making tracks

I had a funny experience yesterday on Second/Sachuest Beach ...

I set out from Surfers' End, from whence stemmeth (don't ask me where that came from) assorted tracks. I was more-or-less following the only other walker on the beach, the relative solitariness of the situation being not-so-unusual and not-so-unwelcome in January. Anyway, about half or maybe two thirds of the way toward the rocky refuge at the far end, I saw something. Something black. A lens — a long one — protruding from the dunes. And when the photographer removed lens from eye, I realized I knew him. Sort of. I knew his work, to be precise, so I called out, "I know you! You're Jim!"

Perhaps the solitariness of the situation was emboldening.

Then I went on to say (no idea what got into me), "I'm Newport Betty." This photographer and I are friends of the Facebook variety, so I thought he might recognize the name. Or not. But he seemed to. Or he pretended to ...

Anyway (again), after chatting for no more than a minute, during which we compared the impressiveness of his lens to the lack of impressiveness of mine, I went on my way.

OK, so that's not funny. But an hour or so later, when I was home from my walk, upon which I spied nothing earth-shattering but several things I hadn't expected (what's better than that?), I logged onto Facebook and was just scrolling down through the occasionally-enlightening but generally-redundant news when, wait, I saw something familiar. It was .... me!

The aforementioned photographer – we were both eyeing birds at the edge the surf — had caught me from behind, unaware, and figured he'd post it.

As if I were a bird or something.

Ha ...

That one (right there ^) was taken by James Clayton Sattel, the long-lensed photographer on the beach. Many more of his photos can be found by CLICKING HERE. Or you could "friend" him on Facebook, like I did.

You could even "friend" me, for that matter ...