Nowhere To Be Found

Pictures and stories from the Lost Coast, Ca.

About to descend the steep golden hills back to the coast.

Ditch the boots.

The four boys ditch their boots and opted for the smooth cool sand underfoot. On the day of their arrival they had walked blindly, unknown to the subtleties of sand granularity and loosely packed pebbles, they pushed forward in that sinking terrain. Each step, fortified their minds into a deeper harmony with their new environment. The threshold of mind and spirit began to blur, to recede and rise, to wash each other clean.

Some local textures and characters include dark pebbles and colorful starfish.

Pelicans and other birds enjoying the sanctuary known as the Lost Coast.

The first night there, it was the night of the blue-moon, and the clouds broke open just after midnight to reveal the coast. We had arrived.

Salty Air.

To be wiser by salty air and rising tides is a mysterious relationship. Every crashing wave called the boys closer to a whispering truth that only the coastal creatures understood intrinsically. The foreign nature that grasped tightly to their heels could no longer hold them back and was washed to sea. A new lightness carried their hungry curiosity over rugged terrain.

A long exposure image of our last night in the lost coast. The moon shines bright upon the incoming tide. Scorpio stretches across the western horizon.

Craving treasure.

Their craving for treasure was sifted by the exalted bounty of the earth and nothing more. When life ebbs to an organic rhythm like lapping waves, you accept that you are nowhere to be found and nowhere to be lost, but exactly where you were suppose to be the whole time.

Sipping on maté, Dustin soaks up the warm morning light.

Two birds bid farewell to being Lost.

Sometimes, it takes getting lost in order to be found. – The Lost Coast, Ca.


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