*Just a note about the food-when I first traveled here and they brought plantains to me, with my casado, which is a dinner, I thought this was a cow tongue. They are ugly, but they are good. Traveling is always an adventure.
*I miss Florida watermelon!
~Meet Boogie ~
This is our Nica Waves surf guide. I have never had the privilege to hire a surf escort. And I consider it my good luck to have met this guy / gentleman. Not only for his local surf knowledge, but he’s just fun to be around.
If you told him, I’m normally a quiet and somewhat introverted person-he would never believe you. I have talked and talked and talked. It’s been a good experience to be around someone who’s lived some of the places that I have and has a similar background.
Boogie lives the surf lifestyle. I know that implies many things to different people, but to me, it means he loves the ocean, the waves, and the people involved in surfing.
He spends his days devoted to Nica Wave’s surfers. 
Nice ride to the beach. It’s super deluxe. The air-conditioner works.
Bradley was engaged in a cultural conversation, with the local/Bahamian car park caretaker. This was something I had to get used to, a long time ago, in Costa Rica. But I learned to accept it. And, I know that he is an extreme asset. He helps to keep down any petty thievery on the beach.
As I listened to this man answer Bradley’s questions, I pictured him, in one of those orange work vests, that identify the guards in Costa Rican, packed parking lots. That would be tragic!
I am so impressed with how this area has changed. There’s more people, but it seems to be just enough. The same goes for accommodations in the area. With the exception of one crazy house, the idea of mansions to the sky, hasn’t happened here. Not yet.
It’s primitive and beautiful.
Bradley’s surfing.
And we’ll be home soon.
When I look back on my days, of traveling through Central America, with my coffee pot and boxes of raisin bran, I experience a deep feeling of gratitude, because those days are what led to this.
At my age, you start to see the end. Once you cross the 50 year line, your perspective shifts.
I look through the lens and I get a glimpse of the world through Bradley’s eyes.
He can’t see what I see.
He’s not suppose to.
I was wrong. When I posted this morning, I had no idea I would be kicked back in the airport, with time on my hands. These are the young adults that I am traveling with. We caught the train this morning, headed to Orlando and our flight. 
City of New Orleans was playing in my head.
The train depot resembled a border crossing.
In the airport we admired the Go Pro shop. Now we are all armed- with cameras. And they shoot people too! I’m scared!
I identified myself as the chaperone, when going through TSA. So, I guess that’s what I am ~ Chaperone/Surf Photographer ~ Auntibubba has nothing on Mamacheri.
I’ve wanted this salad w/crab cake, since the day I wrote the post, Man vs. Nature, about the dune restoration going on at Slider’s Restaurant, on Amelia Island.
Cason was playing. It is her birthday. She is a compelling performer, as well as surfer. She has a Southern, jazzy repertoire, that blends with the atmosphere. I can easily visualize her, singing her songs at the Grand Ole Opry, or having the lights shining down from above, capturing her stage persona, on the televised show Austin City Limits.
The sea oats, planted by George, the owner, are coming up nicely. I’m going to give him the benefit of the doubt, that he did this in the best interest of the dunes. Yes, it was shocking to me to see the machinery in the dunes, after all that I have been taught about the ecology. But new oats have been planted, and in conveying his story to me, he seemed sincere. He has no intention of adding more tables or putting in a pool. Time will tell. 
In the mean time, I want to enjoy this place that has become such a popular source of entertainment. They certainly have good food and a positive vibe.
Tomorrow, I’m leaving the corner, that has become my world: our world. I’m going to Nicaragua to photograph my friends surfing.
We’ll land in Managua, and then drive to the beach.
As I sat in the middle of this decadence, I allowed myself to enjoy it. Even though, in the back of my mind, the poverty that I will soon encounter, loomed.
*I am locking her down now. The next time I write, I will be in a new neighborhood. I’ll be on someone else’s corner, in their world: our world.
I recently had the opportunity to work with Chris Igou, Nick Isabella, Bradley Dunham, Skyler DeBerry and Jarrod Kaylor. Secondhand Surf Photography sold packages to the surf camp kids. Chris Igou was the leader and he did a great job. We all put so much energy into those kids. To see kids catching their first wave, skim boarding and body surfing; it was a rewarding experience.
It wasn’t like this in 1966 ~ I can remember dragging my forty pound Rick Noserider to the beach and getting slam dunked repeatedly. Trying to catch a wave. Pearling. The board would spin and knock me upside my head. But I always had to act like, yeah, “I’m OK”-“I’m OK”. Not that anyone was even looking. There was hardly anyone on the beach back in those days. My skim board was as tall as I was. I would repeatedly kick and ride all the way to the pier, then turn around and come back. Day after day.
This is Bradley.
This is Jarrod surfing on a boogie board. Wow, what a great day that was.
This is Skyler kicking up a little spray on a small wave day.And Waterman~Nick Isabella
Recently Chris posted this to his Facebook Page
July1, 2013
7 days until my first trip to Nicaragua and I couldn’t be more excited and anxious! I have been doing summer surf camp with pipeline surf shop for the past 7 weeks and have one week left.
It has been so amazing teaching kids how to surf and to see how much joy they get out of it. That’s it. That is what it’s all about. The moment of joy that comes every so often. The feeling that gives you the highest level of pure and honest joy! People often forget about that as they get older by letting little bad moments pile up which over shadow the good! My goal is to push myself as I get older to never let go of those moments and always live for the ones to come that lighten up your spirit. I am 21 right now and if I had one piece of advice to give it would be to not let those moments of joy pass so easily and do so by taking them in and enjoy every second of it!
