It's winter in Hawaii, and massive surf hammers Oahu's north shore. At Waimea Bay the muscular shore-break waves, as thick as they are tall, send concussions across the beach, tickling sunbathers' bellies. While dozens of long-lens photographers shoot from safe dry-land perches, Clark Little wades into the water to make his living and find his peace. Braving currents and rolling boulders and the risk of a broken neck, he positions himself and his Nikon in the surf's heaving maw so others can see what he's seen for decades.

Little, 41, acquired his first good camera only three years ago, after his wife, Sandy, suggested they buy a scenic wave photo for their house. Clark scoffed, saying he'd get the shot himself. After all, he'd been surfing the north shore for 30 years, and still held a place in local lore for his mindless antics of the 1990s, when he'd made repeated death-defying attempts to ride Waimea's thumping no-hope shore break. Sure, he had zero experience as a photographer, but few people had spent as much time getting their butts kicked by such waves.

NEAR KAENA POINT, OAHU
"Early morning. The sun's not up yet. I remember this wave because the tube was so perfect. This one you could surf."

First he bought a "cheesy" point-and-shoot camera and a housing to keep it dry. Intrigued by the out-of-focus results, he soon invested $4,000 in professional-grade gear. Two years later, he quit his supervisory job at a botanical garden to become a full-time wave photographer.

"I couldn't be more appreciative," Little says of his midlife career change. "I get chicken skin every day."

KEIKI BEACH, OAHU
"Sometimes I just stay near shore and twirl around in the whitewater like a little kid."

Today he sells more than 150 prints a month through galleries and his Web site, and last year one of his photos ended up in the hands of a rising star in the world of recreational bodysurfing: Barack Obama.

"Everyone thinks I'm a nut, out there rolling around in the sand for hours every day," Little says. "But it's never redundant. The tide gets lower, the backwash hits differently, there are different clouds in the sky. I feel like I belong there--like I'm a fish or a dolphin. I don't care if the surf's 3 feet or 15 feet, I just love being out there, with or without a camera. And I hope that people feel some of the same feelings when they look at the photos."