Sea Fever by John Masefield
I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,
And the wheel’s kick and the wind’s song and the white sail’s shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea’s face, and a grey dawn breaking.
I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.
I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull’s way and the whale’s way, where the wind’s like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick’s over.
I am always moved by this poem as I am by work such as Debussy’s La Mer (The Sea). While you’re reading this and looking at the images you can hear the third movement (Dialog of the Wind and the Sea) by turning up your volume and clicking on the arrow here.
It is his impressionistic style that appeals to me but it is also the images evoked of the sea, something with which I have had a long love affair. (My Nordic genes?) My late friend, psycho-analyst LeRoy Byerly, once observed that the sea reminded us of the sloshing waters of the womb. Well, it could be but my own affinity for the waters dates from childhood on the beaches and along the Intra Coastal Waterway in a boathouse on pilings with my rowboat underneath it. Also, having to watch all of the episodes of Victory at Sea many times in OCS probably had some effect as well.
In any event I have a bountiful stream of memories involving the seas and other waterways. As a child, diving under the waters, pretending to be the comic book character, Submariner; walking the beaches in winter after school; scampering dangerously from rock to rock on the jettys; putt-putting through the marshes after a night of fishing, with only a war surplus one-cell life jacket light as a running light.
As an adult it was watching the chairs slide across the deck in the wardroom while crossing a March, storm-tossed North Atlantic, and watching the long deck of the LST ripple with each wave through which we plowed. It was barely surviving a windy day’s broach and near capsizing of a Captain’s gig I was running while rounding the tip of Conanicut Island where the Narragansett opened to Long Island Sound’s chop. It was standing on the bridge in deep night during a quieter Atlantic crossing and seeing another ship ghosting by in the distance, sharing the greatness and the depths and the loneliness of stars and sea. It was standing on a Pacific shore as the sun sank into the mysterious Far East with Richard Rodgers’ Theme of the Fast Carriers spinning in my head, thinking about that war and my brother storming murderous beaches, and the great dramas and losses and sadness of that profound era.
It is my brother, Bill’s, poem defining experiences I have also felt.
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It was being anchored in a bight along the Rideau Waterway in Canada, surrounded by rocky hillsides, seated with my family on the roof of our rented houseboat as night and a Canadian chill fell upon us and hearing the plaintive call of a loon. It was being placidly anchored in some secluded gunk-hole of the Chesapeake Bay as twilight descended upon us amidst others at anchor; secure, sharing private peace from the hazards of life, the bay and the night… islands of humanity. And, it has been struggling through six foot seas as we ran along the coast while the cat puked on the aft deck and Marty Lou wondered out loud why she had ever left the mountains.
It has been walking the docks of marinas after safely tying up at day’s end, hearing the sounds and smelling the smells of boats at rest. It has been gazing over the froth-filled near-shore reefs at the distant mountains of St. Bart’s as the sun rose on our beloved Dawn Beach. It has been gliding on a canal boat through a dark Alsatian mountain tunnel in lantern light with the sounds of a requiem mass being played. Whose? Too many years ago and too far away; I don’t remember.
It has been out on the sailing grounds, sun and spray in my face, watching the races and hearing the shhhhh of the hulls slicing through the water, the clicking of the cranked winches, and the occasional flapping of luffing sails. It has been standing on the beach during a Nor’easter, physically understanding the overwhelming forces of the pounding waves and my own insignificance there. And it has been watching the moon’s reflection and the brief sheen left on a receding wave.
Yes, I must go down to the seas again…….

April 1, 2012 at 7:53 am
Amazing, Ralph. You’ve certainly captured some of the moods and feelings the sea evokes.
April 1, 2012 at 8:34 am
Thanks, Ken. It can be so dramatic that it’s frequently easy to capture a good image. BTW, I have been thoroughly enjoying your Grand Central portfolio.
April 1, 2012 at 8:36 am
Beautiful, as always.
April 1, 2012 at 8:46 am
Thanks, Bonnie. Ever ridden your horses on the beach?
April 1, 2012 at 9:31 am
This is really lovely Ralph – and it’s almost time to go down to the seas again….
April 1, 2012 at 11:10 am
Thanks, Diane. Ever hear that music when you’re scuba diving? If so, narcosis???
April 1, 2012 at 10:23 am
Ralph, you are always combining wonderful images with thought provoking, meaningful text, but this is just absolutely great.
I, as a sailor, can relate to some of the sights and feelings and you just draw them back. Thank you!. Skip V.
April 1, 2012 at 11:11 am
Thanks, Skip; pleased to have reached a fellow sailor.
April 1, 2012 at 11:20 am
Living near the ocean means continual washing off the sometimes grimy dust of living. Beautiful sentiments, pictures and music. Marilyn F.
April 2, 2012 at 8:39 pm
Thanks, Marilyn. Nicely said.
April 1, 2012 at 12:58 pm
What a lovely surprise on a thus far quiet Sunday.
April 2, 2012 at 8:40 pm
I’m pleased that you enjoyed it, Marie.
April 1, 2012 at 4:39 pm
Beautiful photos Ralph. The first one is fabulous and my favorite. Is that a new one?
April 2, 2012 at 8:47 pm
Thanks, Denise. The first was a single image post-processed thru PhotoMatix which punched it up. I submitted it in February 2010 and as a print in December 2010. The second and fourth appeared in a post-Katia journal post last September.
April 2, 2012 at 8:07 am
Beautiful captures, Ralph!
April 2, 2012 at 8:48 pm
Thanks, Julie. (Was my grammar OK? ;-))
April 2, 2012 at 9:18 am
Ralph,
I enjoy how your images and words made me think about the sea and my own memories of playing in the water. Thank you for encouraging the art of reminiscing.
Pat
April 2, 2012 at 8:49 pm
Thanks. Its nice to hear about the effect.
April 2, 2012 at 2:35 pm
I’d rather be on my boat with a drink on the rocks etc. Yes, some wonderful times!! Bob
April 2, 2012 at 8:49 pm
Where are you anchored? We’ll rack up.
October 1, 2020 at 12:39 pm
Beautiful combination of visual and auditory !
October 1, 2020 at 2:23 pm
Thanks, Val. Just right for us shore folks, and by the way, you’re right about what century I should have been born into.
October 1, 2020 at 2:25 pm
Lovely…let’s GO!
October 1, 2020 at 2:26 pm
OK. Saturday.