Canaveral Lock, Port Canaveral

Fujifilm XT-20, Fujinon 18-135mm lens at 18mm, f/16, 1/80sec @ ISO 200

Fujifilm X-T10, Rokinon 10mm lens, f/8, 1/320sec., ISO 200

Fujifilm X-T10, Rokinon 10mm lens, f/8, 1/500sec., ISO 200

Fujifilm XT-20, Fujinon 18-135mm lens at 135mm, f/20, 1/640sec @ ISO 200

A few weeks ago I had no idea that Canaveral Lock existed.

I was scouring the internet for local photographic opportunities and came across a mention of the lock being at the west end of the ship channel, near Exploration Tower and Jetty Park.

Canaveral Lock was built when a canal was dug in the narrow bit of land between what is now the port's ship channel and the Banana River Lagoon.

Only problem was the small, daily, three to four foot tides that would make the narrow canal a rushing river.

Answer, the lock.

I headed up to the lock, about thirty five or forty miles north of my home to see and to photograph. The channel and lock are at the southern end of Kennedy Space Center and Cape Canaveral Air Force Station. The strange thing is that I have been within a half mile of this lock many times as I have been in this area photographing rocket launches and whatnot.

So, as locks go, this one deals with the small tides in the area, but it's pretty neat to me nonetheless.

The four photos are: 1, foot entrance for visitors. 2, the gates of the eastern end that open into the western Port Canaveral ship channel. 3, a pleasure boat going through the opening eastern gates. 4, looking west down the length of the lock into the Banana River Lagoon (and the ultra-bright evening sun).

Wood Stork in Port Canaveral

Fujifilm XT-20, Fujinon 18-135mm lens at 135mm, f/5.6, 1/30sec @ ISO 200

Many people would recognize this as a stork.
It's not a particularly great picture of a stork, but is is a clear, close picture of a stork.
I posted this so y'all could get a good look at what a stork really looks like in detail.
Enlarge the photo and get a good look at this thing.
When we moved to Florida all those years ago, I was not prepared for just how ugly these birds are.
Their head/neck/face is the stuff of nightmares.
Plus, although they are fairly large birds, they're way too small to be carrying infant babies hanging from their beaks in white bed sheets long distances in flight.
That leaves me wondering, "Where DID I come from?"

Before Sunrise at Castaways Point Park

tripod, Fujifilm XT-20, Fujinon 18-135mm lens at 18mm, f/14, 25sec @ ISO 200

I had gone to Port Canaveral to see a rocket launch, but the rocket launch was scrubbed.
Instead of going straight home, I went to Castaways Point Park in Palm Bay.
Coming down I-95, as I got to Palm Bay, I could juuuust make out a blueness to the sky instead of blackness, and knew morning twilight was here.
The park is just a few miles from our home, so I went and set up my tripod in a place where I knew the sun would eventually come up behind this derelict sailboat at the park.
(I used The Photographer's Ephemeris to project where the day's sunrise would occur in relation to various points in the park. On this morning, I used the Android mobile app version of The Photographer's Ephemeris on my phone.  So, I knew within a few feet of exactly where I needed to stand to get the sunrise and the boat together. I cannot tell you just how amazingly useful the ephemeris has been to me for several years now.)
By the time I had my tripod/camera set up, the horizon was orange.
So I look my first shot, above.
It was a great sunrise, more photos later, but I just loved the deep blue sky that appeared with the orange band at the horizon in this 25sec shot.

