Part 1: The Turbid and Jellyfish-Filled Sea
Living in Taiwan, I have experienced the effects of climate change firsthand. Even before the usual typhoon season, Taiwan was hit by a series of typhoons, which raised questions about the island’s vulnerability to climate change. Despite the challenges, swimming in the sea remains a popular activity among locals and tourists. I’m one of those people who love going to the beach and urging my friends to come with me.
Recently, my friends and I debated whether or not to visit Magang(馬崗) for a swim. We compared weather forecasts from the Taiwan Central Weather Bureau and Japan Windguru and discussed the waves’ height and underwater visibility. When we got to the beach, the waves were gentler than expected, but we still had to be careful since some jellyfish are poisonous. Waves above 0.6 meters in height are difficult for the average swimmer, and diving should not be done in small waves.
As someone with an insatiable curiosity, I turned to Google to learn more about wave types. According to a table I found, waves that are 0.1–0.3 meters high are called “small wavelets,” while those that are 0.6–1.0 meters high are called “large wavelets.” Waves that are 1.0–1.5 meters high are generally described as “small waves.” After these, there are moderate, large, high, exceptionally high, and huge waves. I was surprised to find that the infamous “Mad-dog waves,” a term commonly used in Taiwan, were not on the scale. It made me wonder if the term was tailor-made for Taiwanese or if something was lost in translation. I found out that there is no such terminology in wave theory, and it is only used as a common expression.
During a conversation with my friend Yi, we discussed the dangers of swimming in big waves. Yi explained that we could swim in small wavelets and reluctantly manage to swim in large wavelets, but diving should not be done in small waves. It was a reminder that in the ocean, humans are far inferior to fish. In addition to this treat, after waiting some time we could finally see the moon emerge from some thick clouds. Moreover, on the trail down to the beach, we encountered swarms of hermit crabs. The sound of their scampering across the sand was very loud as if they were somehow saluting their Goddess of Mercy. Three half-beak fish were swimming in the waves. I couldn’t help but follow their mysterious blue, transparent feather-light bodies till my shorts got soaked. Gazing far into the distance, I noticed countless night fishing lights darting from fishing boats. They were dazzling and dreamlike and in dramatic contrast to the underwater glowing flower held by a lone night diver nearby.
Despite the challenges, Yi and I went to the beach to swim in the morning and met up with others in the evening for camping. However, we had to move our campsite to another beach due to the strong sea spray. The salt-laden air brought tears to our eyes. Near our new campsite was a fishing village that was celebrating the birthday of Guanyin, also known as the Goddess of Mercy. Together, we watched a rare outdoor Taiwanese Opera in front of a splendid temple, with magnificent fireworks lighting up the night sky.
In the end, I learned that the sea’s beauty and danger go hand in hand. It’s essential to respect its power and be careful when swimming or diving in the ocean. Despite the challenges, Yi and I had a great time at the beach, and it was a memorable experience that I will cherish forever.
