I like to think of the ocean as the mother of all mothers. She'll cradle you to sleep, introduce you to dazzling new experiences, and impart upon you a form of wisdom which she is uniquely suited to share.
She will also smack you in the mouth for disprespecting her!
Whenever I go for a long period of time without any unplanned surprises from the ocean, I get to thinking that I've finally figured her out. As soon as that happens she will, without fail, remind me to mind my manners when in her presence.
I had planned to go kayaking in Carmel this morning, with a guy that I met playing pick-up soccer on the weekends. Uli has some open water experience but, being born and raised in Germany, is perhaps not as familiar with the Pacific ocean as I (supposedly) am.
When we arrived at Carmel beach, I took my customary five minutes to watch the waves and judge the mood of the sea. I saw that conditions were much rougher than I'd expected and yet, both stubbornly and stupidly, I decided that a surf entry was "doable". Maybe it was, but not by me.
Uli and I managed to get over (or through) the first breaking wave, but that was the extent of our success. The second one gobbled us up, chewed for a moment, and spat us out in disgust. I don't blame the sea for being disappointed with us, because we really shouldn't have been there in the first place. As part of this lesson in humility, we both lost our diving masks. I consider it a fair price though, because we were spared injury to all but our pride.
In the end, I decided to thank her for the relatively painless lesson and show that there were no hard feelings by settling for a bit of body surfing. It was cold, but nevertheless wonderful.
Lesson learned!
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