The photographer lugs his waterproof suitcase full of equipment aboard the open-canopy boat and, wearing his wetsuit, sets off to get drenched with the captain and voyagers in the swollen, Disney-blue waters off Maui, all in search of the infamous wave aptly dubbed: Jaws.
Jaws is the biggest wave here in Hawaii. “The Hawaiian name is Piahi,” he said. “You can actually photograph it from a cliff, but we actually go out on a boat, and we’re right next to the wave with all the surfers around and jet skiers.”
Boating in is more dangerous, but “it’s worth it,” he said. “The bad thing is, it seems like almost every time we go someone gets seasick because it’s really choppy out there.”
Mr. Shoemaker has built a friendship with the captain, Loren, who once saw his voyagers to safety by steering the boat’s nose directly into a wave that would have overturned the vessel had it struck its flanks. Today, Loren was the catalyst for a panoramic shot of Jaws breaking to form a perfect curl that looked like a pair of, well, jaws. The maw seems about to swallow up the distant cliffs of Maui’s famous north shore.
Mr. Shoemaker called it “Tsunami.”
It’s a trick of perspective, obviously. The islands appear miniature—bite-sized if you will—as if about to be consumed. But the simile echoes the real relationship between these lonely volcanic islands smack in the middle of the Pacific Ocean and the Godzilla-sized waves that pummel them mercilessly and have for millions of years.
Winter storms south of Alaska set that ocean into motion, which builds unchecked to cross the open sea before ambushing Hawaii point blank. The group of islands known as Hawaii are giant mountains sticking up from the ocean floor, a rather stark wall where the sudden shallows force impending swells to break into surfs. Hawaii’s north shore sees the brunt of that hydro action—and became famous when surfers in the 1980s realized they could jet ski out and ride through tunnels of water.
One of the most famous to do so was Kai Lenny. “That guy is just on a different level,” Mr. Shoemaker said, adding that he photographed the surfer catching a ride down Jaws “like he’s surfing down Niagara Falls or something. It’s nuts.”
Any average surfer is “just trying to survive” on that big blue monster, but not Kai Lenny, the photographer said. “Watching him surf is like watching art.”
On that particular junket, one of Mr. Shoemaker’s all-time favorite photos was born: “Super Kai.”
One reason he prefers to include surfers in his shots is that it puts the sheer scale into proper perspective, without which it’s often misleading. “That wave is 70 feet,” he said. “You can’t quite envision that that wave is 70 feet, right? Unless there’s a little surfer in the photo.” His photograph “Wave Rider” drives home the point.
“When you get a surfer in there, that’s when you really get this sense of scale on just how giant that wave is,” he said, mentioning also that this is why he captured “Adrenaline Rush.”
But the beauty of water alone also comes to the fore in his photos. The “weird thing” about waves and water is that they may be violent, but something about them and their look calms him down. That iconic wave curl is epitomized in his photo “Blue Crush,” also one of his best sellers. “Firebird” showcases a blazing wave at sunrise lit up with amazing colors: flaming ochres, pinks, and turquoises. The thing about waves in Hawaii, he said, is they are gorgeous all times of day, in any light.
The calming effect of water contrasts the initial “pretty sketchy” boat ride out with Loren to hunt for photos of Jaws, which, the photographer added, are best captured during Hawaii’s warm winters, when northerly storms drive those ginormous waves to crash upon the most remote group of islands in the world. Once several thousand shots are safely stowed in his memory card, though, he packs his camera back into its waterproof case, and they can just relax and grab a beer while heading back to harbor.
He said, “The ride back is when you’re kind of reflecting on how awesome the day was.”
