On the same trip where Dunes with Doug was created, this misty image of the Oregon coast came to be.

    I'd seen a few long exposure images created by Wynn Bullock where waves, over time, created a feel of another world. I had always wanted to recreate that feeling but never saw anything that would allow me to try until this stormy day.

    My son, Doug, and I were returning from a visit to Florence. We were trying to get back to a KOA campground in Lincoln when I spotted these rocks ringing an inlet. A small stream joined the ocean at the same spot. Waves were breaking up to six feet high on the rocks.

    I told Doug, who was six, to stay put in the Blazer. I would be right back. I crawled across rocks to reach the stream, which was roaring from runoff. I vaulted across the stream using my fully-extended tripod.

    I realized that over a long exposure - I think mine were for about a minute - the breaking waves would create a haze over the ocean. For the life of me I can't understand how that little pool of water managed to stay looking so calm. It was constantly being bombarded by waves.

    I got off a few plates then headed back. When I got to the stream I was met with a very wet and upset boy. He then watched in horror as I attempted to vault back across the stream.

    This time my luck ran out. Weighted down by my back pack containing camera and lens, I lurched halfway across the stream then went sideways. I landed smack dab in six feet of fast flowing water.

    My son reached out and, though he was small, helped pull me onto the rocks. I spent a shivering ride to the campground before I could get into some dry clothes. Doug laughed all the way, wondering aloud why his dad would risk getting drowned for a silly picture.

    That night I spent more time drying off my camera and lenses. Luckily, none of the film holders got wet since I keep each of them in a ziplock baggie.

    I've never considered this one of my greatest images. Since there's not a heck of lot of water where I live, let alone anything resembling the waves I fought that day, I doubt I will get a second chance soon to get a better picture. But I did get the ghost-like feel I had always wanted in a print.

    You have to take a lot of bad pictures before you get a great picture. Which reminds me of something Diane Arbus once said:

    "Some pictures are tentative forays without your even knowing it. They become methods. It's important to take bad pictures. It's the bad ones that have to do with what you've never done before. They can make you recognize something you hadn't seen in a way that will make you recognize it when you see it again."