Why I love the sea/water

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Ordutch1975

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I was talking to my sister and while telling her why to me the sea/water is so intoxicating. I came to the conclusion while having to explain it that I love being on the water because I am not in control. That sounds weird I know; but the point being that no matter how much we'd love to pretend we can determine our outcome the sea and waterways have their own mind, the sea will be what it is. I can't stop it or change it anymore than I can stop the earths rotation. I am a bit of a control freak, but in the water I surrender myself to the conditions and the beauty she offers me. In that moment I feel free of earthly/life's worries and stress. There is something calming about surrendering yourself to something bigger. You have to respect the awesome power and energy and feeling of life around you while on the water, work with it not against it.

Why do you love the sea / water?

Harald
 
Ordutch said:
"I am a bit of a control freak, but in the water I surrender myself to the conditions and the beauty she offers me. In that moment I feel free of earthly/life's worries and stress. There is something calming about surrendering yourself to something bigger. You have to respect the awesome power and energy and feeling of life around you while on the water, work with it not against it.
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You got it right in that last sentence, ABSOLUTLY :!: BUT you had better be in control, not of the water, but of what you and your boat do when on the water, or you might not come home.

I love being on the water, and have since I was 6 years old. I have been in it, on it, taught in and on it, lived on it and loved it for 60 years. BUT, I do respect it COMPLETELY. You can't turn your back to it for a second and think you will get away with it. The sea, the power, is always there. Oh yes, you can't control it, but you can control your interaction with it. You have to if you want to survive.

When crossing Strait of Juan de Fuca, 25 miles, most often a beam sea, I have a saying. I don't have to do the 25 miles all right this instant, I am just going the next 100 feet. I will know every wave in that 100 feet, and what it could do both to the surface and to my boat. Sometimes 100 feet is not an issue. Usually not, but when it is, remember the rule of nature --> Physics always wins.

I love the water, the fluidity in motion, and the still calm reflection. The way the light plays off the waves, and the colors; the blues from deep to steel, and the warm colors of the sunrises and sunsets. The sizes of the waves, the patterns, the sparkles and the motions. Whether it is a 30 foot roller breaking on Cape Kiwanda, or a 2 inch ripple, massaging the air under the hull on a fast plane the sounds, sights and synergy cannot be over appreciated.

The ocean may be full of life, but being on the ocean, or on the water has a way of imparting new life into you IF you love the water.

Harvey
SleepyC :moon
 
Hardee....
I agree with your piece 100%. I have always loved the water and being on it since 5 or 6 yrs old. My Dad and I built a wooden boat in our garage in Wisconsin when I was 13. It was a 12' racing run about but I caught more walleyes out of it than you can count. Had to sell it when grad. college. Went to Alaska and discovered a whole new world of ocean water. I have had boats since then, the last two C-Dorys. I live on the ocean now and my ProAngler is on the trailer in front of my house always ready to go.
I have GPS coordinates in my wallet where my father-in-law was dumped into the sea after cremation. I will be there with him one day. It is about 3 miles offshore from my house.
Have a good summer and be safe on the water.
Jack in Alaska
 
Jack - A friend of mine and I built a house in Anchor Point (2003-4) overlooking the ocean I love that coastal area. It started as a cabin but then turned into a 3000 sqr foot house with wrap around deck and 10ft garage so we could fit the alumacraft. I loved spending time there till I moved to Oregon. Unfortunetly there was no way I could survive career wise at the coast down there or I likely would have stayed.

-H
 
I love the discipline of preparedness for travel on the water, then the letting go I must do when the preparation ends and the journey begins. Beautiful but unforgiving to the ill-prepared.
 
Science says we evolved from the sea.
Is it a wonder many regard our heritage with special emotions when we are close
to it? I can imagine long ago living in the sea as a fish. I must have thought
"This must be Heaven". Still could there be more?

Thus, I submit "Heaven" by Robert Brooke:

" FISH (fly-replete, in depth of June,
Dawdling away their wat'ry noon)
Ponder deep wisdom, dark or clear,
Each secret fishy hope or fear.

Fish say, they have their Stream and Pond;
But is there anything beyond?
This life cannot be All, they swear,
But how unpleasant, if it were!

One may not doubt that, somehow, Good
Shall come of Water and of Mud;
And, sure, the reverent eye must see
A purpose in Liquidity.

We darkly know, by Faith we cry,
The future is not wholly Dry.
Mud unto mud! - Death eddies near -
Not here the appointed End, not here!

But somewhere, beyond Space and Time,
Is wetter water, slimier slime!
And there (they trust) there swimmeth One,
Who swam ere rivers were begun.

Immense, of fishy form and mind,
Squamous, omnipotent, and kind;
And under that Almighty Fin,
The littlest fish may enter in.

Oh! never fly conceals a hook,
Fish say, in the Eternal Brook,
But more than mundane weeds are there,
And mud, celestially fair;

Fat caterpillars drift around,
And Paradisal grubs are found;
Unfading moths, immortal flies,
And the worm that never dies.

