Pierce's Landing Research Paper

“Yeah, I do.” I tell him. Honest. In moments, I’m above the waves, feeling the soft swell of the water beneath the soles of my feet. Laughing at the tiny fish sucking on my toes. Jumping instead of stepping over the breaker that crashes toward us. Running across a back draw as the ocean pulls up another monstrous wave. The little girl does the same as me, only on the sand. The man with the instrument puts a flower in her hair and she kisses his cheek. I see the tattoo across his chest. A Marquesan Cross. A wave surges across the backs of my legs. “This is amazing!” I cry, elated. “How do you do

wave is a microcosm of this phenomena and the town serves as a backdrop to Jeremy Evans’ recent book “The Battle for Paradise: Surfing, Tuna, and

Kevin Pierce, former potential Olympian, experienced a traumatic brain injury (TBI) from a snowboarding accident at age seventeen. He was practicing on a twenty-foot half-pipe in Utah when his second attempt at a double cork suddenly went wrong. Pierce’s snowboard caught and sent him crashing down face-first, which led to his TBI. The first three months following the accident, Kevin spent in the hospital on the rode to recovery.

Living in the 1800s to the 1900s and so forth there were always a vast amount of land that were still in need to be filled with life of settling families. Although, the trip to get there may be long, there were a prize to come, but also a price to pay. A place to start new. A place with beautiful landscapes. A place where it may or may not turn out how it may seem.

We witness her unpredictability by standing on the shore watching the joy of the surfer as [his] ‘Muscle of arm thrust down long muscle of water;’ yet the joy is short lived as she becomes worried about the growing menace of the water when she says, ‘Turn home, the sun goes down; swimmer, turn home.’ Wright’s tone shifts and we feel her anxiety standing on the beach, imploring the surfer to come back to us as she replaces the growing swell with a ‘grey-wolf’. The personification reinforces our fear for the safety of the surfer. The ocean has become unpredictable, wild and malevolent towards the man in the water who was once powerful, now metaphorically reduced to a ‘broken toy’ against the ‘pebbles and shells.’ of the land. The surfer, once able to manoeuvre his body through the water, is now vulnerable to the raging water. Judith Wright’s appreciation and respect for the natural world is demonstrated as she serves up a warning to us mere mortals that though we may have split the atom and engineered amazing feats of ingenuity, we cannot harness or control Mother Nature. As the sea rages in Wright’s futile war between man and surf, Oodgeroo Noonuccal simmers and stews about the damage White Australia has inflicted on the land of her

I shifted on the rock as another wave hit the beach below me. I sighed and lied down on the rock; it was wet from the larger waves. There was no one coming, Mianite had lied to us. I was about to leave when I heard someone moan below me. I figured it was just Tucker or Sonja pranking me, “Go away Tucker, aren’t you two supposed to be banging each other?”

Waves are crashing, and surfers are out. Huge water giants in the distance, and they are making a strong force of ripples in the direction of the shore. Me and my family have arrived. "It's Myrtle Beach!" I said. We browse the streets for our reserved hotel. We have arrived. The Sea Breeze Hotel, a cute little hotel, too. Everyone sits in the KIA, as my father heads in to check in with the front desk. He leaves the vehicle, and enters. A large amount of time passed, especially for check-ins. Ten minutes? My dad then exits the building, as I get ready to leap out the car, stretch my back, and get luggage. But then we all notice his concerned, yet serious, look. He enters the black SUV. My mother tells us all that they misheard him on the phone, and reserved a room with two beds, instead of four or five. We browsed the city streets, past dark, looking for vacant hotels. Spotted! We find a rather expensive hotel, but at least we have a roof over our head for tonight. We check-in, and get a perfect room. We pack-up, and take our space. We all slept well, with the ocean waves crashing on shore, and the gentle sea breeze through the balcony.

ll continue throughout the building of the project. It is the job of the architect to have plans of every detail in the house and to oversee the plans being put into the construction of the project.

Bubble’s let's go explore! Let's go explore this great, clear, blue ocean that we are living in! There is so much here that we haven't gotten to see. I am tired of sleeping every night getting tangled in this vibrant coral. I want to go see what else is out here. That is where our long journey began.

Already catching the waves he began to surf. He sat upright on the board waiting for the perfect wave to form. He looked up at the bright blue sky and then looked back down and closed his eyes; he felt the movement of the water. The water slowly rumbled in a steady pace and that is when Jordan knew the ‘perfect’ wave had come. But soon the cool sound of the crisp air began to turn into the rumbles of

I was so scared. I just couldn't get in that water. I just can't get bit by those snapping turtles. I started talking to my dad about how I really wanted to wake surf. “I really want go surfing.” Joseph claimed.

She’d gone into detail regarding her surfing adventures with her friends in Malibu. Kendrick knew what surfing was. He just got little chance to see it on the Northern coasts of Scotland. There were a few hardy souls who braved the weather and waves up around Thurso. He’d heard that the power of the waves rolling in from the Pentland Firth compared with those of Hawaii; a place he hoped to visit someday. She 's an interesting young lass, she possessed a mind which was inquisitive and astute.

“Are you staring at the ocean again?” asked Normandy as he swam up beside Bert “This is starting to become a problem”. Bert sighed, a small string of bubbles rising to the surface as he did.

Plus, we were so excited to surf that we didn’t think much of it. The Dingees played through the speakers, a nineties ska band that my dad loved. Even though I didn’t know exactly what the lead singer was saying, I loved it because that’s what he always played whenever we went to the beach. The sun beamed through the clouds and down on the city as we drove over the thirty-fourth street bridge, and made its way into our eyes forcing us to put down our sun visors.

During the mid-1960s my father and his younger brother jointly inherited fifty oceanfront parcels from their father residing on the Gulf of Mexico in Fort Myers Beach, Florida, where they had lived as children. In addition to a deep fondness for the area, their father had been instrumental in several strategic developments later materializing as a boon for the local tourism, business, and economic improvement. His legacy proved remarkably insightful and painfully correct while illuminating the harsh reality of rash, irresponsible or otherwise impulsive decision-making that followed. Evidently, both brothers opted to re-title the contiguous tract of land as joint owners, ostensively avoiding surveying of the individual parcels and