Akiva, throwing logs to the sea,

finds a bigger log from the base of the bluffs

and rolls it to the water

and paddles in the bay.

Log in the water!

Iris joins him,

& they bounce across the bay.

Later, when they return to land,

I tell them the log is to slow erosion, so please put it back by the bluffs.

They move like sea turtles up the sand,

footprints like turtle crawls, pushing their log-boat to its nest beyond the waves.

Here the photos stop.

Pushing a log on wet sand is not too hard.

Pushing a log a up a hill of forgiving sand

requires the force of a photographer.

I.

Early in the morning, Akiva plays toss-the-disk—

and Iris reads and reads as the tide recedes and recedes—

—and recedes.

II.

Middle of the day.

Every year, we hike closer closer and closer to the Abri Trois Murs des Cèdres.

We reached it for the first time! It is not an easy hike.

It is all up and down and up and down and hot, with not enough water.

Not enough water is a problem.

There is water at the shelter if you have a filter. I did not know that. I did not bring a filter.

When we finally arrived at the shelter, I asked the kids to pose for the camera and look happy.

They did the best they could.

This is the sign that tells us how far we have to go to get back to where we came from.

III.

Evening, Martin plays toss the disk.

Akiva works on flamboyant catches.

Iris writes & writes.

I can’t decide which picture I like.

She writes—

She smiles!

She writes.

IV.

Before the sun sets, I force the two together into a smile.

No, I mean a smile.

I say, “Pretend you adore each other.”

Iris thinks that pretending to adore her younger brother is a hilarious idea.

Their expressions haven’t changed significantly over the past six years:
https://barefootfool.com/goofballs-lile-du-marais/

V.

& in the end, the sun does set.

Martin boils water for dishes at the campsite and washes in the little shelter,

where there is a sink to let out dirty water and a faucet to let in brownish, brackish water.

It is dark out. The lights are on. Martin & Akiva play a game of checkers before bed.

I.

Akiva plays with fire.

II.

Martin returns with clean dishes.

III.

Iris in blue.

IV.

Martin in firelight.

V.

Family portraits without me.

1

Iris writes.

2

Martin and Akiva play ball.

3

Iris and Akiva trace shadows.

4

Akiva and Iris make footprints.

5

Martin reads.

6

Akiva and Iris find a pallet; I add logs.

We build a craft.

They set off!

Iris is up—

and down.

Iris and Akiva push off—

into the sunset.

Perhaps some year we will hike all the way there.

1

Witness the strange optical illusion of inverted footprints on sand.

2

Cars are an important part of any camping trip.

The orange Toyota 4×4 (right) is a favorite. Most parts of it return every year.

It is one of Martin’s jobs to play with cars on rocks.

Playing with cars on rocks is always done early in the morning.

3

Iris takes a photo of me cooking.

4

I take a family portrait.

5

While the tide is out, the kids go climbing on an otherwise inaccessible rock.

Akiva has an easy time going up. Iris has less confidence in her grip.

Akiva demonstrates that, in addition to jumping, he can climb down the way he went up.

Iris is open to jumping— if she can get close enough to the ground first.

Two people up on top.

6

Iris takes a photo of me resting.

7

Contrary to typical engineering practices, the best sand-home engineers always build where the next high tide will cause great devastation.

Historic photos of the Toyota 4×4.

Canal building commenced around seven in the morning.

The purpose of the canal was the creation of an island.

Digging of the pool began past eight. Akiva dug, Martin brought the reinforcement material.

Iris documented the days activities in her journal.

She drew and wrote in the morning light on a driftwood log by the bay.

After allowing them to admire it a bit, the rising tide lent its creative hand to Martin & Akiva’s stone ringed pool.

Back at camp, there was a chess tournament.

It is very difficult to get an action shot in chess.

I have never seen one.

This is our kitchen tent. We have our own spot on the bay with our own entrance, to the water.

It is just a bit over two kilometers from where the nearest car can drive.

There are no idling RVs, no cars driving, no speakers playing, no people walking by (usually), and there is no cell reception.

Ten Years, Four Months, Eleven Days

Seven Years, Two Months, Twenty-Four Days

Unknown Age

While Akiva busied himself building canals,

Iris amassed a small krill collection.

 *   *   * 

Back when I was learning to work in the dark room, we were encouraged to study Ansel Adams. I pondered some photos and I read some of his words about technique. I was particularly impressed with his equipment and darkroom setup— or lack thereof. I understood the importance of his work from a historical and from a conservation standpoint, but I had trouble “reading” landscapes in black & white.

What I remember most of all of it was his portrait of a man’s face. After discussing his photo he wrote, “I think this portrait would have been better in color.” That was remarkable to me, as I have generally preferred portraits in black & white and landscapes in color, and I was under the impression that Adams did everything in B&W. I hadn’t even known that color film existed during his lifetime.

I wonder what it was about the face that he thought would have been better in color. He didn’t explain. The only thing I can think that displeased him was the difference in drama between a mountain and a face. Mountains are dramatic in a way that allowed him to capture them in stark blacks and whites, expertly balancing the tones across the page. A face has more muted peaks and valleys, lending itself to the ambivalence of grey. Perhaps Adams was less sure of himself due to this lack of starkness. While most of us need color to comprehend the landscape, perhaps landscape is what Adams saw most clearly in any light. Perhaps Adams needed color to help him comprehend the human face.