driftology

Where does the ocean take you?

I've sent messages in bottles. 2 today, my first two. One note is nestled inside a California pinot grigio bottle, another inside an obscure, cheap (but empty, save for the letter) Spanish red. Italy, California. It's no wonder that wine grapes are grown in coastal parts of continents. All of the best things that I can imagine in this world need the sea's influence to thrive, or so it seems.

It is an act of faith, a curiosity liberated, tossing a bottled note into the ocean. Where do they go? Does anyone respond to these things? If a Japanese glass float can cross the pacific and beach itself on our rocky shores, then certainly there is hope for a wine bottle with a nicely fitted cork, no?

In my quest for ancient modes of communication, I can't believe I haven't stumbled upon this idea before. I've always wanted to find one, but have never sent a message tucked inside of a bottle. I still send plenty of letters over land thanks to the wonders of the postal service, and I make phone calls from my land line, but the ocean's current surely must be the slowest messenger I've used yet.

In other news:

After paddling the Canadian waters around Vancouver Island in a sea kayak I am home once again in Newport Oregon. It is grey and grey here. The ocean is incredibly warm, and tonight, the south winds finally let up for a spell and we were blessed with metalic, perfect waves for the first time in what seems like months. I was nearly ready to hand in my badge. But, alas, the sea always seems to come back to meet me, just in time to prevent some sort of personal collapse or spiral into pessimism that I am susceptible to if I stay dry for too long. Tonight I sit here, 10pm, dogs asleep, dishwasher lulling me in it's domestic rhythm, my hair wet with ocean water still, shoulders tired, mind happy. All pieces are in place.