In addition to being a toucher, I'm also a fossicker.
I first learned the term "fossicking" on Cactus Beach in South Australia. I was stooped over a rocky section of the sand, raking my hand over the stones to find the brightly colored shells mixed within. "You like fossicking, hay?" a gentleman called to me. "Um... Maybe?" I replied. He explained that fossicking means rummaging or searching, and stems from a Cornish term used to describe the painstaking work of Australian gold prospectors in the early 20th century. (Random facts. Gotta love 'em.)
I fossick for things on the ground with great enthusiasm. On the beach, I'll tell Hobbs I'm going to look for shells and wander along the water transfixed, completely losing track of both time and distance. I'll collect the extra special ones in my hand, my pockets or my hat, and take pictures of the ones that are better left behind.
When Rick, San Pancho's unofficial Gringo mayor, suggested Punta Burros as a good surfing beach, he gently warned me, "It's kinda rocky, so it's not great for walking." Au contraire, Rick! I slipped on my shoes and spent a good 90 minutes gazing at the rainbow of rocks on the shore, collecting some of the smaller, brighter ones for my own collection and taking pictures of the rest.
You may be thinking to yourself, "Wow. Rocks. You've got a lot of time to kill." But before you dismiss them as, well, rocks, I urge you to take a second look. Check out the colors, the shapes, the patterns, the textures. It's a fascinating, brightly colored world that's seen thousands of years and thousands of miles of waves, sun and tumbling. It's captivating, right? Here's what I caught of that world behind the lens.