The Gifts of the Sea - Feral: Rewilding the Land, the Sea, and Human Life - page 258

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The Gifts of the Sea
Many times have I stolen gems from the depths
And presented them to my beloved shore,
He takes in silence but still I give
For he welcomes me ever.
Khalil Gibran
Song of the Wave
Though I sought to persuade myself otherwise, in my heart I knew
that I had no hope of finding or catching an albacore. I later dis-
covered that a kayak cannot travel fast enough to pull a lure through
the water at the necessary speed. I suspect and hope that, had I not
been half-aware of the futility of my quest, I would not have embarked
upon it. I had no desire to kill such a creature, or to inflict pain on an
animal I did not intend to eat. Nor had I any idea of what I might do
if by some extraordinary fluke I managed to hook one. But the thought
of it - the dream of it - pulled me away from my desk, on a buoyant,
glittering day in early October.
The river, swollen by a summer of incessant rain, roared down to
the sea. The water fountained into the air where it hit the first rocks.
Below them it furrowed into foaming gullies and wild rides, swerved
against the banks, whirled round in an exultation of flying spray then
exploded once more on contact with the next set of rocks. It was, in a
thirteen-foot sea kayak, an interesting passage.
I hit the waves in the river's mouth with a smack. A stiff westerly
had stacked the breakers against the shore, twenty or thirty deep. I
dug in and fought what seemed to be a losing battle to break through
them. I began to suspect that I was not progressing at all, but only