Now it’s 3 days away, and with the exception of Nick, we’re all headed to Nicaragua. I am excited. I am going to be able to hone my photography skills and do some videography. I’ve trekked through the beaches of Central America for twenty years and all of my photos have been done with a Polaroid, held together by rubber bands, or my old Kodak that died after fifteen years of hard labor, or my Canon point and shoot that bit the dust after dropping it too many times. I am well on the backside of fifty and feel exactly like Chris described. Surfing captured my heart from the very beginning.
They are going to be throwing so much spray! I can’t wait!
I live in a cute house, on a pretty island.
I just keep going from day-to-day, doing the right thing, taking bad pictures, throwing away hundreds and losing thousands.
I lost my photo library the other day.
I told myself, don’t panic. It’s just another tech hoop to jump through.
It’s spring and this is the time, every year, that I start dreaming, even more than usual. I see myself in exotic places. I hear myself saying things like, I know I can go around the world, on very little money, and have a great time!
My imagination becomes fueled, by the scenery projected through television and movies. There’s so many places to see and so little time.
My mind replays days of crossing the Sierras and passing through miles of uninhabited beaches along the Pan American Highway. I’ll never forget the daunting look of the Chiapas, the cobblestone streets of Antigua.
Yesterday, I read in Surf Travel magazine, that few people have the guts, (they used other anatomical parts) to do a road trip. And I agree with them. But I’m not one of those people. I’ve always loved to go. It makes me feel alive. I’ve never been in touch with what makes someone do the same thing, over and over, every day. It has little appeal to me.
The picture above is of our local marina. It’s not a great pic, but you get the point. In the back, on the left you will see the ever-burning smoke stacks of a paper mill. It roars like a dragon. If you were to turn north, from that vantage point, your view would be marred by yet, another mill, spitting and firing.
So, I call all elves and dwarves.
As I sit by the fire of my humble abode, I know, it’s only a matter of time.
I will trade the comfort of my afternoon tea, for the precarious experiences of the trail .
“How we live seems more crucial than why.”
I’m home again. I’ve returned from a four-day, road trip; first to San Jose, the capital of Costa Rica and then Parrita, a small coastal town, south of Jaco. I allow myself to sink, in the comfort of my little house again; back to my coffee pot, air conditioner and Big Bang.
The trip to town was brought about, by my need to see the dermatologist. I got a good report from the Doc. That was a relief. Then we were out and about town, visiting friends and mostly traveling in cabs. We did take the bus line one time. Traffic is so anti-systematic here. Cars dive for space; seemingly each driver is anticipating the other’s move, and it’s on! I’d much rather sit back and let a cab drive wreck his car, than take a chance on our rental. Continue reading Home Again
It is a good morning. It’s ten til four. I keep waking up, so I decided to rise and write. The reason for my restlessness is a trip I’m taking. I’m going to San Jose, the capital of Costa Rica. It’s where one has to go for anything important. In my case, the doctor.
On a bike ride, a while back, water splashed on my leg, and I suspect a parasite has now taken residence under my skin. Yuk! You never know what’s going to happen here in the wild. So, off to civilization.
It’s a four-hour drive, that can be maddening. We, my husband and myself, will be crossing narrow, winding, mountain roads, behind big trucks, aging, loud tractor trailers, smoking trucks, old farm vehicles on their last leg and slow-moving cars. All the while, dodging occasional cows and meandering pedestrians. Not to mention, simultaneously being passed, by insane little cars that don’t slow down for anything. Double yellow lines are meaningless to them, as well as oncoming traffic. They don’t put this in the travel brochures.
I am carrying my board, as I am going to take this opportunity for a surf trip down south. I’ll have my camera in tow.
During this hiatus from photos on my blog, I have taken a lot of pictures.
Some are good, some aren’t.
My camera is far smarter than I am, but I would like to be more in control. I am very inspired by other photographers.
I wish I had a witty story to tell this morning, but hey, it’s four o’clock.
And all is well.
Note to self – Don’t sweat the small stuff. It’s all small stuff.
This picture was taken about 1996, under the tree in front of Lola’s, (Playa Avellanas, Costa Rica) when Lola’s was still called Freddie’s. I didn’t know at that time, that I was going to sell my home, in Fernandina Bch, Florida, and leave the United States.
It’s been a good journey, so far. i just wanted to remind myself to keep it simple, one day at a time and everything’s gonna be alright!
I took this picture in Cabo San Lucas, Mexico a few years back. I thought this little boy was absolutely beautiful. He had a sweet aura ~ for all I know he could be the devil’s child ~
We look at people and we never really know.
I had gotten on the bus, with the locals, that worked at the hotel. We rode to the top of the hill, outside the gates of whatever resort it was, I was staying at. The higher the bus climbed, the more bleak and less color there was. I didn’t get a picture, but I remember the brilliance of a rooster, against the grey nothingness that were the hovels, these people call home.
I also remember how, when we got to the top of the hill, I was the only person left on the bus. I felt a tinge of panic. I knew I was in a place that few gringos venture. I told myself to relax. I was there ~ what could I do.
It is my practice, to walk in faith, not fear.
God tells us in scripture that he did not give us fear.
Picture a world where there is no “fear of people”.
It looks like heaven to me.
Fish Eye Farm 