I See The Sea, And The Sea Sees Me

I saw the sea today. Not a great claim from somebody who lives in a seaside city, on an island no less. But, as I've said before, St John's is well hidden from the sea behind the back of high sea cliffs that surround its harbour. You do obviously see the harbour often and I get a brief glimpse of the sea on my walk to work, but beautiful vistas of great expanses of ocean are not seen with much regularity.

So this afternoon, when staring at my computer screen started to lose its appeal (well, about six hours after it lost its appeal), I decided to take a walk out in the woods behind NAFC (the Northwest Atlantic Fisheries Centre - where I work). It was -9C with a windchill of -20C but the sun was shining proudly and the wind didn't seem to be chilling to its full potential. It was incredibly beautiful out there. The snow had melted from the trees but still covered the road, and it glowed an upbeat white in the sun. There were no sounds except a few birds who had forgotten to fly south for the winter and the crunching, crackling noise of the snow getting compacted underfoot (and "Queens Of The Stone Age" playing through my iPod).


Just off the road behind the building there was a fairly large pond completely frozen over the top but still flowing beneath the ice, feeding a small stream that runs past NAFC. So the first thing I did was what any self-respecting curious person would do (curiousity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought him back), I threw various sized rocks at it to see if I could break it. That ice wasn't giving at all though (and probably won't till May), but I did only have limited firepower at my disposal (I know what you're thinking Phill, and you're probably right - if I'd had a brick I could have done it). Nevertheless, I decided against trying to walk accross it.


The road wound on for about a kilometer and a half untill the sea came into view between through the gap between the trees. Various birds of many descriptions were flying above it (though not being a twitcher I can't fill you in on the details of their taxonomy) and, as a marine biologist and sea-lover, it felt good to see the sea again. The sun, rapidly decending for the night, allowed me one more glance of the ocean before hiding away behind the clouds. So I turned to head back noticing that the wind had been at my back all the way down, which was probably why I hadn't felt that cold. Within five minutes my nose was numb and I had started to lose feeling in most of my face. It's tempting to lick your lips as the wind drys and cools them, but believe me with a windchill of -20C this is not advisable. Still, I made it back to the warmth of my office (and a steaming cup of coffee) feeling invigorated, refreshed and very happy to be working in a place where I can escape to surroundings like that whenever the feeling grabs me (and Mother Nature allows me).