Sunrise from Pebble Beach, Marquette, MI

Sunrise No. 232 of 1,600+

  • Sunrise time: 6:54
  • Azimuth: 71°
  • Did the sun rise: Yes
  • Was the sun visible: Yes


  • Felt like: 65 ºF
  • Air Temp: 65 ºF
  • Humidity: 66%
  • Wind gust: 1 mph


  • 26mm
  • f/22.0
  • 1/6 sec
  • 50


Pebble Beach, Marquette, MI

1.2 mile commute

📍 46° 33' 41" N, -87° 23' 18" W

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Musings [898 words]

You’re the agate we’ve all been looking for.

The sun did rise again.

Or at least it’s about to. Probably in about thirteen minutes.

I went easy this morning. I have gone easy a lot lately. But last night I hardly slept. Literally a couple hours of sleep.

Gosh darn it… there’s a single mosquito that has found me and is pestering me heavily.

Anyway I’m at pebble beach, north of Picnic Rocks and the water is calm, gentle lapping waves.

The sky is big and open. Not a cloud in sight. A slight haze along the horizon where it fades from dark unsaturated purple to orange to yellow to nearly white to light blue to multiple shades of darker blue.

It’s a sunrise I’ve seen a dozen times this year. There is nothing particularly unique about it. I rather like it. It’s simple, yet has so much beauty and color to it.

I wish I had a better seat here. A bench. A good log. Or a rock where I would move around until I found the spot that was most ergonomic for my bottom. Instead, I’m sitting on a bed of pebbles. Which does form nicely to my bottom.

When I arrived here there were a group of female runners several yards down the beach. I think they ran off when the creepy photographer man came from behind the trees with his big camera. Whoops.

Oh there it is, the first circular glow of the sun. A soft pink orange haze is now forming, breaking the dark purple ribbon across the horizon.

Oh yeah… one more reason I chose this spot — there is nothing on the horizon. No breakwall. No rocks. No buoys. Just Mother Superior and sky.

However, there is a boat zipping across the water, right along the horizon. It’ll be out of view quickly. I reckon it’s the same boat I see at this time on a lot of mornings.

There was briefly a seagull or two between my camera lens and the sun. But Delilah’s view is now free of obstruction.

The pink orb of light is growing.

Two other fit women have joined me on the beach. Joined me insofar that they are sixty yards further down and there is not another soul on the beach, or in sight. Me, and the two of them, who are doing crunches on their respective towels. One is wearing green.

This week I gawked at neutral density filters. Wow, what a game changer that would be for this project! This would be the perfect morning. I’d love to have this much light and an extremely dark ND filter to really slow down the shutter and smooth out the water.

The sun! It has broken the horizon. Indeed, the sun has risen. 6:53AM EST, a minute earlier than my phone suggested. Psch.

Oh look, a second boat is now going parallel to the horizon. Maybe that is the one I frequently see.

I wasn’t looking at the sky the moment the sun broke the horizon. Really, that’s only happened a few times. But it did happen recently, the latest being on Ryan’s rooftop. When you see that precise moment, it’s almost alarming. It doesn’t happen subtly, it is instantaneous, a small bright yellow flash. It quickly jumps out from the horizon, like a young child jumping out from behind the door to surprise their parents. But the parent isn’t really scared or startled, because they knew all along the child was behind the door waiting to jump out. They just didn’t know at what exact moment it would occur, perhaps even exaggerating their excitement for the child’s entertainment.

That’s one of the things I love most about sunrises, the excitement. That form only comes on a clear day like today, something rare in winter but common in summer. I now know this after watching 232 consecutive sunrises. Even so, sometimes I exaggerate my excitement becuase I think the sun would appreciate that.

A sunset does not offer that same delight and surprise. During a sunset you see the child go behind the door. During a sunrise, you never saw the child go behind the door, but you can see their shadow against the wall. So you wait and think… any moment now.

It’s now 7:03.

I’ll be napping soon. I’m going to need it. And I hope the day is a solid productive day. It’ll be totally fine to nap for a couple hours because there is so much of the day ahead with very few obligations. In fact, the only obligation is a tour of a new potential retail space downtown. Rather exciting, but I’m keeping my hopes in check.

Obligations are few, but the to do list is huge. Mammoth. If I can cross off a half dozen items today that would be tremendous.

I think I’ll walk back to my car now. I can feel the mosquito bites. Green is now doing leg lifts. And a backhoe has showed up nearby. Suddenly there is noise otehr than the waves. The world is now awake, and I’ll soon be asleep, at last.

One last thought. What if there was a series of these observational writings. I would call it Coffee and each would be labeled by the coffee shop location and time to begin. Then later on I could do other series.


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