Most of us only ever experience the sea from a point of relative safety – from the cliffs, the beach or the breakwater. The sea is something ‘out there,’ something we can get away from if we want to. It’s like seeing a dangerous animal behind the bars of a cage. Even those who go on cruises are in well-stabilised ships that are many times bigger than a frigate, and the smaller ferries stay in port when the wind gets up to storm force.
It’s different when the sea is all around you with no land in sight, when the walls of water tower above the puny vessel, when you know that one caprice of nature could swamp the ship and send you to the bottom in less time than it takes to launch the lifeboats. That’s when you begin to get a glimpse of its power.
But it’s almost like trying to imagine the size of the universe. The human brain simply doesn’t know anything that big, and so it can’t go that far. On those couple of days in the middle of the North Atlantic, I stood and watched the sea many times. I stretched my mind as far as I could to try and comprehend the enormity of its power. I only got as far as feeling bewildered.
6 comments:
The sea sends shudders down my spine, cold, terrifying and awe inspiring.
So what were you doing in the North Atlantic?
Supposedly learning to be a naval officer. Pfff... Far too much control!
Oddly enough, though, I felt completely at home out there on the wild ocean. The real danger came when we had to hang over the side painting the ship on a placid sea with icebergs drifting past. We were told it wasn't a very good idea to fall off the paint stage. No H&S obsessions in those days!
What a varied life you've led, you salty seadog! Now I'm starting to imagine you sat on the top of a large iceberg, paintbrush in hand drifting off to the North Pole!
Wasn't that Frankenstein's monster?
I can no longer hear 'salty seadog' without seeing Peter Sellers with his Swedish accent and blow-up parrot.
I had no idea that you had a nautical past! You know my love for these things. I love the sea and seafaring, in particular stories and folklore dealing with it, but I also have great respect for it. It's not only a source of unfathomable and unpredictable power, but the greatest source of life. My dad has always loved those things as well, and seems to gravitate towards fisherman and the like around town. I've heard terrible stories of white squalls on our lakes out here. Supposedly they don't happen too often at sea, but they're frequent on Lake Erie and the other great lakes for some reason.
Someone told me that crashing waves release ions into the air which calm us.
As much as I love sailing and being out on the lake, I'll admit I prefer to watch the beast of the sea from a safe spot, and leave the tale-making up to braver souls. Besides, my favourite is watching the waves crash against cliffs and rocks-you can't watch that from out in the middle of the Atlantic!
Not exactly a nautical past, Kaetlyn, it was a short stint. Odd that the only thing I liked about it was being at sea - and the wilder the better.
As for the life comment, couldn't agree more. I thought about that when I was writing the post. Amazing that something that looks like a just a load of water contains more life than is present on land. Or so they tell us. And I've heard that waterfalls, and all fast-running water, release those ions, too.
No you can't watch the waves crashing against the rocks, but you can get absolutely bloody soaked - and cold - by the waves crashing against the bow!
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