Great Blue Heron and Great Orange Sunset

tripod, Fujifilm XT-20, Fujinon 18-135mm lens at 135mm, f/22, 1/4sec @ ISO 200

tripod, Fujifilm XT-20, Nikon 300mm w/1.4X (35mm = 630mm), f/8, 1/80sec @ ISO 400

Much of this past spring, and most of this summer, about twenty minutes before sunset, a solid wall of clouds have appeared in the distance and right along the horizon most days.
You just have to go out anyway, but this day surely looked clear less than an hour before sunset, so I was hopeful for a few shots of the red ball 'o sun touching the horizon.
My hopes were mostly dashed.
The sun gave its all though, sending some bright orange rays through the sudden clouds as if he were determined to not be blocked.
As I took a few photos of the orangey sky with this derelict pier/boat cover in the foreground, a great blue hereon flew up and landed on the boat cover.
He posed there for a while.
Long enough for me to go to my camera bag on the picnic table near me and get out and change my lens to my old Nikon 300mm f/5.6 lens with the Nikon TC-14 extender and a Nikon AI to Fujifilm X lens adapter. This gives me a 450mm telephoto on my crop frame sensor, and the 35mm equivalent of a 630mm lens.
Sometimes I feel I should wag that semi-heavy beast around with me and on this day, followed my gut. Sometimes I have carried it around without taking it out, but it paid off on this particular evening.
That lens allowed me to get a couple of pretty neat shots of the heron up there against that dramatic orange backdrop.

Blue Sky Rainbows

Fujifilm XT-20, Fujinon 18-135mm lens at 88mm, f/14, 1/320sec @ ISO 200

Fujifilm XT-20, Fujinon 18-135mm lens at 32mm, f/14, 1/200sec @ ISO 200

Is there such a thing?

Did I just invent a new term?

Probably not.  I know, I know.  Google it.

Hmmm.

Mixed results. Not exactly like I was thinking of the term, but close enough I guess.

A blue sky rainbow is a rainbow that appears on an otherwise sunny day with lots of blue sky.

I saw two of them last week within three days.

The first one was this past Wednesday at a local park, Castaways Point Park in Palm Bay.

There is a sailboat wrecked there that has been there well over a year now.

I had gone there Thursday evening at about 6pm so the afternoon sun would be just right on that wrecked boat.

There was a rainbow above the boat from the shore of the park and I posted that photo on this blog on Wednesday, August 2nd.

I was in Port Canaveral on Saturday and saw another one.

Neither one was a complete arch from end to end, but I rarely have seen a full rainbow anyway.

I had visited Canaveral Lock and when I looked eastward down the ship channel toward the Atlantic, there was one end of another blue sky rainbow.

That second one was harder to photograph, it was fading even from the second I first noticed it.

The two photos on today's post are from the rainbow I saw on Saturday in Port Canaveral.

Scroll back in this blog to Wednesday's post to see the clearer one, at a local park.

Come to think of it, both rainbows were out over the Atlantic.

Still, it's a nifty phenomenon.

Genesis 9:13 I have set my rainbow in the clouds, and it will be the sign of the covenant between me and the earth.

Lesson Learned

tripod, Fujifilm XT-20, Fujinon 18-135mm lens at 29mm, f/20, 0.8sec @ ISO 200

If out with my camera in the evenings, and the light seems to be gone, and therefore my shooting done, I head back to the Camry.
If I'm in a public place, I mostly stop at a convenient park bench and go ahead and turn everything off and put everything away in my camera bag. I completely fold up the tripod for the night.
When I get to the car, I can place packed bag and folded tripod in the back seat and head home.
When I get home, hey!, the camera's ready to grab and take inside. Simple.
Problem is, I often see "One More Shot" on the way to the car that I would take if I still had my camera out. Or as I pull away in the car I see another photo screaming to be made.
I have often ignored that urge for one more shot because I simply don't feel like unpacking my camera and unfolding my tripod, setting it all up again for three or four last shots.
Pure laziness. Inertia.
Saturday night in Port Canaveral, Florida, I had been taking some sunset photos that featured the nifty-looking Exploration Tower.
As explained above, I passed a seating area after the sky's color was deadened, and put all of my equipment away.
I got in the car, backed out, drove to the first good place for me to turn around and turned and headed toward home.
Well, as I looked at the tower to my left, I saw a lovely photo with the tower, whose lights were now coming on, against the very last, pale sunset colors.
Without trying, I envisioned the photo you see above, and knew that this time I could not just ignore the impulse for one more shot. In my mind I had already jazzed up the colors and contrast to something gorgeous.
I pulled into a parking spot again, and it turned out to be the exact parking spot I had just left.
I quickly jumped out (if you can in any way consider my slow-motion to be "quick" or "jump" in any way) and unpacked the camera and tripod.
I simply took about three paces in front of the parked car and set up the camera/tripod and framed and shot about five images.
Then I had to pack it all up again and head home. For real this time.
When I got my photos on the computer, this one caught my eye as having the most potential.
I jiggled it in Lightroom and resized it in Photoshop and ended up with my favorite image of the whole day's shooting.
From now on, I will not fully put my camera away, and fully fold up my tripod until I get home.
Lesson learned.

