Totally awesome

When I and my neighbours Steve and Yve first ventured into the storm to check out the tremendous waves, a hugh gust of wind snapped a giant branch off a tree just in front of us and, like frightened, yet excited kids, we scurried back into the wood fired warm house until the wind abated somewhat (and played a second game of Scrabble).

Presenting a sense of scale to the size of a wave is difficult. In the top image, to photograph a wave breaking from where I am standing, and, seeing the length of this wave extend all the way over to Auk Point (a kilometer and a half or one mile), only happens about once a year. The distance it then has to travel, rolling and frothing to the beach, is well over half a kilometer. At this distance from the beach, local knowledge has this wave peaking at 10 meters/33 feet. Such power. Such magnificence.

Gosh, it was windy. And cold. The combined noise of the breaking surf and gale force winds made us feel as though we were in some hugh orchestra pit with all the musicians gone mad. Standing in the open for any length of time was impossible. By the end of our hammered walk our cheeks were cheery red and we relished having witnessed something few people get to experience. A real reward for living where we do at Roaring Beach looking out into Storm Bay and the Southern Ocean.

At one delirious moment while sheltering behind a wind breaking she-oak observing the increasingly larger swells thunder in, I exclaimed: “Look! Look at those fuckers!”

Neighbour Steve replied: “For Peter, who never swears, to say ‘fuck’, must mean that these really are big waves.”

We looked and laughed in astonishment at the immensity being hurled at us, through us.

During moments like this, the world takes over. Whatever personal emotions or intellectual discourses I had carried into this meeting with wind, water and sleet was soon blown away. Nothing remained but pure astonished exhilaration.

Mysteries, Yes

Truly, we live with mysteries too marvelous
to be understood.

How grass can be nourishing in the
  mouths of the lambs.
How rivers and stones are forever
in allegiance with gravity
while we ourselves dream of rising.
How two hands touch and the bonds will
never be broken.
How people come, from delight or the 
scars of damage,
to the comfort of a poem.

Let me keep my distance, always, from those
who think they have the answers.

Let me keep company always, with those who say
“Look!” and laugh in astonishment,
and bow their heads.

Mary Oliver

The next morning I awoke to the sun shining through the still whistling wind. Another great day, in which to observe with reverence the magic of living at Windgrove, was beginning.