Rough Seas Have a Very Special Charm for Me

I just love those wild and wet days when the sky unleashes it wrath!

The wind is gusting at over 50 mph, and the rain is relentless. From the shelter of my home, I look out the window, reflecting on days gone by, and once again, I am astounded by the beauty of a rough sea.

I have always been in love with the ocean and all it has to offer.

The oceans, which collectively cover over 70% of the earth, generate almost all our rainfall. Not only do they serve as a valuable resource, but they also have an aesthetic charm that is hard to equal.

The Early days

When I finished school, I wanted to become a marine biologist, but the entry qualifications were on par with those of doctors; I did not do well enough to get accepted. I always had in the back of my mind that I would do my basic Science degree and then re-apply.

As happens so often, I guess, life got in the way, and other opportunities were presented, so I didn’t ever fulfill that dream.

I especially love a rough sea.

The sheer fascination of watching even relatively small waves (2–3 meters) and their relentless crashing onto the shore again and again mesmerized by the power they represent.

This fascination started at an early age. I was only young (less than 10) when my parents took me back to England to see relatives. We were on a P&O ocean liner (the 'Oriana'). It was state-of-the-art in its day.

What a joy just to be on the water. What an adventure for a young kid!

It was my first memory of how vast the ocean was. To a pint-sized ten-year-old, it was endless. Blue as far as the eye could see, right out to the horizon. On open waters, there was nothing between me on the boat and the edge of the world except for this vast expanse called the sea.

Unlike many people, I have never been seasick, a decided advantage when crossing the ocean!

The days when the weather whipped up storms, turning the water from blue to an eerie grey-green, creating waves that tossed the boat up and down like some miniature model, were definitely the best for me.

Everyone would run for cover to the shelter of their cabins, especially those poor souls feeling seasick. Others would sit in the lounges, witnessing God’s rage from the comfort of a lounge chair with a warm drink.

Not this little duck!

For me, it was a time for a solitary adventure. I would put on my raincoat and head for the deck.

With no one else around, I found immense pleasure in grabbing a deck chair, running as hard as I could, and then jumping on the back of it to skid along the wet deck, bathed in salty spray.

I am sure if my mother knew what I was up to, my fun would have been quickly stopped. At ten years old, you do not think about consequences like sliding off into the sea; life is just for fun and exploring.

Big bowls of ice cream capped off my deck adventures because a lot of the normal competition was not in the mood for eating, let alone ice cream. I was particularly fond of pistachio; now, it is one of my least favorite flavors.

The fascination continued

As I grew older, my passion for rough weather did not diminish. The best days were the stormy ones.

In my late teens, we lived by the ocean. A walk along the beach, getting drenched by the salty spray from the ocean, mixed with the heavy rain, always felt so refreshing.

Some days, when I was feeling particularly daring, I would walk to the end of the breakwater and stand on the rocks, fully exposed to the spray generated by the waves crashing against them.

On others, I would row my little dinghy out into the harbor. I remember the wind being so strong on occasions that it nearly pushed me backward despite how hard I rowed.

I would sit and fish until I could barely feel my hands, and then I would let the wind blow me back to shore.

These days, I always ended with a hot shower and a warm, sweet cup of tea. Nothing tasted so good as that cup of tea.

Still to this day

Still, to this day, and now that I once again live on the beach, it is the days when the sea is rough and mesmerizing, that brings a certain kind of excitement.

I see keen surfers battling the elements to try and surf the big waves, and it takes me back to those memories of fishing and the breakwater.

Even now, nothing is quite as invigorating as a walk along the deserted beach with the wind howling off the Indian Ocean, driving the waves to crash onto the sandy shore.

The solitude allows your mind to drift and freely process thoughts that pass through your mind, like the scenes of a movie. There are no little dogs to worry about on these walks; they hate the rain.

This is time for just me, just me and the elements.

I do love a rough sea.

It is very cleansing — try it sometime!

Till next time, thank you for reading,

Calvin