Richard Olmer

At Rialto Beach on a Friday in November, there was a situation:

Waves soared more than 28 feet into the air, rocks denoting the further reaches of the North American continent were attacked and people on the beach witnessed one of nature's grandest shows.

The water looked like shaving cream propelled against the rocky coast. It was not water that you could see through; it was opaque, white and thick. As it churned, it became brownish and chocolate looking.

Offshore, waves hurled against the rocky offshore continental remnants. It was a powerful display.

A man alone in these seas could be torn apart and disappear - I watched from the shore.



Angry, hungry sea

I was careful. If I were not alert, a rogue wave could grab me and pull me from the shore into the deeper water where I would be tossed like a fragment of a giant tree or a tiny bit of shell.

On this day, the sea was not pretty, not inviting, not a haven in any sense of the word; it was angry and hungry. It was ready to devour you and anything else it could reach. As you look at the photo, realize that as I watched, waves crashed over the top of this rock - they tossed whole fir trees like a child's toy in a game played by giants.

One of the things that is special at Rialto Beach are the places along the shore where small rocks congregate. When the waves roll in and flatten, you can hear the pebbles rolling into the sea as the water recedes. On this day, the sound was like the exhaust of a jet engine ... a roar that almost hurt your ears.



Horizon vanishes

While driving in, the horizon was not there. There was no slate gray line that separated sky and water. Instead, a white, churning mass with fingers reaching upward like geysers seemed to pull the sky down into its control.

I often come to Rialto Beach when I know I can expect such a show of nature's raw and untameable power. This show was the best I ever have seen.

It was an act of faith to stand and watch the chaos; it was insanity to be so close to this madness.

I guess that is the magic that draws me here; it is a place where I control nothing but my body.



Safety amid chaos

Everything around me is in chaos - madness - and yet I am safe. I am allowed to be here.

As you stand in a place like this, you feel blessed and warned at the same time. The power is more than you could ever control and yet, you are reminded that you are a guest here.

This is, in some small sense, a reminder that you never are in control; you are along for the ride. It is a gift that comes with some responsibility.

Once during such a storm a few years ago, a wave caught me by surprise and toppled me. The water was frigid, and I bounced on the sand and rocks unable to do much else for a few seconds. I understand that such days make demands as well as being a gift.



Richard Olmer can be reached at columnists@

sequimgazette.com.