The Photo That Got Away

I took a little trip. On Oʻahu, all trips are short. The wind was a gale, pressing hard from the east, tides above their regular mark. So, I went to the cliffs— where the walls drop, three stories, some more. Rarely have I noticed a wave crest this towering shore. So here I sit upon this rock. Timing the roll of the waves— their sizes, their sound— swells gathering into sets. I just need one, in this spot— a clean fall of water down the rock. I heard it first: the thwap and thug. Tons of water punching rock. No option but up— thirty, forty, fifty feet, joining the wind above my seat, dousing my back. I shrugged it off. I was still after the shot. That was the idea— the fall of water down the rock. I got it. Or so I thought. My ND filter had a fault.