Over the Line

Fujifilm XT-20, Fujinon 18-135mm lens at 18mm, f/16, 1/180sec @ ISO 640

This was actually shot with me standing in our county neighbor to the south, Indian River County.
It's a wide angle shot at Sebastian Inlet State Park.
The inlet itself is a dividing line between Brevard and Indian River Counties.
In the distance in the photo is a jetty sticking out into the Atlantic Ocean. That jetty is on the north side of the inlet, in Brevard County.
So, I guess you could say this is a photo of Brevard, taken from Indian River County.
Not quite so grand as that See Seven States! mountain vantage point on Lookout Mountain, Tennessee.
But on a hot afternoon, as the sun goes down, and a breeze comes along, and with the pastel colored sky here, this is pretty hard to beat if you ask me.

Rainbow at Castaways Point Park

Fujifilm XT-20, Fujinon 18-135mm lens at 40mm, f/18, 1/100sec @ ISO 200

Well, actually "I" was at Castaways Point Park in Palm Bay, the rainbow was some miles away, out over the Atlantic Ocean.
I'm not exactly sure why there was a rainbow in an almost totally clear sky, but I'm not going to sit and reason why when there are photos to be taken.
Of course, I was right in getting right to the photography and leaving the wondering why until later because the rainbow faded within ten minutes or so.
I had come to this little beach within the intracoastal waterway at this particular time to get some nice golden afternoon sun on that wrecked boat there.
The rainbow was a bonus.
About five minutes after taking this shot I had a bad fall and banged myself up pretty good and soaked myself in the brackish water. I also got my camera gear somewhat wet too. I dragged myself up and came straight home to lick my wounds and dry my camera gear. My camera has fog in the viewfinder, so it is presently undergoing my personal, tried-and-true methods of drying and rescuing wet electronics. I won't bore you with the details of that.
We artists sometimes have to suffer for our art.
Or, you could just call me clumsy.

Trees at Ryckman Park, Re-do

Fujifilm XT-20, Fujinon 18-135mm lens at 18mm, f/18, 1/80sec @ ISO 200

A few days back I posted a bright, vividly colored version of this photo.
I tried to give that photo the old "thick" look of slide film (which I shot for many years).
And although I liked the color version very much, I knew when I made the photograph that the heavy contrast in the scene would probably make this a good looking B&W image as well.
So, here ya go!
I need to work on my B&W processing in Lightroom and Photoshop. 
I can mostly get the look I want in color photo manipulation, but my B&W shots seem to leave me with a vague sense of having missed the mark in some way.
It's like getting ready and leaving to go to, say, a birthday party, repeatedly double-checking myself, but leaving feeling like I forgot something like forgetting the gift.

When Life Gives You Lemons...

Fuji XT-20, Fuji 18-135mm lens at 135mm, f/13, 1/10sec, ISO 200

Riverside Park (Indialantic, Fla.) Sunset panorama #3,488,526,330. But Who's Counting?
Sunrises and sunsets here may often be blocked by clouds. This summer alone I think the clouds have blocked more "big orange ball o' sun touching the horizon" sunsets than all our years here combined.
But, hey, us photographer types are already out there, so, we snap away.
Sometimes magic happens anyway, like orange-y sky on the left sharply divided with blue/pink sky on the right. ...Lemonade.
It's like the way a gambler is addicted to THIS TIME I'M GONNA WIN BIG feeling, that prompts photographers to go out looking for a big payoff.
Sometimes that sunset, as this one was, is one heck of a consolation prize.
I really wish I could convey the warm air, the smell, the sound of water lapping in a 2D photograph.  I try. I seriously try to make my photos force the viewer to have the total sensory stimulation I had when there watching this.

