The waves crashed against the rocks more than 100 feet below me. Every crashing wave covered the rocky land around me in a white frothy foam which didn’t last long before being carried away. The howling gales coming off the ocean drove the spray of white water against the glass pane I was standing behind despite being so far from the ground.
In every direction I could see water, not just water but ocean. Where the white water ended 50 feet from the rocks the ocean was a light green mess of bubbles and frothy whiteness. Further out the water was a murky blue green expanse of nothing. From where I stood I could see the waves forming from a swell to a standing wall of water with a breaking white top. They rolled shoreward for more than 200 feet gaining height and being pushed by the strong wind before making their final run at the rocks.
Behind me, if I looked, the water continued on toward the mainland. The waves that didn’t crash on my rocky outcrop continued onward towards land whether they were getting bigger or not I could not tell from where I stood bit it stands to reason they were. Apart from the waves that were breaking around me it was as if I was not even there, I was barely a glitch in the path of the raging ocean.
The term gale force winds means nothing to me, winds only have to reach 40mph before they are called gale force and where I was 40mph was a light sea breeze. Where I was I barely even registered the wind until it got up to double that speed and even then it was a relief compared to the 120mph gusts that frequented the area.
The wind always seemed to come from the sea, rarely did it come from land. On a blowy day the wind pounded everything, it was like a constant drumming, a constant thumping, it made your head rattle and your ears ache. Had the wind come from the land there would have been some warmth associated with it, but alas from the ocean the winds were always cold, even in summer. Although seasons really meant nothing out here, I could have four seasons in one day and every one of them had gale force cold winds, sleeting rain and sunshine.
As I stood looking out to the ocean I could see the storm forming. It was more than a mile off shore, maybe even two, but I was watching it approach. I could not tell the speed at which it was moving I could just tell it was coming. The skies around the storm front were pitch black, the angry grey clouds ahead of the storm were thick and dark. If I listened hard I could hear the rumble of thunder ahead of the storm front but I didn’t need to look very hard to see the massive electrical storm of lighting that was coming with it. The storm was also bringing with it torrential rains, in the very near future I was going to get wet and it wasn’t going to be the foamy white froth from the crashing waves.
Because where I stood it was still daylight there was no need for illumination of any kind, from behind me the sun was still shining. It was always eerie having the blazing sun at your back and a raging storm of black and grey clouds in front of you. It was even eerier the closer the storm got, right up until that last second where the wind begins hammering and you notice the first drops of rain, then it goes dark. By the time it gets to that stage no light is bright enough to penetrate the darkness, it just bounced off the blackness and goes nowhere. It’s the kind of darkness so few people ever see.
I remember the first time I saw a storm like this coming toward me my first thought had been to bolt, but I quickly realised I had no where to go. My only option for getting off my small rocky mountain was by boat and no boat was built for the kind of water that surrounded my rock in a storm. That was eleven years ago and I have barely left this place since, it really is quite exquisite.