Turn On It, Tune Out, Drop In

W WIND 15 TO 20 KT WITH GUSTS TO 25 KT. WIND WAVES 4 FT. W SWELL 9 FT AT 17 SECONDS...BUILDING TO 14 FT AT 16 SECONDS.

It’s fascinating and terrifying, the business of sharks in the Pacific Ocean. The Pacific is a big place, both on the surface and down into its depths. Some days it lives up to its name, and is calm and placid. Other days it is a wind whipped surging monster topped with liquid moving mountains.
Headlands form picturesque coves lined with Fir and punctuated with creeks and mossy waterfalls. Signs warn of the danger and forbid less savory aspects of human activity. No signs are posted in the sea to forbid the activities of the Carcharadons. And they are definitely out there in the depths, waiting, opportunistic, unconcerned about any affect their actions might have on our terrestrial lives.
They are invisible, camouflaged perfectly in their liquid den. I can’t see them, but I know they’re there. Traversing submerged foothills, pastures and deep valleys. They are there, multiplying…birthing perfect killing machines that must escape the jaws of their older brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, fathers and mothers.
Sharks are interesting, it’s undeniable. They’re also loathed by some and hated in their cold-blooded goggle-eyed perfection. They don’t judge, they don’t reason or show compassion. They hunt when they hunger and the ocean is their hunting ground, larder and table…providing a nearly endless supply of meat.
In the old days, everything was bigger…and there was more of everything…just less people. Now there’s less of everything, just more people. Things haven’t really improved all that much. Sharks are still perfect, they still hunt without remorse, they’re just smaller and there are less of them. That’s why when a baby Great White dies on a cold Oregon beach in the winter…it isn’t a time for celebration, just woe.