Like a flower, breakers bloom at ‘Kwaaiwater’ in Hermanus, South Africa
A path, tight-rope narrow hug the cliffs. Sea grass weave between my bare toes as I shuffle forward. A shear plunge, inches to the right, trying to tug me over the edge. Fear bloom.
Wind rises off the water. Skipping and skimming sea spray into the air. Breaking waves slam into stark cliff face. A cruel sea. Hostile. Spiteful.
I’m standing on a ledge. A cauldron of angry grey water below me. And all I can think of is…I wish I was out there somewhere. On my boat in this washing machine like sea. Fighting for survival. Against my own demons. Breaking apart the layers of emotion that smother like rings on a tree. Blown aside in the storm.
The beauty of a swell blooming up over menacing rocks. Dirty white foam flying in all directions.
Bitter wind attack me from all sides. My whole being shrank inwards.
A lone gull hung in the air.
The haunting ocean. So majestic. I can feel my heart-break.
I, who grew up inland. Thousands off miles from the ocean. My only contact with the ocean was during our annual summer holiday trips to the seaside. The ocean a tranquil lake during those few weeks. Sun, children’s laughter, smells of suntan lotion and wood smoke. Colorful beach umbrellas and tanned bodies on fluffy towels.
Maybe the ocean was always in my blood. A part of me that I didn’t know existed. Until a few years ago.
I remember the first time I stood on the bow of a bucking yacht in a storm much the same as this one. Cold. Wet. Scared. Yet elated. Alive.
It’s moments like this when I peel back the hard shell around my emotions and push aside tangles of seaweed to uncover a world beyond words.
‘Kwaaiwater’ (Angry Waters) in Hermanus, South Africa.
A late post for FiveMinuteFriday where the prompt word was: BLOOM