The Expedition
What follows is the field journal of Robert & Mike — two explorers, one compass, and a summer on the California coast. Eight paintings, eight chapters. Turn the page to begin.
Scroll to open the journal. ↓
Field Dispatch
The Expedition Pack
Every expedition begins with a packed bag and an open question — what waits beyond the next headland?
Robert and Mike shouldered their packs and followed the coast from Malibu to the Santa Monica Mountains. The compass is waiting.
The trail awaits. ↓
Arrival in California
As recorded by R.
The wheels kissed the tarmac at LAX just past noon on a Tuesday. Robert stepped out first, then Mike, and for a long moment neither said a word. California in July was a different animal entirely — the light was thicker, the air tasted of salt and jasmine, and the horizon shimmered like a mirage. They had packed for a week. They had brought enough for a month. Between them they carried two suitcases, a duffel bag, a fishing rod, one borrowed surfboard, and a compass that Robert swore still worked. The stewardess asked if they needed help. Mike said they had been preparing for this their whole lives. Robert said they had been preparing since Tuesday.
First breath of California air. Mike says it tastes like adventure. I think it tastes like jet fuel. Either way — we are here.
— R.
The Longboard & the Taxicab
They found a cab without trouble. The driver took one look at the surfboard, one look at the two ducks, and quoted a price that was either very fair or very not. Mike rode up front and gave directions to a beach he had never been to, down a road he could not name. Robert sat in back with the windows down and his wing out the opening, watching palms and stucco and billboards drift past like a parade. The board rode in the trunk with the lid tied shut with twine the driver kept for exactly this purpose. They made it to the coast in forty minutes. The cab driver charged them double for the twine.
Cab driver charged us double for the boards. Did not even blink. Worth every cent. Mike says he knows a shortcut to the coast. He does not.
— R.
Beach Day
The beach was already full by the time they arrived. A crew of locals had claimed the best stretch of sand, boards planted upright in the warm earth like a small forest. Robert hung back, but Mike walked straight up and introduced himself. Nobody asked why two ducks were carrying a surfboard. Nobody asked anything at all. Within the hour they were all friends. The water was warm, the waves were clean, and the afternoon stretched out like it had nowhere to go. The sun was enormous and golden and nobody was in any hurry to leave.
Parking fills by 8.
Bring extra wax.
Best tacos near the pier.
Pelicans know where the bait fish are.
South swell = clean faces.
Offshore wind = glassy.
Reading the Pacific
The California coast does not give up her waves to anyone who doesn't bother to ask. Robert and Mike learned this from the locals at Malibu — you watch first, paddle second. The ocean has a language, and it is spoken in swells, wind, and tide. Learn to read it, and the coast opens like a book.
Waves arrive in groups called sets. Sit on the sand for ten minutes before paddling out. Count the waves in each set. The ocean speaks in intervals.
A south swell means clean faces at Malibu. A northwest swell favors Point Dume. Direction tells you where to go before you even leave the parking lot.
Offshore wind holds the wave open — glassy, organized. Onshore wind chops it to pieces. The best mornings are the ones where the wind is still asleep.
Low tide breaks steeper and faster. High tide is softer and slower. Rising tide often brings the cleanest waves. Robert checks the chart before breakfast.
Mike paddled out without watching. He came back in fifteen minutes. The Pacific was not impressed. — R.
Robert's First Wave
Robert paddled out alone as the sun began its slow drop. The swell came from the south — clean, organized, patient. He waited for the right one. When it came, he turned, stroked twice, and felt the board catch. For three seconds the world made sense. He stood. He actually stood. The wall of blue held him up. The shore rushed closer. And then he fell, laughing, swallowed half the Pacific, and came up grinning like he had discovered something holy.
The Day Pack
Robert's pack was a canvas rucksack older than he was — inherited from a duck named Stu who ran the rental shack near the pier. It carried everything: surf wax, a leather-bound journal, a compass that Robert swore still worked, a tide chart, and a Leatherman tool that had opened more bottles than it had fixed boards.
Mike carried a duffel with a towel, two granola bars, and a paperback he never opened. He called it "traveling light." Robert called it "traveling unprepared." Both were right. The coast asks for different things from different ducks, and the pack you choose says more about the explorer than the expedition.
← this one
Tide Chart
Robert's Pick — The Rising Hour
The tide chart is the most important piece of paper on the California coast. It tells you when the water is coming and when it is going. A rising tide often brings the cleanest waves. A falling tide exposes the tide pools. Robert checks it before breakfast. Mike checks it never. Both somehow survive.
Mike says the tide doesn't matter. Mike also got stranded on a sandbar for two hours. — R.
Lifeguard Station
↳ tap to read
Beach Safety
The California coast is generous, but it is not always gentle. Rip currents hide between the waves, the sun is stronger than it looks, and the rocks are sharper than they feel. Robert and Mike learned most of these lessons the hard way — which is to say, by nearly learning them too late. A few habits, practiced daily, will keep you upright and smiling.
If caught in a rip, do not fight it. Swim parallel to the shore until you feel the pull release, then angle in. The ocean will let you go if you stop pulling against it. Sunscreen goes on before the wetsuit. Water goes in the body before the board goes in the water. And always — always — tell someone where you are going.
