A Surprise Proposal on Venice Beach — and How to Plan Your Own
Nate called me a few times before the trip. He and Sophie were driving down from Ohio in June — a surprise getaway, an Airbnb, none of which she knew the real reason for. He was going to propose. He had no idea where.
We settled on Venice. Dinner at Sharky's first, then a walk out onto the fishing pier while the sun got low, then down onto the sand.
Sunset on June 15 was 8:25. I was on the beach by seven with a long lens, photographing birds. Not pretending to photograph birds. I like photographing birds. It is the best cover I have ever had, on account of not being one.
The part I didn't plan for
Then they went out onto the pier and stayed there. I watched the sun drop and started doing arithmetic on how much light was left, which is the part of this job nobody warns you about — you cannot text the groom to hurry up. I found out afterwards that the walk was deliberate: he was running the clock down so the light would be right when they got to the sand. At the time I was fairly sure we were going to miss it.
I never saw him come off the pier. The first I knew, Nate was behind me.
"Hey — would you mind taking a photo of us?"
He knew exactly who I was. He had spotted me through the restaurant window during dinner and rung me from the bathroom to make sure. And he asked anyway, because Sophie was standing right there, and it was the most natural way in the world to get her to stop, turn around and face the camera.
I said sure, I'll use my camera and email it to you.
This is that photo — the one he asked a photographer he had hired, and phoned from a bathroom to identify, to take of him and his girlfriend.
Then he got down on one knee.
She said yes. We spent another twenty minutes walking the beach afterward, both of them still a little shaky, the light still going. Some of my favorite frames of the night are from after the ring was already on.
What actually made it work
Four things, and only one of them was luck.
He ate first. Proposing before dinner means she spends the whole meal crying into a basket of grouper — and texting her mother, and her sister, and the group chat. You do not get that dinner back. Proposing after means the nerves are behind him, the light is where he wants it, and the phone calls happen on the beach, which is where they belong anyway. Sharky's is a two-minute walk from the sand, which is the entire reason I suggested it.
He built the time backwards from sunset. Not "around eight." Sunset was 8:25, so the good light started about 7:25, so dinner was booked for six. Every proposal I have photographed that felt rushed was planned forward from dinner instead of backward from the sun.
He told me the plan; I gave him the cover story. He told me where they would be walking and roughly when. I told him exactly what I would be doing and what it would look like, so that he could stop thinking about the man with the camera and think about the thing he was about to do. That is what let me be in position early, at a distance, looking like part of the scenery — because I was part of the scenery.
And then he improvised. Asking me to take their photo was not in the plan. It was better than the plan.
If you're planning one
Pick the time from the sunset, not from your reservation. In Venice and Sarasota the number moves more than people expect:
| Month | Sunset | Good light starts |
|---|---|---|
| March | 7:38 | 6:40 |
| June | 8:25 | 7:25 |
| October | 6:57 | 6:00 |
| December | 5:38 | 4:40 |
A December proposal happens before most people have finished work. A June one happens after most restaurants have started their second seating. Look up your date before you book anything else.
Tell your photographer exactly what you told her. If she thinks you are going for a walk after dinner, I need to know that, so I do not accidentally blow it by being somewhere a photographer would obviously be.
Let me be a stranger. No greeting, no eye contact, no "there he is." You can walk straight past me on that beach and not know it. Nate only found me because he went looking, through a restaurant window, on purpose.
Then plan for the twenty minutes after. Nobody thinks about this part. She has just said yes, she is going to want to call her mother, and somewhere in there is the best portrait session you will ever get for free — two people who have completely forgotten a camera exists. Leave room for it.
Where to do it around here
Venice Beach works because the pier gives you a reason to be walking, and the sand south of it is wide and usually quiet. Same logic applies at Siesta Key, Lido and Nokomis — pick somewhere with a natural reason to take a walk, and somewhere I can stand a hundred yards away without looking strange.
If you are planning something and you want help picking the spot and the time, tell me the date and I'll work it out with you. Nate and I talked it through on the phone three times before he booked anything, and it cost him nothing.
One more thing, since you're already thinking about dates. Most couples book a wedding photographer ten to fourteen months out, so the proposal and the wedding usually sit about a year apart. I photograph those around Sarasota and the Gulf Coast too, so it's worth asking early if you already know who you want.
Congratulations, Nate and Sophie.
