Wolfku Musing 40

The long, lazy wave
lands on the crescent shore with
a white, blissful smile

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No two days, no two hours, indeed, no two minutes of this Pacific Ocean view remain the same.

I’m not sure the Pacific Ocean is correctly named.

From what I understand, Magellan, after braving perilous and very windy seas to navigate through what we now call the Straits of Magellan, his small fleet finally rounded Cape Horn and entered a vast and unfamiliar ocean in November of 1520. By comparison to the Roaring Forties (or close to them) he had bested, this new body of water was so calm that he called it pacific, which, of course, means peaceful.

I can count the times that the Pacific Ocean off the Northern California coast has been dead calm on my left thumb. Yes, once. Once in five years has there been no breakers pounding, or at calmer times patting, the sands of shore.

In my experience, the Pacific Ocean’s temperament is simply varying degrees of not calm. Sometimes (and these are amazing) true storms rage, foam chasing, racing, cascades of water climbing the air.

This one day, I drove by the ocean in the early afternoon and the water was unusually calm, just a very wide, slowly breaking wave rolling toward the sand in a beautiful foamy smile. One slowly after the slowly-other.