Sitting alone on my perch as the morning sun fights to break over the distant horizon, the inky blackness is gradually and slowly illuminated.
The first promise of a new morning had begun some time ago; it appeared that far away a world was burning, somewhere just out there, beyond the line of sight an atlantean civilisation was aflame. The destruction was absolute and the inferno was throwing the glow heaven ward in a betrayal of the catastrophe unfolding within it’s walls.
Soon the crown of the arc was visible, first red, then orange and slowly it rose from yellow to blinding light. Before even the full ball was visible the warmth came charging over the waves like an attacking cavalry, dispelling darkness and cold in one decisive gallop.
Now the ocean was fully visible.
No more obscured by the night or by the coming of the day, the sun had risen enough that it no longer dominated the unbroken panorama. What does it say about us that we speak in such terms? The sun no more rises than it sets; it is our home that does the moving and yet we have made ourselves the centre of the universe with the great life-giver being subservient to our needs.
My relationship with this vast expanse has been long and varied; until we moved to a coastal town when I was seven, my only water memories are of inland rivers. I know for a fact we did visit beaches and there is photographic evidence, but these memories seem to be irretrievably lost to me. Our town had a shingle and stone beach; this was satisfying for a stone thrower like myself but very disappointing when the warmer weather arrived. Trying to walk into the sea over rounded stones was not an easy or enjoyable prospect. Later we moved to town with the perfect beach; miles of golden sand and amazing dunes, it was perfect.
Any thought of a career at sea was abruptly quashed on a short trip out aboard a converted lifeboat which belonged to an uncle of my friend. I watched in silent horror as the coastline steadily retreated while we helplessly bobbed outwards waiting for an indication that the motor was not actually dead. Add to this a colourful fishing trip on a stormy sea which left me empty of lunch but laden with fish, from then onwards sailor/fisherman was off the career list.
I think the allure of the sea is a purely romantic one for me. I may one day go cruising down the Caribbean islands, but I still prefer to fly for now. The sea intrigues me; that there can be areas of our oceans which remain unseen and that they are home to creatures that have never been discovered is magical. That a container ship can simply vanish beneath the waves during a storm and sit perfectly intact on the sea bed like some toy in a formaldehyde jar, is still a source of wonder.
How much of the Inca and Mayan gold lies in quietude with the sailors who so mercilessly wrenched it from its owners in the vain hope of recognition from a king? Just feet from the waters edge there are all kinds of hidden food sources and I have enjoyed many of them in the past. These unfathomable depths are rich, and as long as there are men there will be boats to go seeking for them.
For those who don’t, there are benches.
Along almost every coastline you will find places to sit and look out to sea. In fishing villages you find old fishermen on their daily walk looking wistfully out to their old adversary with silent awe. The work was hard and the rewards great, but out there are those who just never came back; it was a calculated risk for all, but for some it was everything.
I don’t speak from experience today, the sea terrifies me. I have seen its destructive power and watched concrete walls succumb to water over time; but I have also had some of my best days by the sea. Like all things on this planet it is unpredictable and should be respected; it holds within a tremendous power and huge resources when we find out how to harness or catch them. But, like all else in our world, it deserves and demands our respect.
I was not actually by the sea today in person; in spirit a combination of a lifetime of memories converged in a glorious picture to lift a dreary Wednesday.