You Had to Be There

Over the Surf, 2010

I’m sorry. There’s just no way to describe the swell of the waves under your feet when you take a picture like this.

They build far off shore. Maybe from a storm hundreds of miles away. Combined with the wind, they press north and then east until they hit the shallower coastal shelf. As they approach the shore they rise up in great rollers.

You can see them coming. Long swells than run north and south as far as you can see, cutting deep grooves in the ocean. They come ashore in lines. One, two, three in a row. As a child I was told they came in series of seven. You saw one and you knew to count to seven before getting in position to ride the next big one in. You didn’t waste your time on the ones in between.

Yesterday I just stood on the old wooden fishing pier and felt the air come up between the slats of the deck as the waves built underneath, gently pushing the pilings to and fro as they made their way to shore.

You had to be there.