Stressful and early. That’s the only way to describe that morning. The drive was an hour long, which meant getting up before 4 a.m. to be in the ocean before sunrise at 5. But the real stress came from the unknown—I had never swum or taken photos at this spot before. It wasn’t a typical swimming beach. It was far out, surrounded by rocks, and, as I soon discovered, the very area where people sign up for shark cage diving. Yep. I spotted the sign as I drove in.
So, as you can imagine, stepping out of the car and preparing to jump into the water was nerve-wracking. There was a bit of a walk to the jump-off point, so I made sure to scout the area properly. I needed to know exactly where I’d be getting in—and, more importantly, how I’d get back out. The only real option seemed to be coming back in on the rocks, which, given the rough conditions that morning, wasn’t ideal. The waves were hammering an exposed rock just offshore, and that’s exactly what I had come to photograph. It was a unique setup, and I had already imagined the type of image I wanted to capture here.
I ran back to the car, now fully energized after seeing these incredible waves detonating against the rock. The sun was about to rise. I quickly suited up, grabbed my camera and fins, and sprinted back to the jump-off spot. A layer of cloud cover meant I wasn’t expecting an overly vivid orange-and-purple sunrise, but the lighting still looked promising, and the ocean was crystal clear.
The jump itself was intense. The rocks were jagged, covered in sharp barnacles, and waves were relentlessly surging over them. Timing had to be perfect. I leapt in unscathed, but immediately, I was fighting through thick foam, powerful surges, and swirling currents as I navigated around the rocks to reach my shooting position.
By the time I got into place, I was completely out of breath. The setup of this location was brutal—waves breaking in front of jagged rocks, the whole area acting like a small bay, but without any beach, just more rocks. Further out, the ocean sucked water through gaps in the exposed rock, creating a relentless current pulling everything toward the impact zone. It was a battle just to hold position.
Then, the first few waves came through. The sound of them smashing against the rock was deafening, like rolling thunder, shaking the air around me. It added to the morning’s intensity. The sun was now just high enough to catch the spray, lighting up the chaos in golden hues.
In the corner of my eye, I saw it—an enormous lump of water rising up. I knew I had to backpedal immediately. After each wave, the ocean would pull back toward the rock, dragging me dangerously close to the impact zone. Fighting against that suction, I repositioned myself, realizing this was going to be the biggest wave of the morning. I had to be ready.
I steadied myself, quickly clearing my lens port of water droplets, adjusting my settings in seconds. Then it happened. The wave stood up, towering, as all the water below was sucked into its core. It pitched forward, colliding with the rock in an explosion of power—water detonating skyward in a spectacle so fierce I wasn’t even sure if I had recorded it. It all happened in an instant. A moment so raw, so violent, that I barely processed what I had just witnessed.
Heart pounding, I checked my camera’s preview while backpedaling to safety. What I saw sent a jolt through my system. It was even more outrageous than I had imagined.
A force of nature, captured in a split second. This wave—chaotic, ferocious, yet stunning—painted in deep blues and lit by golden sunlight, was a testament to the ocean’s unstoppable power. It was a reminder that no force, no barrier, could ever truly contain it.
I named the image HERCULES, a fitting tribute to the sheer strength and raw energy of that moment. In mythology, Hercules represents unparalleled power, endurance, and a relentless force that overcomes all obstacles. That wave was just that—unstoppable, untamed, and commanding respect.
Looking at the photo, every moment of stress, every ounce of effort, the early start, the long drive—everything—was worth it.
These moments make me incredibly grateful. Grateful to witness them, to capture them, and to share them with you. I hope this image gives you a glimpse into the sheer intensity and beauty of the ocean, a force that never ceases to amaze me.
HERCLUES
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