PCH Pull-Offs
Point Dume Overlook
A short hike up the bluff reveals the entire Santa Monica Bay. Whales pass in winter. The view alone is worth the detour.
El Matador State Beach
Sea caves and towering rock formations. Arrive at low tide. The light at golden hour turns the stone walls amber and gold.
Topanga Canyon
Where the mountains meet the sea. The winding road drops from chaparral ridges into a quiet canyon. Park at the overlook and walk.
The best stops are the ones you didn't plan. Mike wanted to drive straight through. I made him pull over six times. He thanked me later. — R.
Hidden Beaches
The best beaches on the California coast are the ones you have to work for. El Matador sits below the cliffs, accessible only by a narrow stairway cut into the rock. Sea caves, towering stone arches, and a stretch of sand that feels like it belongs to another century. Robert and Mike arrived at low tide — the only time the caves are passable — and spent an hour exploring the rock formations before the sun dropped behind the arches and turned everything amber and gold.
Coastal Viewpoints
Where Robert & Mike watched the sun go down
Golden Hour
The sun dropped fast. One minute it was high and golden; the next it was melting into the water. They sat on the rocks and watched it go. Nobody spoke. Nobody needed to. The ocean turned to fire, then to amber, then to violet, and then it was dark. Mike said: That was worth the whole trip. Robert said: That was worth the whole year.
Tide Pool Etiquette
Watch your step. ↳ tap to read
Tide Pool Life
Step Lightly
Rocks are alive with barnacles and anemones. Walk on bare sand where possible. Every footstep leaves a mark — make it a gentle one.
Touch Gently
A sea anemone will close if you touch it. A starfish will hold on. Look first, touch gently, and never pry anything off a rock. They live there.
Leave Nothing
Take nothing but photographs. The shells, the rocks, the tiny crabs — they all belong to the tide pool. Removing them is like pulling a page from a book.
Time Your Visit
Tide pools appear at low tide and vanish at high tide. Check the chart, arrive early, and leave before the water returns. The ocean takes back what it lends. See: Tide Chart.
Mike's Technique
Mike doesn't paddle for waves. He waits for them. There's a difference, and it's the difference between a duck who surfs and a surfer who happens to be a duck. Mike reads the ocean the way some read newspapers — scanning the horizon, noting set intervals, counting the waves in each pulse, calculating which will be cleanest. Then he lets two pass. Always two. The third one, he says, is the one that's been waiting for you. It's patience dressed up as instinct, and it works.
The Explorers
Two ducks. One compass. A borrowed surfboard and a week of California sun. Robert and Mike set out to explore the Pacific coast — not as tourists passing through, but as explorers passing into. They found cliffs and tide pools, hidden beaches and mountain trails, and a sunset that changed the way they saw the world. This is their portrait, painted from life, somewhere between Malibu and the edge of the map.
— The Editors
Camp Journal
Made camp above the tide line. Fire by seven. Stars by eight. The Milky Way looks different from here — brighter, closer, like you could reach up and grab a handful.
Mike tried to toast a marshmallow. Held it too close to the flame. It caught fire. He blew it out, tried again, and it caught fire a second time. He looked at me. I took the stick.
My marshmallow caught fire too.
Gave up on marshmallows. Cooked the trout we caught this morning over the open coals — nothing but salt and lemon. Mike said it was the best meal of his life. I did not argue.
Dawn patrol. The water is glass. Mike is already out there. He let two waves pass. The third one, he says, is the one that was waiting for him.
— R.
Perfect ending.
Wish you were here. Mike is the worst. Also the best. Also the worst. — R.
— Robert
The Tiki Incident
A cautionary tale
On the last morning, Mike swore he had seen something in the jungle above the beach. Something old. Something carved. Something possibly cursed. Robert, being Robert, went to look. He pushed through the foliage, heart pounding, and found — a tiki. A wooden one. The kind sold at souvenir shops for three dollars. Mike had spotted it the day before and waited twenty-four hours for the right moment. The laughter that followed echoed through the trees and could be heard all the way back at the beach. Robert did not speak to Mike for approximately eleven minutes. When he finally did, he said: That was actually pretty good. Mike beamed. They packed up camp and headed home.
It was a carving. A CARVING. Sold at the gift shop for three dollars. Mike has not stopped laughing. I am not speaking to him. ... Okay. It was funny.
— R.
The Collection
Three Ways to Carry the Journey
Choose the chapter that fits your journey—from one complete destination collection to the full three-destination expedition.
The Los Angeles Expedition
The complete Los Angeles collection—an illustrated journey through arrival, city stories, beaches, surf culture, humor, and Pacific adventure.
Explore the LA Expedition
Example shown: Japan + Los Angeles. Choose any two destinations.
Build Your Explorer’s Bundle
Choose any two complete destination collections from Japan, Los Angeles, and Hawaii.
Build Your Bundle
The Complete Journey
Japan, Los Angeles, and Hawaii gathered into one complete illustrated expedition.
Explore the Complete JourneyOriginal artwork. Printed in limited quantities. Packed by hand and shipped with care.