The vast swell of the Pacific Ocean lies between Queensland and California. An air trip between Brisbane and Los Angeles arcs over islands and shipwrecks and reefs. The ocean cleaves — in both senses of the word — two cultures which many would argue are increasingly similar. On a day where the sky over Brisbane has been the broadest, polished kind, I recall a similar expanse of Californian blue across the heavens. There’s openness to get lost in, the sense of the horizons being a trick of the eye, a road that just keeps going.
I took the photo to the left in Santa Barbara, California, next to the Mission first built by Franciscan monks in 1786. The road’s heading east, with a whole lot of country traced beneath its bitumen. Just as I depressed the shutter I wanted to walk that road. But there were other plans and booked tickets and finite resources. It was some time before the momentum urging me eastwards dissipated. I promised then I’d surrender next time. It is exquisite to just go.