Chimney Rock Sunrise; Point Reyes

Sara in the Sand Dunes // Photo by: Harry Glazier

Sara in the Sand Dunes // Photo by: Harry Glazier

(Click PLAY below to set the mood! - 1:16 is where it picks up!)

There are certain instances in your life, where no matter how long ago they took place, nor how many fresh memories have happen since, they arrive joyfully welcomed at the forefront of your mind when recounted. They were THAT GOOD. Well, that was this morning - Sunrise at Chimney Rock.

It was a brisk Fall morning. Myself, along with two zestful friends, some photo gear, picnic munchies and the most perfect soundtrack, head to the Northern Most Tip of Point Reyes to be greeted by the dawn; And she was please to meet us as well!


I asked my friend Harry Glazier to recount that morning. As much as I enjoy being a storyteller, I love hearing how friends who shared those same moments dream up the details. In his own whimsical way, he paints a portrait of the morning that helps me relive it in all of its immediate wonder. I hope you can imagine your own vision and play along too.


Here's Harry: 

 "I think it was the bag of leftover scones that saved the morning. And in all honesty, it took me half of the drive to completely wake up. But once we reached the park entrance, I knew the trip would not be in vain. Sara, Chris and I had been planning our escapade for a few weeks, in expectation of capturing a glorious sunrise on the coast. Point Reyes is one of the few areas on the west coast where you can watch the the daybreak over water, but Mother Nature had a different plan for the morning. Much to our dismay, upon arrival in Point Reyes, we hit a typical West Marin fog spell. I could barely see just yards in front of the car, but with caution and persistence we arrived in one piece at the Chimney Rock trailhead.

    Bundled head-to-toe in canvas jackets, flannels and jeans, we completed the short hike to the bluffs, blankets and (more) scones in tow. Upon arrival at the top, it was as though we had been transported to alien planet. For the first ten minutes, we could have practically swam in the fog. We snapped a couple shots on the edge of a bottomless cliff, then settled on our blankets to enjoy the morning. Just weeks prior, in a similar early morning trip, my friend Rachel had shown me the Icelandic band Sigur Ros, and I knew it would be fitting for our momentary rest. And we were in luck, too! Sara had brought her portable speaker. It was almost like Mother Nature was in the mood for some post-rock too, because the second we began playing Valtari, the skies opened up just enough for us to see the expanse of eroding bluffs and coastal behemoths.

    Openings in a fog bank like this can sometimes only last for a matter of minutes, maybe even seconds. We knew that if we wanted any shots of the sunrise, or something that could barely be considered a sunrise, this was our chance. So I scooped up my camera and we ran, with no destination in mind: the wind to our backs, reeds brushing our calves, slices of sun cutting through our hair. We lost track of time.

    When I look back on that  morning, I cannot recall how long we spent on top of the bluffs. While I know we would eventually leave to spend time on the beaches and later head home, sometimes I still feel as though we never left Chimney Rock."

Following our time on the bluffs, the dunes below were calling our names like vacant playground slides, dying to be ridden. We tore through the heaps of dewy sand, going ankle deep up and over its curved peaks. The view of the coast was breath taking. As the sun beat a little warmer in the sky, burning off the clouds, we set out to picnic at  a deserted beach. Just us, our scones, a block of cheese and the quite whistle of the wind. 

Chris and Sara Picnic // Photo by: harry glazier

I feel very lucky to gave a circle of people around me that share the same importance for documenting memories as I do. This is a cherished one forever.


Sara De

(All full frame photography above contributed by Harry Glazier)