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City Dad
07-12-2012, 10:39 AM
My daughter and I are standing on the beach.

“Dad” she asks “where do the waves come from?”

I point at the horizon and tell here that the wind and storms generate energy, energy that travels to the shore in the form of waves.

“But what makes them waves?” she asks.

I’m holding a fishing rod and I let out a length of line. “See, the ocean… the surface of the water… is like this line. Now, if there is not force acting on it, it just lays there. See?”

My daughter digs here toe into the sand and does a quarter pirouette “Uh, hu.”

“When there is a force, or energy applied” I continue and shake the fishing rod “it produces waves like this. See?”

My daughter is poking at sand crabs with a piece of driftwood. “Uh, hm.” She throws the stick into the water. “Dad, what happens to waves when they die?”

I start to say “Nothing...” but catch myself. “They go back to the ocean.”

“I want to cast. Can I cast?” Kelly asks and takes the rod from my hand.

“Wait for this set to go by.” I tell her. “Be patient.”

She lets two waves go by and flips the bait into the flat water behind them. The ocean is calm today. The breakers are small and there isn’t much of a swell. In the surf zone, sand swirls in clouds along the green edge of deeper water and white foam dissolves to reveal a glittering, clean bottom flecked with shards of mussel shells and the odd carapace of a devoured arthropod, mute testimony to the invisible drama that circles our feet.

“Dad! I think I’m getting a bite!” My daughter is cranking her reel furiously. I can see that the lead sinker at the end of her line is ploughing along the bottom, sending erratic vibrations through the rod.

“Okay.” I say “Take your time. Bring it in nice and smooth. Let’s see what’s going on down there.”

We both watch as her bait emerges intact. “Aw. I thought I had one” she murmurs.

I tell here “You’re gonna get one. Toss it back out there.”

We continue down the beach, casting out, reeling in, feeling our way across the bottom with hook and line. Though conditions seem perfect, the ocean – at least the portion of it we can reach with our limited means – seems devoid of fish.

“Where do the fish go?” Kelly wonders as I am wondering the same thing.

I gaze out at the depths as if I have a clue “It depends what’s happening in the ocean. Sometimes they are shallow, sometimes they go out deeper. They’re probably out deeper now. It was a full moon last night and chances are they fed all night long and now they’re just hanging in deep water until sundown.” I have no idea if that is really the case, but it makes as much sense as anything else.

“Why don’t the waves wash the fish in close?” she asks.

“Well” I begin “out there, in the deep water, the action of the waves isn’t as strong – or it can’t be felt as strongly - not like we can feel it up here. Out further the energy of the waves isn’t as concentrated. But by the time the waves get to us - up here - that energy is compressed, so… we can feel them and see them - or our perspective, up here, allows us to see what’s beneath the surface… or what’s causing the waves… the power behind them… at least some of it. Does that… make sense?”

“Mmhm.” Kelly nods her head and pitches another cast into the wash. “Fish probably don’t even understand what waves are.”

I agree “Probably not” and imagine silver fish circling in the undulating half-light beneath the surface, wide, unblinking eyes staring dumbly at the darkening fathoms. “Most people don’t understand waves.”

The tip of the rod my daughter is holding suddenly bends into the shape of a quivering horseshoe and the line slices through the water perpendicular to us. “Woa! Dad!” Kelly shouts

“Keep the tip up! Keep it up!” I bark.

Kelly does her best to rear back against the surging creature at the other end of her line. “Oh, my god... oh my GOD!”

“Work him in gently” I tell Kelly. “Don’t fight the waves, let him run if wants to.”
Whatever is down there isn’t large enough or strong enough to tear off line in a blistering run but it’s plenty big enough to make an impression.

Kelly stops reeling and lets the fish struggle in the outgoing wash “Dad, he’s gonna get away...”

“No he won’t. Crank him back in when this next wave come up.”

The water turns and pushes back up the beach, Kelly winds frantically as the line goes slack. “Oh... he’s gone.”

“Maybe not” I tell her “Keep reeling and back up.”

Kelly stumbles backward, reeling in line. In the skinny water a shape flashes. I grab the line and lift a fat, shiny barred surf perch from the foam. It thrashes violently, spattering us with drops of saltwater and sand.

