Claire Collins
Professor Howie
October 27, 2013
Carolina Shores
The beach is comforting for anyone willing to analyze the small beauties it brings. The angelic Carolina shore brings me pure joy. I taste the salt, feel the powdery terrain at my disposal, hear the joyous people nearby, and gaze at the magical place I call home. The ocean is my closest friend. I can relate to the sea on the darkest and brightest of days.
The darkest skies bring me comfort. A dreary dark sky lingers over the vast body of water. In times of pain the beach is the shoulder I lean on. I can feel the emotions of the land. Storms full of anger, winds rough enough to blow anyone’s negative energy away. When I am in times of trouble I slip on a suit, grab my board and head to my safe place. When the clouds begin to cry the ocean shakes a storm. I paddle out on my longboard and weave through the maze of white caps. They’re so white, the color of purity. It amazed me how such beauty can mask the Earth’s most depressing emotions. During the wake of a storm you must paddle twice as hard. Waves continue to beat you down, and I start to struggle. When I become overwhelmed from treading water, waves cover me like a blanket. The struggle is the beauty. The ocean is a pit of emotions; you escape in its presence. Once I conquer the difficult paddle, I sit and wait for the right set of waves. Eyes burning bright red from the stinging salt, and my nose running like a faucet. All I can do is wait for the perfect wave. Paddle, Paddle, Paddle are the only voices in my head. The monster has arrived and it is magnificent. I spear the giant with my sword. The cold fearsome giant will not swallow me; I fly on the crystal wave all the way to where the ocean kisses the sand. I am in my natural habitat.
The Essay on The major ocean surface current patterns
An ocean surface current is a constantly directed and continuous movement or flow of ocean water. Major ocean surface current patterns are powered by the wind. However, these patterns are also largely influenced by other factors such as the Corolis effect, which is the deflection of the water to the direction of the wind, the differences in heating across the globe, and the structure of the ...
The brightest days bring me comfort. Warm beams of radiant sunshine heat the soft bed of sand. I lay my towel down on the beach and soak up as much sun as I can. The sand is inviting, the surf is friendly, and the land is nurturing. The shore’s serenity and tranquility is a tease. Tourists travel to the Carolina shore to find peace and to escape reality for a brief moment. Brochures persuade that the beach is a spacious getaway from disturbance. More like a can of salty, slimy sardines. Good beach days result in packed beaches, zero space, and lots of sweaty people. Days with charming weather and placid waters are the days you are lucky to find a patch of space to lay your towel. On a windy day sand leaves rough carpet burns on your shins. Nothing is worse than eating a handful of chips seasoned in sand. Small broken shells crawl to every single sweaty crevice on your body, and sand flees are the worst. The most popular activity at the beach is tanning; everyone wants to look like a sun-kissed goddess. But no one is a goddess, and the overachievers end up with the nick name “lobster” for the remainder of their vacation. If you have long hair and go to the beach, be prepared for a bird’s nest of knots. If you are a heavy sleeper, apply your protective coat of SPF well. If you do not like fire, do not come around.
The cliché perfect beach day is one with gentle waters and high boiling temperatures. My picture perfect beach day is one that only occurs in the fall. I look left and right, and not a soul is in sight. Tourists have gone home, and the only footprints belong to locals. On my imaginary, ideal day the oceans swells are impeccable. I can think back to only one moment that I became one with the sea. It was a difficult time in my life, and I needed a companion. I ran downstairs, slipped on a wet suit, grabbed my board, and headed to the beach. Barefoot I walked through what felt like hundreds of tiny crabs. I bent over to remove the sand spurs from my tender feet. The exfoliating grains of broken shells and rocks massaged my heels as I continued to my playground. Strapped the leash to my ankle and bolted into the low tide. A rip current was brewing, so deadly it could kill me. When you are in that moment, you have to learn how to operate in the present. All my sorrows and drama sank into the dark abyss of the sea because now none of that was important. I had to fight to keep out of the evil rip current. The ocean spit out a flawless Carolina wave. This was the ultimate ride I had been waiting for. Paddle, Paddle, Paddle are the words echoing in the back of my mind. I raced to catch the once in a life time opportunity. It was truly magical, and I will always remember the curl of the wave over top my head.
The Essay on Deep Water Ocean North Atlantic
Cold water discovered in the subtropical Atlantic was brought there by a current which had originated in the polar region; temperature measurements in the real ocean and computer models show there is a southward outflow of cold deep water from the Arctic throughout the Atlantic. This cold water is replaced by warm surface waters, which gradually give off their heat to the atmosphere as they flow ...
I was one with the ocean, and everything appeared to be so pure. The murky East Coast water appeared clear. The salt tasted of sweet sugar. My hand skimmed the water like shaking a lifelong friend’s hand. A rush went through my body; I was a child of the tides. The ocean is my closest friend, and she keeps all my secrets safe and sound.
