Ship Waves
Today I'm back home. Set out yesterday from Tanjung Perak Port, Surabaya and arrived after dusk at Sukarno-Hatta Port, Makassar.
A couple of hours before entering Makassar waters, I got carried away watching at the sea waves from up on Dek 6, right wing. I was stunned at the realization that out here in the middle of nowhere, all waves looked the same. A piece of wave here. A chunk of wave there. Cuts of waves in between. Dark blue. Deep dark. I used to read from some source that the blue came from the filtered sun rays. (Did it? Does it apply only when seen from afar, and when up close it's a whole different explanation?). On the lined tops of the waves there emerged tiny foams. They were the troops of white dots that appeared and vanished in an instant.
A memory flashed through me of a book called "Cartoon Guide - Environment" which I read recently. Here on the sea there was not much oxygen, was it? There were not much of trees to help produce it -- actually, there were none. Under the surface there should be oxygen. Question was, which has it more?
The wind was in a high velocity. How high, I wondered. Maybe 80mph? At first it came sweeping and thundering from the left hull, but then I started to feel it on my right ear. Then the howling was all over my head. A song was interrupted halfway on my earphones when the wind was no longer over my head; it was inside my head, fighting over occupation against Bob Dylan's protests.
At the back of those flashing thoughts amidst the howling wind, there vaguely came a vision of Samalona beach at one sundown. A liner ship had just passed by close to the off-sea tower border. (And it was so close you could see some faces of the passengers who waved at you). Usually, not long after the ship passed by, even as the bow was still within sight, people at the beach were back at their leisure. Mostly were swimming. Or playing.
Then it came. The ship's wave.
Like one single bulk of wave with the top edge a white shawl spreading along the length of the beach, it came rolling and on top of everything, hurriedly to greet old acquaintance Samalona.
Halfway, the height came down to a bit above your chest. Almost always we just then noticed it. Then we started shouting at people in the water or on small canoes, if any. It should be a merry sight, like the one you see in Ciputra Waterpark, Surabaya. There were also some smaller afterwaves. Maybe you could use it for mini-surfing?
For those who had their heads above water before it came splashing down, it was a pleasant surprise. For those who were still under the water, it could be a dangerous experience with a risk of getting their head bumped on the wagon-sized corals. Thank God during my time there I never heard of such accidents. Maybe because ship waves mostly happened at around sunset, when people were not that interested to put their heads under water because there was not much to see.
I had a reason, though, to plunge down; every evening I took my bath in the sea. Really bathing, not swimming. Maybe I'll tell you about it some time.
A couple of hours before entering Makassar waters, I got carried away watching at the sea waves from up on Dek 6, right wing. I was stunned at the realization that out here in the middle of nowhere, all waves looked the same. A piece of wave here. A chunk of wave there. Cuts of waves in between. Dark blue. Deep dark. I used to read from some source that the blue came from the filtered sun rays. (Did it? Does it apply only when seen from afar, and when up close it's a whole different explanation?). On the lined tops of the waves there emerged tiny foams. They were the troops of white dots that appeared and vanished in an instant.
A memory flashed through me of a book called "Cartoon Guide - Environment" which I read recently. Here on the sea there was not much oxygen, was it? There were not much of trees to help produce it -- actually, there were none. Under the surface there should be oxygen. Question was, which has it more?
The wind was in a high velocity. How high, I wondered. Maybe 80mph? At first it came sweeping and thundering from the left hull, but then I started to feel it on my right ear. Then the howling was all over my head. A song was interrupted halfway on my earphones when the wind was no longer over my head; it was inside my head, fighting over occupation against Bob Dylan's protests.
At the back of those flashing thoughts amidst the howling wind, there vaguely came a vision of Samalona beach at one sundown. A liner ship had just passed by close to the off-sea tower border. (And it was so close you could see some faces of the passengers who waved at you). Usually, not long after the ship passed by, even as the bow was still within sight, people at the beach were back at their leisure. Mostly were swimming. Or playing.
Then it came. The ship's wave.
Like one single bulk of wave with the top edge a white shawl spreading along the length of the beach, it came rolling and on top of everything, hurriedly to greet old acquaintance Samalona.
Halfway, the height came down to a bit above your chest. Almost always we just then noticed it. Then we started shouting at people in the water or on small canoes, if any. It should be a merry sight, like the one you see in Ciputra Waterpark, Surabaya. There were also some smaller afterwaves. Maybe you could use it for mini-surfing?
For those who had their heads above water before it came splashing down, it was a pleasant surprise. For those who were still under the water, it could be a dangerous experience with a risk of getting their head bumped on the wagon-sized corals. Thank God during my time there I never heard of such accidents. Maybe because ship waves mostly happened at around sunset, when people were not that interested to put their heads under water because there was not much to see.
I had a reason, though, to plunge down; every evening I took my bath in the sea. Really bathing, not swimming. Maybe I'll tell you about it some time.
posted by Samalona at 10:50 PM
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