicopters vibrate a lot and are loud, but this one didn’t seem to be. The flight was very smooth and I was just rocking out to the music the whole time. I barely noticed the sound of the engine. I was surprised at how small the helicopter was inside. The backseat was only about the size of the back seat of a Honda. Even with the door off, it was calm inside of the cabin, but once the camera was stuck outside, I would have to hang on tight to keep the wind from ripping it out of my hands. Once we arrived at the Mission Bay Aquatic Center, we circled a bunch of times while I kept shooting different angles, both tight and wide. In the end, I was happy with what I got, but I could have done better with the long lens. I was keeping the shutter speed above 1/500 or so, which I thought would be fast enough. About 1/4 of the images from the 70-200 were soft due to camera shake, so next time I’ll keep that camera above 1/1500.

Keep your eye open for these images to show up. They’re already being used in the MBAC’s marketing and one will probably be published in the Beach and Bay Press. The next cover from the MBAC Class Schedule should be coming from this shoot as well.

On the first wave I rode, I fell and lost my board. The board rode the whitewash all the was to the sand, so I followed it in. Little did I know that there were rocks everywhere just below the surface between me and my board. I found myself lying on top of a pile of rough rocks when a wave came in and tumbled me around. As I was in the washing machine, by kite came unhooked from my harness and the harness loop caught on the end of my bar. The kite powered up and I got drug right over the top of the rocks. On top of this humiliation, a lifeguard waded out to me to yell at me that I wasn’t allowed to land at that beach. I got my board back, collected myself, and took off. I went back downwind and got out of the water to check out the damage, finding my body covered with scratches and bruises. My ankles, legs, knees, forearms, and a few fingers were all scratched. They were all minor scratches, and the biggest hit was to my ego.

I went back out, and played a little further out, near the kelp fields. I found one section that was about 30 feet wide and figured that it would be fun to jump. I hauled ass at the kelp, jumped, and came up about two feet short. The board came to a stop as soon as the fins hit the kelp, breaking a fin and fin plug.

After taking a break for a few minutes, I borrowed a twin tip and went back out. I went blasting around for about 30 minutes, and then heard and felt a loud pop while I was in the air on a jump. I crashed to the water, and realized that my harness broke. the webbing on one side had snapped. I rode back in to the beach, landed my kite, and decided I’d had enough.

There was still plenty of wind and the weather was very clear, so I grabbed my housing and swam out to get a few photos of Alexis. After swimming back in, I packed up my broken gear and jumped in the truck for the three hour ride home. Arriving exhausted and beat up, I told Robin about my day. While showing her the scratches on my hand, I realized that my wedding ring was gone. As if I hadn’t had a rough enough day already.

Catalina Island is only twenty miles from the crowds, noise, and clutter of the coast of Southern California, but it might as well be halfway across the Pacific. The boat ride only takes an hour, but once you are on one of the island’s secluded beaches, it’s very easy to forget that there are millions of people just across the horizon. We arrived in Avalon on a Friday morning the week after Labor Day. Since Labor Day marks the symbolic end of summer for most people, the island was about to experience it’s first quiet weekend of the summer.

Catalina Island is almost completely undeveloped. There are two small towns, Avalon and Two Harbors. Two Harbors should really be called a village, as there cannot be more than 100 full time residents there. Avalon, which is were most people go when they travel to Catalina, looks like it belongs in the Mediterranean. Avalon is the big city on the island, but during the winter, you would be hard pressed to find 500 people living there. Avalon’s claim to fame is the fact that most residents travel around town in golf carts. The rest of the island is almost completely undeveloped, except for the many camps that are tucked into the protected coves along the island’s south east side.

My friend Brian is the caretaker for a place located about a fifteen to twenty minute boat ride from Avalon. His job is seasonal, keeping him on Catalina from March through October. Because of the relative lack of tourists, we met many people who live and work on the island full time. These people are almost instantly recognizable as full-timers once they begin talking. Winters on Catalina can be lonely, and there are only a few people to talk to, especially in the more isolated parts of the island. They all refer to the rest of California as “the mainland” and speak really fast, jumping from subject to subject without pausing. I think this happens whenever a full-time island resident meets a new person, as the next new person to talk to might not be around for some time. The big story everyone was talking about was the quiet weekend everyone was expecting. All the locals couldn’t wait for the tourists to be gone so everything would slow down, but now had a lonely winter to look forward to.

At Brian’s camp, we had the beach almost completely to ourselves and spent the weekend hiking, kayaking, and driving around the interior of the island. Being able to drive on the island is a special treat, as non golf-cart vehicles are hard to come by. You actually have to have keys to get past gates blocking the access to the interior of the island, and we just happened to be with someone who had those keys. Robin and I saw the far side of the island for the first time. The far side is almost completely deserted except for a few campers and a few boats anchored in the little coves here and there. We also came across some of the famous Catalina Island Buffalo, who are descendants of Buffalo brought to the island in the 1920s for a movie production.

The weekend went by in a hurry, so Brian dropped us off to catch our ferry and two hours later we were at home in San Diego. Being able to travel from an isolated place to a large city is such a shorts amount of time is almost confusing. Every day, people line up at LAX to take there shoes and belts off to get on planes so they can sit on a beach somewhere and relax. All they need to do is take an hour boat ride from their own coast.