Sunrise No. 2,000 of 2,000+
- Sunrise time: 6:14
- Azimuth: 61° ⇡
- Did the sun rise: Yes
- Was the sun visible: Right on time
- Felt like: 78 ºF
- Air Temp: 78 ºF
- Humidity: 96%
- Wind: 7 mph ⇡
Exposure
- 53mm
- f/4.0
- 1/1600 sec
- 100
Botany Bay, Edisto Island, SC
1,039 mile commute
📍 32° 32' 38" N, -80° 14' 0" W
Musings [1602 words]
This isn’t what I sought out to photograph, but it’s the morning scene that was presented to me. Tides and solstices offered unique challenges, but I was there for whatever the morning provided.
Conversely, it’s quite idyllic for me. It’s not quite the palmetto moon, but it is the palmetto sun, and that’s a pretty good thing.
Ok, where do I begin with this one? If it feels more monumental, it’s probably because it is. Not just that it’s two thousand, but this was a mission, a journey, and a dream. I dreamt a dream, a dream that came true.
How did I get here? Watching every sunrise for five and half years isn’t something many people set out to do. Is it driven by obsession? A passion? A way of giving back to the world? My calling? A purpose?
In some ways, it’s easy to explain. In other ways, it’s much harder. Let’s start with this…
Did I choose sunrise, or did sunrise choose me? I didn’t set out to accomplish this milestone, I’m five times further along than the single milestone I set, one year.
Maybe it’s just the feeling that someone had to do it. Someone just close enough to an eastward facing shore. Someone just stubborn enough to never quit. Someone with just enough knowledge about photography and just enough knowledge about web development. Someone with just enough of a sociology background to challenge what sunrise means. Someone with just enough grit, to keep going when things are hard. Someone with just enough love for inclement weather. Someone just thoughtful enough to provide some vulnerability. Someone with just enough vision to see what sunrise can become.
I don’t believe I’m exceptional at any of these. But, if these are the requirements to watch 2,000 sunrises in as many days, I suppose I am uniquely qualified.
Somehow, sunrise found a person with just enough, that after 2,000* sunrises I am still chasing it.
Maybe I didn’t choose sunrise after all, maybe sunrise chose me.
So why? Why am I still here? Still chasing that moment civil twilight turns to daylight.
Other than the stubbornness, here’s what I think…
It is a simple way of life, the simplest, not to be confused with easiest.
Like the air, it’s just there, every morning. We all experience it, somehow, every single day. If you are alive and reading this, there was a sunrise today. You maybe have been asleep, on your commute to work, making breakfast, or any number of things. But there was a sunrise. Sunrise is a fundamental part of our lives, whether we choose to engage with it or not. The day it’s no longer there, neither are we.
We spend mass amounts of our time with finances, careers, family dynamics, and figuring how to get from point A to B to C to Z every day. Most days for myself, I hardly make it past point C. But for 2,000 mornings I’ve made it to point A, which is sunrise. It’s not always easy, it’s not always inspired, I’m not always present, but I was there, I showed up. It’s my benchmark, my guide, the ultimate reset each day.
I am happy to have you on this journey with me. Would I still be doing this without the love and praise from all of you? Honestly, probably not.
I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about my purpose in life, what I’m meant to give back to the world, to my community, with the given set of skills and stubbornness I possess. Over forty years into this world, this is the best way I’ve found to give back. To see people moved, come to tears, have a small token of a memory, moves me and motivated me. It’s a joyful thing to inspire others to do something so little as watch a sunrise. And trust me (you know who you are), it’s not easy to inspire someone to get up and out the door for sunrise.
And while it’s a beautiful purpose for the sunrise years of my life, I still don’t want it to define me. It’s one of only a few projects I’ve been able to put into the world, and there is so much more I’d love to do, most of it having nothing to do with sunrise.
Perhaps to your surprise, sunrise is a small part of my life. And I think that’s how sunrise was designed. It’s there to be witnessed, to be enjoyed, to be in awe of. But we must continue with our days. After sunrise is a life full of love and grief, anxiety and rage, figuring out how to make ends meet, feelings of shortcomings in relationships, epic moments of joy and silliness. In between on a good day, there’s a little time for a delicious coffee and a croissant, maybe even make a slick defensive play in my men’s hockey league, or enjoy a tight embrace from someone I love.
I don’t seek a life of grand moments and gestures, but a life of endless little ones. Each morning, I make sure that happens. Turns out, when you show up every day, you’re there for the grand ones.
Ok… good enough for now.
The Route to Edisto
What began as a campaign to be one mile away from Marquette for every dollar contributed, ended with me on a mission to get the Boneyard Beach at Botany Bay, on Edisto Island, in South Carolina.
In short, I went on a 3,000 mile road trip to photograph dead trees in the water.
Waking up in North Charleston, I had just over an hour drive to the beach on Edisto Island. Full of anticipation, making a big fuss of it all, and not knowing the route, I was up and out the door with plenty of time. But honestly, I didn’t feel that great in the morning. And while it was one of the best dishes I’ve had, the hot chicken the night before may have been a bad choice. A long pit stop and some Pepto Bismol added a little panic to the adventure. Fifteen minutes later I was feeling great.
I was excited to get away from Charleston and into rural South Carolina. The route had me driving through Adams Run, the original post office for 29426 opened in 1843. And what a beautiful scene.
It was at this moment I knew I was in the right place. For years, I had been thinking and fantasizing about sunrise with these dead trees in Atlantic Ocean. I mad it, I’m in the right place, those are the trees I’ve thought of for years.
With the goal of being 1,024 miles away from Marquette for sunrise, I was now 1,039 miles away. Seeing the ocean for the first time in years. I was ecstatic, feeling the power of the wind, the length of waves, embracing the humidity as I sweat through my shirt, standing in this new place after years of hard work. Toto, I’ve a feeling we’re not in Michigan anymore.
Have you ever had a favorite movie, and you’ve known all the scenes and visited the filming location for the first time? That was this experience. Except it was for a dead tree in the water, that I somehow stumbled across years ago while researching sunrise. It was surreal, but… real. I could finally smell this place, I could feel the heat and humidity, I could hear the ocean.
I had made it. Not just on this trip, but on this epic journey of 5+ years. It’s real, it’s all real, every sunrise I’ve watched, every morning I’ve experienced. There are all real, tangible moments in which I was there, feeling the elements around me. Two thousand mornings of wind and rain and heat and cold and snow, of awe and beauty, of love and pain, of boredom and inspiration.
I dreamt a dream and that dream came true.
One last look.
As the tide came in, and I felt sufficed with my time, I took one last look down the beach, I began to think to myself, “How long before I get back here again? Will I ever get back here again?” I needed that last moment and thought to carry forward the rest of the trip. The rush to get somewhere was over, and each stop of the way I was sure to take extra time.
A visit to Angel Oak
After leaving Edisto Island I was thinking of heading home to rest, take a nap, or write. But I pulled an immediate u-turn when I drove past a sign for Angel Oak. I had planned to visit it the following day, but no better time than the present.
Everyone should have several favorite trees, memorable trees, sentimental trees, and trees they want to see again. How connected can you be with nature if there’s not a tree you find yourself thinking about again and again?
As far as famous trees go, Angel Oak is one of those. It took 17 years to get back here, and I thought about this tree a lot in that time.
Angel Oak is beautiful and stunning. Estimated to be up to 500 years old, this Southern live oak is one of the most visited trees in the United States.
Inspired by Angel Oak, and other memorable trees, there are now countless trees I think of from time to time, many of them have been documented through Year of the Sunrise.
I hope there is a tree you’re thinking about now.
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