At Melbourne Harbor Marina, Melbourne, Florida

Fujifilm X-T20, Fuji 18-135mm lens at 18mm, f/18, 1/125sec., ISO 200

Fujifilm X-T20, Fuji 18-135mm lens at 70mm, f/18, 1/125sec., ISO 200

The light was gorgeous.
The temperature was hot enough to make a super-fit triathlete swoon.
Suffering for art, and sweating out some impurities.
The heat affects me, but strangely, doesn't bother me as much as it did when I were younger.

Rare Sunrise

Fujifilm X-T20, Fuji 18-135mm lens at 44mm, f/11, 1/4000sec., ISO 200

Fujifilm X-T10, Pano/HDR w/Rokinon 10mm lens, f/8, 1/600sec., ISO 200

No, sunrises aren't rare.
Me being there to see one, IS rare.
I am by nature a night person and am often deathly allergic to mornings.
Sometimes though, I wake up early AND inspired and take off with my camera bag and tripod.
Though here, true to form, I was actually late for the sun rising above the horizon.
Not a morning person; check.  Chronically late; check.
At least I didn't miss all the beauty happening over the bay, called Palm Bay, where Turkey Creek meets the Indian River Lagoon.  (And presumably where the city behind my back while taking these photographs got it's name)
Is it just me, or does the boat there look a lot like the S.S. Minnow?

Set Up for Sunset

Fujifilm XT-10, Rokinon 10mm lens, f/8, 1/320sec., ISO 200

A week ago, I made the drive to Sebastian Inlet State Park, hoping for an amazing sunset.
As has happened many times this summer there was a distant line of clouds up to about ten degrees above the horizon that killed any Big-Solar-Orb-Touching-The-Earth type sunsets.  I did, however, get some nice shots with the sun above lowest clouds and above the center of the bridge.
I got a few other shots that I like, of fishermen and whatnot, but I liked this photo too.
I don't remember taking one with my other camera of my Fuji XT-20 and lens on the tripod.  I had taken one like it with my phone to send to my wife to show here where/how I was set and ready, and texted that to her.
Anyhoo, if nothing else, it's a personal documentary shot, with some beauty in it as well.
It does vaguely disturb me that I took this shot without remembering and had it be a surprise to me when I saw it on the computer when downloaded later.

Boat Wreck, Sebastian, Florida

Panorama shot with Fujifilm XT-20, Fuji 18-135mm lens at 18mm, f/22, 1/125sec., ISO 200

I would have thought that, since any boat is expensive, people wouldn't abandon them to the elements.
Boy, was I wrong. I guess I've seen a lot of abandoned cars in my life too, but seeing a boat end up this way is even sadder.
In the years we've been in Florida, I have seen many washed up boats.
Some on the Atlantic Ocean beach nearby, but more so in the Indian River Lagoon.
The Lagoon is a natural protective area for smaller boats, but with most years sending at least a sizeable tropical storm over us, there's always a boat or five that get shaken loose from their mooring and end up derelict on the Indian Rivers Lagoon's shore somewhere.
Recently Number One Daughter and I went out for some early morning photography and as we were on our way back, we passed this sad sight.
I had to get out and take a few shots.
That was once a brand-new boat, no doubt bought to carry someone's hopes and dreams of lots of sailing the seas in it.
It ends up like this until whatever county it is in can afford to have someone who gets rid of such large trash come and take it away. I think we were back in Brevard County at this point, so I reckon someone will try to track the owner and put the responsibility on their shoulders to take care of it.
The length of time these boats stay like this leads me to believe that owners are rarely found and get right on to getting their mess cleaned away.
I have no idea where these things are taken when finally removed.
I guess the boating world must have their equivalent of tow trucks and scrap yards.
Somewhere.

