Crashing

Drove down to the beach yesterday afternoon – to watch the surf. The waves were so high that they were crashing over the sea wall. Huge breakers crashing, the entire ocean appeared to be a-foaming. Normally you see at least some blue water, even on a choppy day … but yesterday, the entire ocean seemed to be white. Then a wave would rise up, slate-grey, thick, and crash into white foam, then another wave, then another wave, there was no let up. The waves had to be 20 feet high – crashing far out and then barreling in and smashing up and over the sea wall. Also the wind was so high that it picked the foam up off the top of these waves and catapulted it through the air. And so the windy air was filled wtih swirling bits of white – sea-foam -only it looked like a ticker-tape parade. “What is all that white stuff in the air???” It was the foam off the crashing waves. The ocean – a massive heaving crashing force. The boom of the wave impact against the wall – getting sprayed with water – over and over … Towers of spray, like spume shooting out of a whale. I wasn’t the only person who chose to go down to the sea wall yesterday. There were tons of people down there, either parked in their cars, or standing right out against the wall, looking at the storm. The wind was intense. The sky was grey and dramatic – it was like you could almost picture the sweeping curve of the entire storm as if you were looking at a satellite picture, only from below. You could sense the longness of the arms of the storm, the scope of it. The noise of the waves and the wind and the crashing was so loud that people had to shout to be heard. The ocean was coming across to me as a living organism, bubbling, boiling over, heaving beneath that crashing white foam. I love the ocean in all its moods, but I love it in its stormy mood the best.

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9 Responses to Crashing

  1. jean says:

    An ocean like that helps me get things in perspective. Like, “Okay, I get it now. My problems are pretty insignificant and fixable.” Does that statement make any sense whatsoever? I can’t seem to find the words for what I’m trying to say… Great description, Sheil. Everyone else, if you didn’t see the ocean yesterday don’t worry because Sheila just created it perfectly with words. So now you’ve seen it, too.

  2. GNug says:

    Hmmm, I’ve been to various beaches hundreds of times growing up, on sunny and overcast days, but I don’t ever remember going during a storm. The last time at the beach was a day of surfing, a mad dash to escape a storm, and flooding. I never ever thought of sticking around to view the magnificentness of nature, as you just described. I guess I’ll stick around the next time.
    You mean to tell me storms attract you to beaches? Do you do this often? And just to completely this image of yesterday, were you exposed to the rain and cold, completely soaked as you saw and felt? (hehehe, I know it’s unlikely, but I just pictured you in that state of rapture)

  3. Steve on the mountain says:

    Your description instantly brought to mind Virginia Woolf’s really cool novel ‘The Waves'(each section opens with a description of the sea as the day moves on). Published in 1931, a lot of folk think it’s her best. When it comes to describing nature, she’s up there pretty high among the elite. I think she would have read your storm post with pleasure.

  4. JFH says:

    ’tis a fine line between enjoying observing a storm at the beach and regretting that you are located so close to the beach… This week was one of those that it would have been fun ‘cus it fell on the correct side of the line. Wanted to go to the beach house in Charleston this week, wife vetoed it… Some stupid reason like “I’m not letting my 4 and 7 year old children go to a barrier island just because YOU think they need to experience a severe tropical storm / CAT 1 hurricane as a “growth” experience!”

  5. alli says:

    never having seen the ocean, i can’t really picture what you mean. but you describe it so beautifully and clearly that i can almost get it. :) way to show instead of tell.

  6. Jon F says:

    Awesome!!! Man, I miss the ocean. I grew up on the Jersey Shore. I miss working at a beach club and having it clear out when the storms rolled in. Sigh….

    Where were you? Sea Bright??? My bro lives in Red Bank, so that’s sort of my new stomping ground!

    I’ll be happy to share some sea-stories from my USCG time in Alaska with you when I roll through North Jersey in late Nov/early Dec!

  7. red says:

    Jon – I’m in Rhode Island, not Jersey. But yeah – love storms. Even scary ones.

  8. Jon F. says:

    You mean bennies sometimes go *north?*

    ::tilts head quizically::

  9. red says:

    I had to look up what a bennie is (ha!!) and based on THAT definition I don’t think I am a bennie. I’m a Rhode Islander, born and bred. To me, there is only one beach in the world – and that is the RI coast. When I say “the beach” I mean the beach at “home” – and when I say “home” I usually mean Rhode Island.

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