I know, it’s a cliche shot. Don’t judge me.
Friday, February 13th, 2015, the day before Valentine’s Day. I was very single and as of 8:00PM EST, I was very unemployed. I thought I could be a news producer and instead I face planted – the first (and hopefully the last) time I was fired from a job. Writing those words now feels therapeutic, but three years ago I could barely think about it let alone put it on paper. So, with no significant other, no job, no obligations, and no prospects, I did what most people would do; I ran away from my problems. Literally.
Telling myself I needed to find the farthest, most secluded place I could drive to in a few hours, my brain landed on Montauk. It made sense. It was winter, which meant almost every business was closed; no tourists. I booked a room on the outskirts of the town - the only available room (not an exaggeration) - and left early the next morning. With a blizzard rolling in, everyone else was rolling out. Normally that would have deterred me, but if I’m being honest, I didn’t care about playing it safe. With snow gear, a bag of food, my trusty camera and a stack of books (who am I kidding, there were graphic novels in there too), my weekend was about finding peace not safety.
While checking in, most people were fleeing the weather - even the staff. The room was an efficiency, which luckily meant I had a kitchen to warm up some food. I had picked up a few meals on the drive from a restaurant in Amagansett Village with no name other than Latin Cuisine. Unfortunately, it is no longer in business. Those meals were a blessing that weekend and also sparked a love of all Latin cuisine.
The room had thick walls and a perfect view of the beach. I curled up next to the porch window with my books and watched the blizzard worsen. I’d finished up the first book when the beach was consumed by the whiteout, but I could still see the neighboring houses. Not far into book two the neighbors were gone. At the halfway mark, I could see as far as the picket fence marking the hotel’s property. Before I could get through the next chapter, all I could see was a fluid wall of gray-white. It was truly wonderful. Just the white noise and me.
I woke up around 6:00AM with a book on my face and drool in my beard. Sexy, I know. The snow had stopped, but the wind made sure everyone knew it was still hanging around. According to the Weather Channel, it was -15 Fahrenheit with the wind chill. I packed on as many layers I could, pulled on my snow boots, and grabbed my camera. Walking on the beach in the winter is one of my favorite things to do. It’s both refreshing and peaceful. It’s also a good leg workout. The hour I spent trudging along the frozen beach, I didn’t see a single living thing - only the raging waves. If it wasn’t for my face going numb, I would have walked all the way to the lighthouse. Looking back, it’s a miracle I didn’t end up with frostbite.
I made it back to Lawrence - that’s my jeep’s name - and put the heat on full blast. Took a while to thaw out, but it worked. I’m sure right now you’re saying, “Why didn’t you just go back to your room?”
My response to that is, “Well now you’re just being logical.”
My better judgment stopped me from climbing the icy rocks to the edge of the jetty.
Once I could feel my fingers and toes again I set out for the village of Montauk. The wind knocked Lawrence around like a paper kite. The lines on the road weren’t even a suggestion. As I came to the center of the village, I saw everything was closed up, boarded up, and asleep for the winter. The roads had barely been plowed. I went North to the harbor first where it was cold, but, as sub-zero temperatures go, it was bearable. I walked around Gosman’s dock, alone. In the summer, Gosman’s is full of people and loud with the bustling of the restaurants and bars. In the winter, it was silent. Still. After getting a few quick shots of the bay, I climbed back into Lawrence and made my toward the main event.
The wind at Montauk Point, otherwise known as The End, was so strong it blew me back into my jeep. I threw all 155 pounds of my scrawny body against the door. It pushed open enough for me to fall out and onto the pavement of the parking lot. And that was the easy part. While the Montauk Lighthouse closes in the off-season, the beach surrounding it does not. I took my time getting down the steep path. In the summer it’s a leisurely walk. In -15 F weather, post-blizzard, it rapidly becomes an icy slip ’n slide. Finally making it to the beach, the half-frozen water had mixed with the sand to create a muddy, quick sand-like substance that nearly pulled my boots off with every step. Once I got ankle deep into the water it was much easier to walk. Don’t worry, my shin-high boots were water-sealed.
Determined to get a solid shot of the lighthouse, I made it about 50 feet out into the shallows. Most of the waves were no only a few inches high since they lose momentum on the rocks. With my back to the Atlantic, I pulled my camera up to my eye, squeezed the shutter and took what is now one of my favorite photos. Then it happened. A wave about as high as my thighs snuck up on me and knocked me face first into the ocean. My instincts took over. Left hand out to brace for impact, right hand up to keep the camera out of the water. My entire body went under except for my right arm.
The shot that almost killed me.
I came up for air and the wind hit me in the face. Time froze. My life flashed before me. Was I dead? That’s what happens when you die, right? Your life flashes before you? You know what I saw? Me. Working. And working. And working. All I did was dive into the deep end of every job I worked and I wanted to punch myself in the teeth. It ran on repeat, around and around like a zoetrope. It wouldn’t stop. I never stopped. Not to appreciate the world around me, or the people in my life or all I had accomplished. Time caught up with me when I exhaled. As I stood there, I could feel the water on my face freezing over. The clock was ticking before hypothermia set in, but the only thing I could do was laugh. If there was anyone else on the beach that day, I must have looked completely insane and I’m okay with that.
That wave is responsible for who I am today. It was the exact moment I decided to appreciate life. To see the world and experience, well, everything. I put myself out there and started dating again. If not for that, I would not have met my fiancé. I took more risks in my career and chose the projects I enjoyed working on. And I took time for me. Up until my trip to Montauk, I hadn’t been on a vacation in my adult life.
In the last three years, I’ve made it a point to travel and take time for myself; the time experience the world around me. Not everyone has the ability to travel for a long list of reasons, but if your only reason is you’d rather sit at home and dive into a long binge-watch…don’t. It doesn’t matter if it’s a walk around the block, a 10-minute drive to one of your favorite spots or a flight time in double-digits, just get out there. I am many things, but rich is not one of them. I will not be buying a house anytime soon and I most definitely do not live or travel in luxury. I can, however, say that I’ve lived and will continue to do so. When you die, no one remembers you for the house you live in or the things you acquire. You’re remembered for the life you live. I’m no life guru; take everything I say with a bucket of salt. What I can say without hesitation is everyone should find their frozen ocean and jump right in.
I took this as I ran away to my car. Looking back now, I can see the waves getting rougher.