Trees at Ryckman Park, Melbourne Beach

Fujifilm XT-20, Fuji 18-135mm lens at 18mm, f/5, 1/200sec., ISO 200

Not much to say here about the subject matter.  Shadows, color, contrast in the evening Florida sun..
I was actually on my way to the restroom at the park when I turned to look behind me and was wowed by the shadows of the trees.
If I go out photographing with others, I soon get left behind because I stop, turn around, and scan for interesting scenes while others ramble on. 
Stopping and turning to look behind me when I'm out with my camera was something I learned from reading a western novel when I was young.
In the novel, an old-timer told a young greenhorn that as he proceeded through any territory, to take a minute every few minutes to look behind and study the land in case he had to backtrack.  The traveler should then be better able to retrace his steps if necessary. It may save his life.
As a budding young amateur photographer at the time, I considered this sage advice for a wandering photographer, and adopted this survival wisdom from, in theory, the old west.
I have, for decades now, made it a habit to scan the land behind me as I walk with my camera.  There's often a great picture there I would miss by never turning to study what is behind me.
Even if I get left behind.
That long-ingrained habit paid off with this one.
It was my best shot that day.
I'm most often out alone, so my habit usually doesn't bother anyone, and I know how to get safely back to my car.

The Burger Inn, Melbourne, Florida

Panorama, Fujifilm XT-10, Rokinon 10mm lens, f/5.6, 1/320sec., ISO 200

Fujifilm XT-20, Fuji 18-135mm lens at 18mm, f/5, 1/200sec., ISO 200

Fujifilm XT-20, Fuji 18-135mm lens at 29mm, f/8, 1/150sec., ISO 200

The Burger Inn is at 1819 N Harbor City Boulevard (aka, US1) in Melbourne, Florida.
As a wee lad, nothing, and I mean nothing, was as awesome a meal to me as a restaurant hamburger.  My parents were each fantastic cooks, and their burgers were top notch, but going out somewhere and ending the trip with a restaurant burger was all this boy could ask for.
Living in the small town of Vidalia, Louisiana, we would sometimes go as a family across the adjacent Mississippi River into Natchez, Mississippi for whatever my parents wanted in shopping. They had a Sears, Roebuck & Co. store!
Such trips often meant stopping at Burger Chef, a now-defunct restaurant chain.  They were near the top of the heap as far as my childhood mind could rate a hamburger.
In Vidalia itself, a tasty "store-bought" hamburger (i.e. not made at home by my parents) could be had near our house, in what was once a Dairy Queen.  That was an acceptable substitute for Burger Chef, and hey, it was practically down the street.
When we would go to central Louisiana, to LaSalle Parish, to visit grandparents or other relatives, there was a place down there in Olla, called the Burger Barn.
The Olla Burger Barn was also, somewhere in the dim mists of times past, a Dairy Queen as well.
As a kid, and even as an adult, a trip to LaSalle Parish meant a trip to the Burger Barn.  They're still cranking out burgers all these decades later, and they're still tasty.
I do suspect that the awesomeness of the burgers at the Olla Burger Barn are somewhat enhanced in my mind with the healthy sprinkling of nostalgia I tend to add to the burgers when eating there.
The only problem with going to the Burger Barn now is that they also sell some of the best fried catfish you've ever eaten, and as an adult I do looooove me some catfish.
Being a full-figure guy, I can handle an order of the catfish and fries AND a hamburger, for a feast without compare.
Now, to the Melbourne, Florida Burger Inn.
Man, oh, man, these folks will serve you an old-school burger completely worthy of all my childhood dreams and memories.
If you pull in in your car and leave your lights on for a minute, they'll come and take your order and serve you at the car.  I usually get out and sit at a table and face the restaurant instead of the highway, so I can take in the vintage, stainless steel ambience of the place. They also have a counter inside at which to eat, complete with spinning stainless steel stools.  Lots of vintage 50s style decor as well.
If you are a simple person who loves simple pleasures and simple foods, you can't do much better than taking a trip to the past and chowing down on the cheeseburgers and fries at the Burger Inn.
The Burger Inn's burgers have all the flavor that I could have asked for as a kid, but also as a rapidly aging adult.

