At the beach, the constant is change:

change of tides, winds, seasons, the shifting of sand or the passing of visiting birds, seals, or dolphins. Variations in cloud-cover re-tint the ocean's surface from blue to green or gray. Abundant plankton in the water can make curling waves glow an electric ice blue after dark. Storms reshape the face of the beach, building up great sand banks or digging them away to expose piles of underlying boulders. The full moon and the new moon bring extremes of high and low tides that swallow landmarks or reveal the abundant sea life that usually lies hidden below the surface. Even the waves themselves vary: now a set of larger, more energetic swells, now a smaller set or perhaps a pause, as if the sea's breath has caught momentarily.

Each image you take in at the beach is anchored in time as well as three-dimensional space. Hold on to the ones that speak to you. In a moment or an hour, the scene around you will have shifted, like the changing view in a constantly-turning kaleidoscope.

Beach panorama at sunset, with Mugu
Rock in the distance

Bridge over Highway 1 (the PCH to
locals) at the beach's west end

A gull steps into foam in late afternoon. I
particularly liked the gold tone in the water here.

High tide at the cove (east) end of the beach with a
segment of the volcanic outcroppings showing at left.

The sea side of usually-submerged landmark rock at low tide. The dark 'covering' is a mainly a mussel colony, with a scattering of other shellfish and anemones.

The knob on the top of the rock at left is often submerged in extremely high tides. In this view, the knob's top is about seven feet from the sand's surface.