An Extract from Where The Sea Eats The Land, East Anglia firing by Dan Crockett Images by Jack Johns from issue 103
I’ve always been drawn to those peculiar swells. The ones that come raging from an impossible direction. Watching the readings: 12 foot at six seconds, 15 foot at seven seconds. The angle oblique to the coast which is just one giant sandbar studded with groynes. The shallow little sea loaded up with energy and expectation. Sat up late the night before listening to the wind howling, waiting for the morning twist and a few short and glorious hours. Running down in the half light, the hulks of set waves shadowing the stumps of wood. Bending into long, open tubes. And it’s gone, sometimes for six months, sometimes longer. All like that, furious and short.
If you'd like to see more you can get a single issue HERE
Or Subscribe HERE