Waves

Waves

Did you know the word for someone who loves the sea is a thalassiophile?  Well, I’m clearly one of them.  I love the sea in all it’s forms but I particularly love a wild sea.  And the best bit…?  The waves.  I love the violence of them and I love the sound they make, the louder the crash the better.  I remember watching surfing videos as a kid and being fascinated.  Now it became pretty clear pretty quickly that I wasn’t going to have a career in surfing and so I did the next best thing… I paint them instead.  I do still love watching a documentary about the sea and there is a series that I watched about surfing big waves.  Very big waves.  And the waves they surf are about 100 feet and they crash off the coast of Portugal.  I watched the whole series with fascination and mentally tucked the place away on the bucket list and then promptly forgot about it. 

Years went by and I couldn’t settle on a place to go for my summer break.  As a teacher I get great holidays and this summer lay ahead of me but I couldn’t get excited about it.  Which was pretty unusual for me as I do like a wee solo adventure.  You may also know that I love a wee holiday.  Or two.  But this year at work had been a tough one and I knew I needed to recharge my batteries, and my soul.  It would also be fair to say that it was a tough year painting wise (again) and if I’m honest I had fallen a bit out of love with painting too.  I thought about it a lot- it worried me immensely that I’d practically stopped painting for months.  To be honest, I didn’t want to keep painting if no one was buying.  But I missed the actual process of it- it started as a cherish hobby and became a business.  I wanted to keep paint.  I love painting.  But I don’t always love selling paintings.  What better to reinvigorate my love for it then to head to the home of the big wave; Nazare, Portugal.  Now the biggest waves come in the winter, but I needed some sun on my bones and so I looked at flights, booked an apartment, and away I went.  I confess, I was a bit concerned that it would be a disappointment in the summer.  When I got off the bus, I was a bit underwhelmed by the little town around me but as I headed to my apartment, the reason for the charms of the place became clear.  The beach itself was gorgeous.  I couldn’t wait to get in the water.  I got changed and went straight to the sea, and I realised no one was in the surf.  It was confusing but I assumed there was a reason for it.  I was happy enough to sit and watch the glorious turquois waters.  I left, happy and pleased with myself.  I was up early the next day to explore and swim. But again, no one was in the water.  A quick google suggested that the beach had been closed because of the waves.  I could cope with that, obviously!!  And what terrific waves they were.  The weather deteriorated and that was when I decided to head to the proper surfing beach to see them.

After a trip up a funicular and then a bit of a trek to a lighthouse, I got to the point where the spectators watch the surfing in the winter.  That was pretty exciting but what I could see from the lighthouse just got me more and more excited.  I followed a path down some cliffs, and then when the path ran out I had to scramble down some cliff (shhh don’t tell my mum), and then I finally arrived at the most stunning, isolated beach I’ve ever seen.  And the waves… oh my.  They weren’t the crazy waves of the documentaries, but the were big for the summer and of the purest grey and arctic green that I’ve ever seen.  And they were freezing!  And I say that as a Scot.  As they were too dangerous to swim in, I spent the day watching them instead.  And I loved every minute of it.  I’ve seen a lot of nice beaches in my time, but this place was just spectacular.  It really made my heart sing.  I took hundreds of photos and spent hours editing and cropping them, only to go back to the originals because they were just so perfect as they were.   The day passed too quickly but I went home drunk on my experience.  The whole week felt like a dream.  I was alone, I spoke to no one and I did nothing but sit at the edge of the water for the whole trip.  The town was charming, understated and busy with Portuguese tourists and I spent a lot of the time googling apartments and shop prices, kidding myself that I might indeed move and start a gallery of my own (there are no galleries, can you believe it?).

Well, I won’t be moving to Portugal any time soon, more’s the pity, but the trip did do what I hoped it would.  I’ve not stopped painting since I got home and its big waves with big attitudes.  Oh, and glorious green seas.   So, if you buy one of these waves, please know that you’re buying a wee bit of my hopes and dreams and daydreams and honestly, my soul.  Because I have to tell you, I really, really love my waves because they always heal me.  I’m so glad I went to Portugal to see them…