Fujifilm XT-20, Fuji 18-135mm lens at 23mm, f/9, 1/170sec., ISO 200

The Palm Bay Couch

Fujifilm XT-10, Rokinon 10mm lens, f/5.6, 1/500sec., ISO 200

Fujifilm XT-20, Fuji 18-135mm lens at 18mm, f/16, 1/200sec., ISO 400

Fujifilm XT-20, Fuji 18-135mm lens at 135mm, f/8, 1/400sec., ISO 400

There's a couch (actually, a love seat) that appeared on Palm Bay Road on the sidewalk next to the west-bound turn lane into the Walmart shopping center.
The couch has been there a while, and many began to wonder just how long it was going to take the City of West Melbourne to pick up this dumped item.  (Technically, that area there with Walmart on Palm Bay Road belongs to West Melbourne, not Palm Bay.)
Well, someone got clever and placed a throw rug on the sidewalk in front of the couch, you know, to dress it up a little while waiting on the authorities.
This began a cascade of items appearing all around the love seat, curtains, end table, lamp, books, extra chair with guitar propped in it.
You get the idea.
I dropped by on Sunday afternoon to visit The Palm Bay Couch while out and about with my camera, with the idea to eventually head to Sebastian Inlet.
Now The Palm Bay Couch has its own Facebook page!
People are funny.
I love nutty stuff like this.
Now that The Palm Bay Couch is all fixed up with accoutrements (pronounced ah-coo-tre-MON, for those, like me who went to Louisiana public schools), it will probably be disposed of within days.
That's just the way the world works.
I even signed the visitor's list someone placed there.

UPDATE Monday, July, 16:  Sinister forces came and took all the items away.  Just as I predicted.

Looks Like a Horse to Me

Fujifilm XT-20, Fuji 18-135mm lens at 135mm, f/9, 1/250sec., ISO 200

I was out with some of my old film cameras this afternoon.  I was taking a few shots with each camera to develop and scan and show as example photos that the cameras work well when I sell them in the near future.
Afterward, there was some sunlight left, and I went to the Melbourne Harbor Marina and walked around until the sun went below the clouds, this afternoon's horizon.
This cloud formation took shape as I walked back toward my car and I thought it looked like a horse, whinnying.
Later, as I was driving home, this shape had stretched out to look like one of the lean, long, sharp-faced dragons in movies.

