The Sea and The Shrinking Island

A contribution to Amy's "The Sea" Competition

My happy sojourn in the spiritually rich Basque country was sadly drawing to an end. I had worked on a farm, I had seen and heard the farm workers at play, I'd been to the mountains, I had seen the Basque potters come down from the mountains, had seen El Amor Brujo danced and sang and I had seen the superb street corner dances.

There was now only enough time for the Basque country to offer me just one more memorable experience. The sea in the bay of San Sebastian is really part of the much larger Bay of Biscay. I'd been looking at the sea every day and I knew that I had to go to it. Every time that I saw it, I noticed that it was alive, vitally alive, but always in a different way.

So on my last day, I went down to the beach with joy in my heart and a spring in my step. I knew that the land of the Basques had only joy to offer me. As I look at the rushing and swirling water I saw green and olive currents convoluted. In the distance I could see an island that I could just reach. I was aware that I'd have to rest for two or three hours before I could dare to undertake the return journey.

I stripped down to my costume and after a run plunged in. As I swam, sometimes below the waves and sometimes buoyant on the surface, I suddenly remembered that on my trip in a cargo boat, the sailors had told me of the terrors of the Bay of Biscay.

They told me how every mile of the thousands of the mighty Atlantic was subjected to enormous lunar pulls and the cumulative effects of the legendary Trade Winds. They told me of how the tide in the Bay of Biscay could rise and fall by more than ten meters.

I had by now begun to hear sounds. An imaginary Yo Yo Ma playing on his Davidoff cello? Was this music a welcome and encouragement? Did the natural charm of the Basques extend to its sea?

As the sea became more rough the thought came to me that I had not intended this swim to be an epic deed. To whom should I prove that i was a hero? There was no one watching me...or was there?

Finally I came to the island. I was surprised to see how small it was. It was only 20 by 30 meters. I had thought that it was much larger. However, I was exhausted and all that I wanted to do was lie down, rest and recover my strength. But there was to be no rest for me that day. Not on that island.

The sea had begun to sound ominous. I can't explain it but I had the distinct feeling that Yo Yo Mama had now decided to play a Devil's Dance. But there was something else more frightening. The island was rapidly becoming smaller by the minute. Soon there was a ring of only 3 meters left and not long after that I was knee deep in the water.

Then I became to hear overtones in the music. Sounds of warning and urgings. I also began to hear a screeching although there were no sea birds to be seen.

Suddenly, a wave came from nowhere and knocked me firmly forward in the direction of the beach. I began to swim but I felt that I was being somehow carried on and on. That's

when I heard Yo Yo playing a Jubilatum. I felt myself speeding through the water almost like a dolphin. Eventually I was flung some distance far onto the beach sand. There I lay breathless, exhausted and in a state of wondrous awe.

When I awoke after a brief nap, I heard a man talking to me in broken English.
"Young man, I've been watching you for some time. You fascinated me because you were so foolish. You dared to swim to that island at high tide. Do you know what danger you were in? Do you?
You didn't know that when the tide receded, it would have pulled you deep into the middle of the Pacific. To be lost somewhere in the Bay of Biscay."

Then he smiled at me.
"Ah but you are fortunate. The bay of San Sebastian is in Basque territory. Didn't you feel the warmth? The generosity of spirit? The welcoming of a friend?"

I rose slowly to my feet and grasped the man's hand. Then we both turned towards the sea and waved.

PS This story is based on events that really occurred.