Big Surf

Weather from the south is bringing 20-foot surf to some California beaches, 10-foot surf to others.

I went to look at it this morning.

"Oh my God!" was my first reaction.

I've never seen such big waves on the Santa Monica Beach.

Some people were in the water with boogie boards but not close to the big ones, and at 10 am no one was surfing.

Waves maybe ten feet tall towered over people standing in the water fifty feet from them.

Hundreds of people were standing on the beach watching each one roll in, occasionally saying, "Oh my!" Many people were sitting under umbrellas.

Lifeguards were running up and down the beach holding above their heads an orange floatie with handles on it. I guess that was supposed to mean, "Stay out of the deeper water." They were also talking to people who looked inexperienced and were too far out.

Yesterday a man body surfing was thrown against the rocks of a jetty in Newport Beach and was drowned.

See http://www.latimes.com/news/local/la-me-beaches25-2009jul25,0,3538892.story

Solar Eclipse in India

By leaving India on July 18, I missed the longest total solar eclipse of the century.

Many people watched it from the steps above the Ganges in Varanasi.

http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/articleshow/msid-4806910,prtpage-1.cms

Tribute to the Fallen

Every Sunday on the Santa Monica beach we see crosses placed in the sand for lives lost in Iraq---4,300 this Memorial Day weekend.

Veterans for Peace organizes this weekly tribute and protest of the needless loss of life.

Back in Santa Monica

It's good to walk the Santa Monica beach again, but the beach of nothern Sjaelland near Odde is still in my mind.

I watch pelicans circle, then plunge into the water, black against the orange sunset sky.

I look at all the seaweed washed up by recent storms.

The waves here are larger than those in Denmark--this ocean stretches to Asia. This sandy beach stretches flat and wide, while so many beaches in the world have only a foot or two of sand.

I can't see Orion at sunset any more because it's low in the sky when the sun goes down. After dark I look up and the Big Dipper is in the right place, no longer overhead. The North Star lies far to the north again, not close to vertical as it was near latitude 60.

This world: so much beauty and mystery.

What a privilege to travel around it, observe the variety of its wonders.

O YHWH, our maker, how majestic is your name in all the earth! -- Psalm 8:1

Herre, vor Herre! Hvor herligt er dit navn over hele jorden.

On the Beach in Sjaelland

We took a ferry from Aarhus to Odde in Sjaelland on a long narrow peninula and stopped the car to walk on the northern beach of a sea called Kattegat.

It was a warm, sunny day there--but brisk and windy later in Copenhagen.

On that beach were many large chunks of glassy flintstone in black and reddish brown. Material for axes and the tips of spears, I realized, and picked up several stones.

Later in the day we visited the National Museum of Denmark, where the prehistoric exhibit showed many flint tools and said the flint was found on northern beaches of Sjaelland.

Never have I seen knife-sharp flint on any other beach.

Under the North Star

This week I've been walking Danish beaches in Roskild (former capital of Denmark, originally a Viking town), Copenhagen (no beaches, just ports and canals), and Aalborg (near another old Viking town with the largest number of Viking gravestones).

After rain yesterday, the sky cleared last night and I looked up at the stars but couldn't find anything familiar.

"It's because of the full moon," I concluded, wondering what the snake-shaped stars above my head were.

Not finding Orion or anything familiar in the south, where the moon was rising, I turned to the north and saw two pairs of bright stars I didn't recognize.

Now really puzzled, I looked for the Big Dipper--and realized the snake above my head was its handle pointing directly south.

Then locating the North Star, I realized it was almost directly overhead--strange place for it to be.

I'm far north of my usual location in Los Angeles and southern Colorado--but far enough north for that star to be almost overhead? I forgot to bring a sky map with me, so I can't really get my bearings at night.

In our hotel on Aalborg's outskirts, the second floor rooms have no windows except two sky lights. At 1 am the moon shone directly in on my bed.

There was no way to close the window, so I lay there until it passed, wondering at the night sky here.

Wind and Waves

Today at sunset a strong wind blows ashore, making high surf. The newspaper says 4-6 foot in Orange County and 3 foot surf here, but the waves here dwarf people standing offshore to swim and body surf at sunset.

Pelicans like the weather, flying north along the shore in a steady stream of pairs and lone huge birds. Occasionally one torpedos into the choppy water to nab a fish.

Children run back and forth, chased by small waves.

After the sun goes down, beach patrol cars drive along the beach ordering surfers and swimmers to come in.

The moon refuses to rise, instead chasing around the bright side of the globe toward the sun.

I witness all this, and perhaps that's what we are here for: to witness.

A Long, Long Way

We're close to the spring equinox. The sun sets at 7 pm and rises just after 7 am (of course, it's really 6 pm and 6 am, but we're giving ourselves an extra hour of daylight in the evening.)

I arrive at sunset and start jogging southeast toward the Venice break-water, invisible in the dusk.

Instead of shuffling along as I usually do, I decide to step long and high like some other joggers I encounter, but this soon tires me.

Then I'm asking myself, "Why did you think it was such a good idea to jog all the way to that breakwater and back?" It's maybe 3/4 mile each way or less, but at the moment it seems

so

far

away.

Why We Need The Beach

Today I'm stuck in traffic on the 10 freeway, which reminds me of how important it is to everyone in Los Angeles to get to the beach, the mountains, a garden or a park whenever possible. It's the only thing that can keep us sane.

Sea Food

Sometimes after walking on the beach I stop at Santa Monica Seafood to buy fish for dinner. Live lobsters from Maine... cooked shrimp... filets of swordfish and salmon... crabs... cod and yellow trout... a wonder to gaze upon.

Sunset, Moonrise

A magical evening at the beach as the sun sets:

Windsurfers careen up and down the coast just beyond the breaking waves.

Seagulls float lightly on the airstream flowing ashore.

Plovers skitter on the sand and foam.

The full moon rises amidst tall buildings, just above the streetlights.

All's right with the world--or so it seems from the Santa Monica Beach.

Kayaks and Plovers

I'm tuned to the sunrise and sunset. Though the clocks have changed, I still get up as the sun rises and jog when it sets. Tonight it sets at 7 pm, however, instead of 6.

It's still windy but the adventuresome are out. Two people in kayaks paddle where the waves crash, occasionally riding one to shore without planning to.

Tiny plovers skitter near the waves, their bodies floating above legs that whirl like cartoon characters.

I stand close to the waves to take photos until one catches me and I'm wet to the ankles before I even start jogging. That's never happened before.

It's the Sabbath: nothing to do but play and rest.

Delight in YHWH, says Psalm 37:4, and you'll be given the desires of your heart.

What a command.

Okay, YHWH, I'm here delighting.

A Dark and Stormy Night

Overnight we had wind and rain, with more cold wind today, so the beach is deserted.

I don't arrive until 6:10 pm, fifteen minutes after sunset. Stiff wind points each palm's fronds directly east.

There are no footprints anywhere, just wide stretches of pristine rippled sand.

Overhead the growing moon pulls the ocean to high tide and blots out Orion.

Venus stands lower in the western sky each evening.

I jog south to Venice in the darkness and return, thinking This is the last day it will be so dark at 7 pm.

What a relief that daylight savings time will start.