And in that Heaven of all their wish,
There shall be no more land, say fish."

Aye.
 
For me it is a feeling of freedom. Lack of constraints from roads and outside pressures. Boat time is all consuming, nothing else matters until you are tied up or back on the trailer.

As the wooden guys say. Bundìn er bàtlaus mađur (Bound is boatless man) Norwegian (Viking) Expression
 
The ultimate challenge for me was the sea. I grew up in a family who loved sailing. WWII interrupted that, but we managed to sail in Alamitos Bay (Long Beach, CA) even though the bay was obstructed by a bridge, and was not all that deep then--it was one of the few places you could still sail a small boat. My parents took me sailing when I was a month old. (I took my kids sailing even earlier than that). By the time I was 15 I had decided that I wanted to do world cruising, and started perparing. Navigation, required learning celestial, boats were all most all wood, so I learned about the building and maintenance of wooden boats (Free slave labor for my dad). I knew I had to learn about weather forecasting. I read as many books about the early circumnavigators, and about boats. I sailed when ever I could on may different boats as crew. I mastered the science of racing all different types of boats. The challenge of getting that extra one hundredth of a knot of speed.

The challenge of building a boat, preparing and making long voyages across oceans. My ultimate challenges in life.

I was able to test myself (and Marie incidentally) we had all the sea could throw at us and we survived--prospered, and proved to ourselves that we could master the crossing of oceans--no one can master the sea itself. But you can prove yourself able to cope with those conditions.

I still learn about the sea (using that to mean any body of water) every time I go out. I love the serenity of night watch in mid Pacific, and the adrenalin rush of coping with hurricane force winds and huge waves in the North Atlantic. I love to lie in my bunk on Thisaway, and listen to the lap of the waves on the hull, and the gentle rain on the cabin roof.

We came from the sea, and I will go back to the sea, when my ashes are sprinkled on the waters off Catalina Island, along with Marie's some time in the future. It is our destiny.

From Sea Fever by John Masefield:
I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,
And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea's face, and a grey dawn breaking.

I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.

I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull's way and the whale's way, where the wind's like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over.
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From the First Stanza of Crossing the Bar: by Lord Alfred Tennyson:
Sunset and evening star,
And one clear call for me!
And may there be no moaning of the bar,
When I put out to sea,
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Bob, Very nicely put, and both of those poems are put to music on Capn Charlies "boating songs" CD's and I listen to them every time I am on the boat.

I wholly agree, you don't master the sea, you meet the challenge, and you had better be prepared.

Harvey
SleepyC :moon
 
After 45 years inland (actually only 30-50 miles from salt water) we have moved back onto the Puget Sound - water, tides, our ferries (and even new versions of the old mosquito fleet are returning) Naval vessels huge and small. All out our windows, and as I slowly learn to deal with the mechanics of my small boat - I feel very much at home. Health issues in our household have slowed things down.

A derelict 80 foot wooden boat sank in our marina - we have a few more of these, and all the marine activity pursuant to the recovery including about the biggest sea going crane I have ever seen and the dozens of workers supporting it all. Kept us in wonder for a week.
 
From Bob: "I love to lie in my bunk on Thisaway, and listen to the lap of the waves on the hull, and the gentle rain on the cabin roof"

Thanks that makes me smile!
 
Grew up enjoying the water (ocean) as much as possible. From a very young age. Surfed, boogie-boarded, swam, kayaked, paddled canoe, free diving/spearing, scuba diving...you name it, I did it. Used to ride my bike to Waikiki beach from home, only a couple of miles. Every opportunity I had, I spent in the Pacific. Still enjoy it. I consider it my "happy place". Period.

When my time comes, I have very specific instructions; half my ashes in Shallow Bay, Sucia Island and half at my favorite surf spot in Honolulu, China Walls. Both have beautiful sunsets and good memories.
 
It makes no difference to me where my ashes (or whatever is left) end up. I'll be dead and certainly won't be able to care one bit.
 
ssobol":1ff55heu said:
It makes no difference to me where my ashes (or whatever is left) end up. I'll be dead and certainly won't be able to care one bit.
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Some folks spend many tens of thousands of dollars on funerals, caskets, vaults, the right cemetery.

I made provisions for my remaining family to have one great party to celebrate my life---as we did for my folks, who went on their first date to Catalina on the Great White Steamer to dance at the Casino in 1931. Their ashes were combined and scattered off Ship Rock, in 2003. About 15 of us celebrated their lives. Funerals are for the living.
 
The thought of being in the ground or in a box in a wall somewhere vs the freedom of the waves, currents etc. No brainer. Plus the cost of all the B.S. involved. Nope. Not me.
 
Enjoy the sunrises and sun sets now. Enjoy the water, the tides and currents; the sounds and smells, and enjoy them with the ones you love.

That is making memories that will last several lifstimes.

Harvey
SleepyC :moon
 
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