Friday Writing Essential : Close Encounter :The Shrinking Island

THE SEA AND THE SHRINKING ISLAND

My happy sojourn in the fascinating Basque country around San Sebastian was sadly ending. For an unforgettable ten days, I had worked on a farm, shared meals with the farm workers and enjoyed seeing them at play. On their advice and with their help, I traveled up into the mountains, saw the Basque potters at work and saw El Amor Brujo danced and sung, in an old theatre somewhere in these mountains.

There was enough time left for the Basque world to offer me just one last memorable experience. The sea in the large bay of San Sebastian is really part of the huge Bay of Biscay. I had been looking at the sea every day lately and I knew that I had to get to know that bay of all bays more intimately. Every time that I saw it, I saw how alive the sea was. It was vibrant but always in a different way.

So, on my last day, I went down to the beach. There was an anticipation of some excitement in my heart. I was sure that the land of the Basques had only joy to offer me on my farewell day. As I looked at the rushing and swirling water, I saw the green and olive currents streaming in random convoluted patterns. In the distance, I could see an island that I felt I could just reach. Because of the long distance, I knew I would have to rest for a while before I could dare to undertake the return journey. After all, I was athletic but not a well-trained long distance swimmer.

I changed into my costume, ran down the beach and plunged in. I was soon being buffeted by the waves and finding me sometimes dragged down below the waves or, at other times, lifted like a cork. It was then that I remembered what the sailors, on a cargo boat, had once told me. They had explained how every mile of the mighty Atlantic, was subjected to enormous lunar pulls and the cumulative effects of the legendary roaring Trade Winds.

They also told me how, at the Bay of Biscay end of this ocean, the tide could rise and fall by more than ten meters. It was about then that I began to hear the sounds of majestic music. Was it an imaginary Yo Yo Ma playing on his Davidoff cello? Was this music a welcome and an encouragement? Did the natural charm of the Basques extend to its sea?

Could they make their sea play music?

As the conditions became rougher, thoughts of concern began to enter my mind. I had not meant this swim to be an epic deed. Had it been ordained that I should prove that I was a hero? To whom? After all, there was no one watching me...or was there?

Eventually, I arrived at the island, more exhausted than I had hoped to be. I was surprised to see how small it was. It was, at that stage, a mere 20 by 30 meters. From the shore, it had looked much larger. However, I was exhausted and all that I wanted to do then was lie down, rest and recover my strength. Unfortunately, there was to be no rest for me that day. Not on that island. Not on that day..

When I awoke from my catnap, I immediately noticed how ominous the sea had begun to sound. I now had the distinct feeling that Yo Yo Ma had now switched to playing the more macabre Devil's Dance. But there was something else far more frightening. The island was rapidly becoming smaller. Soon, there was a ring of only 3 meters left and not long after that, I was knee deep in the water.

Besides the music, there were other hints of warnings and urgings. I began to hear screeches although there were no sea birds to be seen anywhere.

Suddenly, a wave came from nowhere and quite decisively knocked me into the water. I had no choice. There was no time to ponder my fate. I had to begin to swim. Then something strange occurred. Everything became unbelievably beautiful. For a moment, I thought that I was going through the process of drowning. I had heard somewhere that drowning was actually a most pleasant experience. I had never been able to accept that. Well, not until that moment. What I then felt was a sensation of somehow being carried on and on by a mysterious force to the music of an exultant Yo Yo Ma now playing a Jubilatum. I felt myself speeding through the water almost like a dolphin. Eventually, I was flung, like a doll, for some distance, onto the beach sand. There I lay breathless, exhausted but somehow in a state of wondrous awe.

When I looked up, after a brief rest, I heard a man talking to me in broken English.

"Young man, I've been watching you for some time. You fascinated me by your extreme foolishness. Then, I thought, that you must be a stranger. For only a fool or a stranger would dare to swim in these waters at high tide. Do know in what great danger you were?

Did you not know that when the tide began to recede, it would have pulled you into the Atlantic Ocean? You would have been lost, somewhere in the Bay of Biscay or even further out."

Then he smiled at me.

"Ah, but you are fortunate. You are here among the Basques. As you know, the bay of San Sebastian is in Basque territory. Did you not feel the warmth and the caring? The generosity of spirit? The reaching out to someone in trouble? 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 held out our hands.

PS This story is based on my own real experience.