Timing is everything when shooting waves.
Too early and you get the swell. Too late and you get the aftermath. You need the exact moment when water meets rock and physics takes over. When tons of ocean compress into explosion.
I stood on the rocks at the edge of the shore, watching the patterns. Waves come in sets. You learn to count. To anticipate. To predict which one will hit hardest based on how the water pulls back between surges.
This was the one.
The shelf was already slick from previous waves. The water rushing back created these temporary rivers across the stone. And then the next wave hit. Not rolling. Not cresting. Just pure force meeting immovable object.
I shot at high shutter speed to freeze the spray. Every droplet suspended. The texture of the rock. The violence of the white water. The power contained in that single instant.
People think the ocean is peaceful. It's not. It's relentless. It's been throwing itself against these rocks for thousands of years. The rocks are losing.
This is what erosion looks like in real time.