“Yes!” My daughter chirps and bounces on her toes.

“You got ‘em” I chortle and offer a swiping high-five.

The fish gasps and stares blankly. I cradle it in one hand and remove the hook. It is an impressive specimen. At nearly ten inches long it is on the large size for this species. It’s scales iridesce in the waning light, shifting from chrome to a faint purple to olive-gray. Down it’s sides run golden bars that are it’s namesake. We both wonder at this beautiful creature plucked from it’s home in the trackless sea.

“After a minute or so I tell Kelly “Time to decide; Are you going to eat this one or let it go.”

Kelly looks at the fish for another moment, tracing her finger down it’s glittering flank “Aw, he’s so pretty” she says. “I think we should let him go.”

I nod “Me too” and offer up the perch. “Do you want to do the honors?”

“Okay” Kelly puts her hands around the fish, it erupts into a writhing fit and flops onto the sand, flapping wildly in a film of water. Kelly yelps.

“Just scoop him up” I tell her “get him in that deeper water.”

Kelly hunches over her fish and nudges it toward the surf. A wave rises and she is instantly up to her knees. The fish rights itself and rockets back to the safety of the depths from whence it came. My daughter turns to me with a look of surprise and delight. “That was awesome.”

“Yeah” I agree “awesome.”

Behind us rises the entire continent of North America, it’s Western edge cut and abraded by the ceaseless action of water. Jagged draws extend from the beach to the top of the bluff, shadows cast by the timeless procession of waves ending their lives upon the rocks and sand and returning to the vastness of the body that formed them. We straddle the nexus of ocean and land and wonder at mysteries to large to comprehend.

“Dad,” my daughter asks “why are there waves?”

“Well,” I sigh and momentarily consider our situation, the setting sun and advancing dusk “I dunno, Kel. I’m just glad there are.”

Kelly says nothing and looks out at the horizon, I imagine she is answering the question for herself. “Dad” she finally says “I feel like I’m still standing in the water.”

I tell her “That happens sometimes when you’ve been in the ocean for a while, you feel a bobbing sensation, like you’re floating in the waves.”

“Sometimes I feel like this... when I have dreams that I’m swimming.” she says.

“Me too” I tell her, tracing in my mind the memories of dreams and the ocean like contours on a map. “Me too.”

The sun slips beneath the horizon, appearing to be swallowed by the sea. Twilight begins to settle over the Pacific and we decide that it’s time to head back to the car and home. We walk down the beach, I carry the rod as Kelly picks at bits of shell, flotsam and jetsam and kelp. My daughter and I follow ancient shadows to the top of the bluff and look out one last time over the darkening Mother of Waters before we too are borne by currents unto other shores.

Wingnut
07-12-2012, 10:49 AM
Awesome... thanks for bringing my first smile of the day Tim. :Big Grin:

But there's no mention of Big Foot in this wonderful story... :LOL:

Can't wait to see you and the family at the Hunting Giants 4 Surf Fishing Event. :Secret:

fishandhunt
07-12-2012, 10:54 AM
Priceless moments City Dad!!!!!!!! Congrats Kelly on her catch...

bones
07-12-2012, 07:36 PM
Heartwarming to say the least.

Thanks Tim!

We all know who the real perch slayer is on the beach. Many of us have seen her in action!

Keep up the great work pops!

iLLest
07-12-2012, 11:53 PM
What a beautiful moment to have shared with Kelly...
thanks for posting. :Cool:

fish_sauce
07-13-2012, 08:46 AM
Beautifully written Tim,

Last year, half way around the world, i found myself on a small secluded beach, trying to explain the same phenomenon to a young orphan boy who have befriended me during my stay there. It is amazing how such simple questions could lead you to an almost-existential state-of-insight, regardless of whether she was aware of it or not.

Thank you for sharing!

Andrew

LunkerLover
07-13-2012, 12:28 PM
C.D.:
Beautifully written! I am a sixth grade elementary school teacher and WISH daily that my students would put that much energy into their writing. Your sentence structure, grammar, etc. deserves a ROA!