Color AND Black and White

Fujifilm XT-20, Fuji 18-135mm lens at 41.3mm, f/16, 1/125sec., ISO 200

Fujifilm XT-20, Fuji 18-135mm lens at 41.3mm, f/16, 1/125sec., ISO 200

My photographic background, learning, roots, or whatever, can pretty much be summed up in the phrase "Color AND Black and White."
My first camera, a Kodak Pony IV, was found, almost totally forgotten, in a closet at my parent's home when I was 13.
Having no instruction manual, I checked out library books from Robert E. Lee Junior High School, and later Neville High School, and learned f-stops, shutter speeds, ASA (now ISO), optic theory and all manner of things about operating a camera and also about how cameras operate.  (That last part, being just as interested in how things operate, would be a crucial part of my psyche in pushing me to become an engineer, but that's another story.)
I used that Pony IV to take snapshots of my friends and I until a couple of years later I when I had saved enough money from mowing lawns to buy a brand-spanking-new Canon AE-1.
With the AE-1 came learning to develop black and white film and black and white prints.
I had the joy and foundation of developing many rolls of TRI-X and thousands of black and white photos while on the yearbook staff in high school.
I took a couple of photography courses for fun while in college the first time and learned from a truly kind and patient and passionate instructor more about all aspects of photography.
By the end of my college photography classes, I was so very disillusioned with color 35mm prints.
You take a photo, and you get back prints produced by some machine, or if you spent the money, some other person's ideas of what you wanted your prints to look like.
I had begun dating Lovely Wife by this time and her father, my future Father in Law, was an amateur photographer who took 35mm slides.
I was in awe of the color and clarity of the slides and so bought my first roll of slide film, some Agfa slide film.
This led to decades of slide film use.
Even to this day, my grown daughters beg me to prepare slide shows when they come to town or are around on special occasions.
Digital photography, to me, is like putting on a favorite old flannel shirt.  The "expose for the highlights" ethos that dominated my decades of slide film use is back in play with a vengeance.
Now to the two photos above.
Based on my personal experience with black and white imagery AND with the foot-thick, saturated colors from Kodachrome and Velvia slide films, I often see an amazingly colored image through the viewfinder and know that the colors themselves make the photo worthwhile.
On the other hand, some looks through the viewfinder have me immediately planning a contrast-y black and white final image.
This photo of the bright yellow pedestrian crossing sign with the rows of palm trees in the background was one of those photos where the instant I looked through the viewfinder and saw my composition come together, I knew this would have to have to be processed in both ways.
I hope you like them both.  I do.

Tide Pool at Sebastian Inlet State Park, Florida

Fujifilm XT-20, Fuji 18-135mm lens at 36.6mm, f/5.6, 1/1000sec., ISO 200

Sebastian Inlet State Park is, as state parks go, a small but amazing state park.
I have been to the Atlantic Ocean beach here (behind my back while taking this pano) many times, yet have never actually even waded into this tide pool.
On a hot summer weekend day though, all the picnic tables around this pool will be occupied and the tide pool will be populated with many kids of all ages.
It's a really cool, and rather safe water feature for families near the Atlantic Ocean, the Inlet Water flow, and the Indian River Lagoon water. There's a floating barrier/net in the opening there on the left where water from the inlet can flow in and out of the tide pool.
To my back while taking this photo, where the fast moving waters of the Inlet are meeting the Atlantic Ocean waters, frankly, is almost always dotted with sharks. That's bound to happen in such fish-rich waters where two bodies of water meet.
But, this tide pool is pretty much a gentle, safe, place for the whole family to get nasty sunburns and otherwise have a great day on the water in a beautiful place in Florida.
(The panorama here was taken while out with my oldest daughter and our cameras, on Saturday, July  7, 2018.  We paid a dear price to watch the sunrise; we were seriously eaten up by no-see-ums."

Sebastian Inlet Sunrise, Sat. July 7th, 2018

Fujifilm XT-20, Fuji 18-135mm lens at 18mm, f/20, 1/200sec., ISO 200

Fujifilm XT-20, Fuji 18-135mm lens at 135mm, f/20, 1/1000sec., ISO 200

Number One Daughter and I got up way before dawn (Saturday, July 7) and headed on a thirty five minute drive to Sebastian Inlet State Park. (That "way before dawn" part is not an easy task for two life-long night owls, believe me.)
We will both be in misery the next few days, having stood there knowingly being devoured by the legendary No-See-Ums, just in the hopes for some decent sunrise photos.
The sunrise was worth the effort though, don't you agree?
Sebastian Inlet State Park is a small park, but it's a gorgeous place.
Atlantic Ocean, stone jettys, the fast-flowing inlet, the Indian River Lagoon.  Many varied things to see and photograph.
And, if you like birds, most tropical migratory birds are here in abundance.  This is probably the best fishing location I have ever seen in my entire life. The birds are intelligent enough to know humans won't kill them here, and will let you get close, hoping have fish and that you'll have some nice fish guts to hand them.
Birds in most wildlife preserves are skittish around humans, but if you can find a place like this where lots of people fish, you can see all the desired exotic birds you want, and they'll let you get close enough for great photos .