santiago
Come here during the day and this area is awash with visitors, a plethora of selfie sticks and smiling faces- if you’re under 20 and want a picture of yourself with giant bunny ears and whiskers to post on social media against an iconic Californian backdrop, then this is definitely the location for you.But if you come here at either end of the day when the beach is practically deserted and the bridge lights are on, there is a completely different feel about it. And the few people that are still around are generally way more interesting.
It was here I met Santiago, sitting propped up in an old canvas chair, two wooden stakes driven into the sand on either side of him like markers of his own tiny kingdom. His grey beard was lit by the glow of a small camp fire and two dogs, each no larger than one of my cats were curled up by his feet. A pair of battered brown shoes sat near him along with a plastic carrier of sorts and a thin line of smoke curled from the fingers of his left hand as he looked out over the water. At first, I was slightly wary- I’d just taken a series of images including this one and was moving further along the shoreline to try a different angle, which meant that I passed close by him. His dogs stirred lazily at the sound of my feet and as I came within a few metres, I got to see him slightly better- he was maybe in his 60s with a deeply lined face and a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes. Framed by the bridge and lit by the embers of his fire, he presented an incredible sight and so I set up to shoot with him in the foreground. Some of you have seen these images but I haven’t posted them here yet. After a few frames, I approached him and showed him the pictures, offering to delete them if he wasn’t comfortable. Turning his head, he motioned for me to sit on the sand in the half light and drawing on his cigarette asked my name.
There are moments in life which stay with you for a long time. For an hour we talked, sat in the shadow of the Golden Gate Bridge by his camp fire. He told me that he had retired from his business which he’d built up over the course of a lifetime and was spending a year travelling - sleeping on beaches until he was moved on. He explained that he’d had a good life – lucky in many ways- but had always yearned for freedom and adventure, things that running a business and supporting his family had not allowed. This was his time, he said.
And so, this image is for Santiago, wherever he is now. For an unexpected friendship and for his parting words as I left
“Bridges. You can never be sure whether to cross them again or burn them”
He will only access his email again in the Spring and if he allows, I’ll post his image here.
santiago
Come here during the day and this area is awash with visitors, a plethora of selfie sticks and smiling faces- if you’re under 20 and want a picture of yourself with giant bunny ears and whiskers to post on social media against an iconic Californian backdrop, then this is definitely the location for you.But if you come here at either end of the day when the beach is practically deserted and the bridge lights are on, there is a completely different feel about it. And the few people that are still around are generally way more interesting.
It was here I met Santiago, sitting propped up in an old canvas chair, two wooden stakes driven into the sand on either side of him like markers of his own tiny kingdom. His grey beard was lit by the glow of a small camp fire and two dogs, each no larger than one of my cats were curled up by his feet. A pair of battered brown shoes sat near him along with a plastic carrier of sorts and a thin line of smoke curled from the fingers of his left hand as he looked out over the water. At first, I was slightly wary- I’d just taken a series of images including this one and was moving further along the shoreline to try a different angle, which meant that I passed close by him. His dogs stirred lazily at the sound of my feet and as I came within a few metres, I got to see him slightly better- he was maybe in his 60s with a deeply lined face and a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes. Framed by the bridge and lit by the embers of his fire, he presented an incredible sight and so I set up to shoot with him in the foreground. Some of you have seen these images but I haven’t posted them here yet. After a few frames, I approached him and showed him the pictures, offering to delete them if he wasn’t comfortable. Turning his head, he motioned for me to sit on the sand in the half light and drawing on his cigarette asked my name.
There are moments in life which stay with you for a long time. For an hour we talked, sat in the shadow of the Golden Gate Bridge by his camp fire. He told me that he had retired from his business which he’d built up over the course of a lifetime and was spending a year travelling - sleeping on beaches until he was moved on. He explained that he’d had a good life – lucky in many ways- but had always yearned for freedom and adventure, things that running a business and supporting his family had not allowed. This was his time, he said.
And so, this image is for Santiago, wherever he is now. For an unexpected friendship and for his parting words as I left
“Bridges. You can never be sure whether to cross them again or burn them”
He will only access his email again in the Spring and if he allows, I’ll post his image here.