IVE HAD A LOVE AFFAIR... ...a passionate and romantic interlude with the sea since... well, ever since I can remember! Long ago, as a little boy during perfect August holidays, I was never happier than when down at the beach swimming and exploring rock pools, jumping the warm summer surf and gazing longingly at passing ships as they slipped below the horizon bound for who knew what exotic lands far far away. Little wonder then that I made my career at sea. First as a steward aboard majestic ocean liners, circumnavigating the globe countless times in pursuit of nautical adventure and excitement. Then, in later years I took my passion of mistress Le Mere to the thrilling world of yachting and racing - to a world that demanded understanding and respect so as to harness the wind and the tides on cutting edge craft designed for speed and endurance while sailing our Earths greatest oceans. Alas that has all passed me by - at least for the moment... but make no mistake, never - not once - do I stop for a minute thinking about my mistress and of a life fulfilled upon the ocean waves. Take for instance today, a chilly November Sunday, still of wind and by all reason a day of flat and calm seas, but my bones told me a swell, mighty and thunderous would surge from the west, travelling thrice 500 miles across the empty Atlantic only to crash and dash upon the hard granite rocks of Cornwalls rugged north coast. And disappointed I was not. Nature gives us the best concerts of all and today she was not to be ignored. As I sat upon the high cliffs of Trebarwith Strand, ancient Tintagel, legendary home of King Arthur to my north and the picture perfect tranquility of Port Issac to my rear, I beheld the seas unleashed in all their glory. Upon those sentinel rocks crashed the power and might of an ocean, huge breakers pounding the shore with the pent up fury of titans. I witnessed, huddled up on my makeshift eerie high above the spectacle, the perfect curve of the waves as the depth beneath them rapidly dropped and the energy of a thousand miles took its toll. I counted, as I had been taught long ago, to count the sets of seven, each wave growing until the mightieth number seven screamed its presence upon the unyielding rocks below. And it was then, sitting and shivering high above that raw and untamed display of nature, it was only then, after a lifetime of work and study upon the oceans, that the truth suddenly dawned on me... November is far too cold to be sitting around outside watching bloody waves!
Posted on: Mon, 18 Nov 2013 01:27:55 +0000
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