When you go out to the open sea for the first time on an ordinary inflatable boat, you feel very uncomfortable. It's akin to being on a kid's bike in the middle of a highway-a complete lack of a sense of security. And even if you put on a beautiful pink helmet, it does not add to peace of mind.
It is an understandable feeling, because under you is not a solid and static surface of the earth, but something equally huge, but at the same time alive and constantly moving. A mass of water stretching to the horizon. And you can't even guess how it will behave in the next moment. Add here a strong wind, and a little fantasy about what is hidden in the depths, and the feeling of anxiety can increase a hundredfold.
That is why, on my first trips to the sea on an amateur boat, I did not move further from the shore than a couple of hundred meters, the distance that I can swim in cold water in a pile of clothes if my paranoia comes true.
But gradually the fear goes away, not to say that you defeat it, rather it is replaced by another feeling - a sense of curiosity. The thirst to take another step further from the calm harbor. Like a child who gradually begins to move further away from his parents on the playground in order to get to that steep hill over there.
And this curiosity pays off handsomely. New places, new viewing angles, a sea of new discoveries, emotions and moments. And the most interesting thing is new meetings, sometimes with unexpected travelers, whom you can meet only here.
Traveling through these vast expanses, it's hard to believe that you can meet someone. So endless are these edges, and ascetic in their images. Millions of kilometers of water, and this is just the surface, not counting all the levels of depth of the northern waters. But amazing meetings happen here all the time.
One of the keepers of the depths is the little tabby, which is found here most often, almost at any time of the year. They like to come close to the shore and therefore the chance to see them is much higher than to meet other cetaceans.
There is a version that they come to the noise of motor boats, knowing that most likely they are fishermen, which means there will be bait for small fish in the water and the whale will be able to get prey, and not look for shoals of fish himself.
Of course, this often leads to whales falling under the boat's propeller. Most small fishing vessels cannot inflict serious wounds on them, however, there is nothing good in this.
You are unlikely to notice a whale until it swims close enough to you and emerges to breathe. His back perfectly merges with the color of the waves. But on a quiet day, you can hear from the loud sighs while you're at anchor.
To be honest, I constantly struggle with the desire to dive into the water to get closer to these beautiful giants. Maybe if these waters were a little warmer, I would have done so. I really want to stroke a huge kind-hearted whale with my hands. But not only whales live in these waters, there are monsters bigger…
Nuclear submarines often appear just as unexpectedly and suddenly, literally sneaking up on you.
I will assume that there are more people in the world who have seen whales in the wild than those who have seen submarines in the wild. But here it's the opposite. There are about 35-40 nuclear submarines based nearby, and they constantly cruise along the coast.
But of course to see it from the water, it's a completely different feeling. A small black island appears out of nowhere, it ignores the waves that beat against its sides, harsh people in uniform walk on it, and nothing grows on its surface.
As a collective image of destructive human nature, especially when you consider that it most likely has missiles with nuclear warheads on board that can destroy half of the continents.
But suddenly the wind carries the laughter of the sailors to you. These are ordinary people who are glad that they got out of the depths, so alien to man, into the sunlight. And you realize that they are ordinary people doing their job to feed their families. So are the engineers who created these boats and rockets. Maybe this is really a necessity, a working deterrent factor, reminding all sides of the futility of such a devastating war.
Anyway, those who will definitely cheer upon their return to shore are mischievous white-sided dolphins.
Just like whales remind of something fundamental and eternal, with their huge size and unhurried movements. So funny dolphins always look to me like carefree and playful youth. Careless youngsters living here and now, in the moment.
Challenging you to compete, inviting you into their life full of fun and lightness. They are just glad that you are here and they can frolic with you in a friendly competition
Behind all this, like the legendary silent ninjas, seals are watching, waiting for you to lose your vigilance in order to steal something edible from the boat.
And all this is always here, nearby, happening all the time. Not simultaneously, but regularly and often, with or without you. Your presence does not affect what is happening... however, if you are never here, then all this will not exist in your life from the position of an observer. Something like a ripple effect. So just go somewhere and look around if you have the opportunity. Take as many curiosity steps as possible and you won't regret it.
Next time I will invite you for a walk along the northern wild beaches.They may well compete in beauty with their southern resort counterparts.
