Growing up as a surfer I have always been intrigued to surf the Alaska bore tide.  After having lived in Alaska for 12 years I finally took on the challenge!  (Reader be Advised: DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME).  Surfing the bore tide in the Cook Inlet was as complex and as dangerous as it looks; not the surfing part as much as being in freezing cold brackish water with very violent currents.  Did I mention the mud is composed of glacier silt, which has a reputation for acting like quicksand? Such circumstances become dire for anyone stuck sinking in it.  So, why did I do it?  Well, for one thing, I have been surfing since I could walk, and I love the water in all conditions.  Second, I had very good gear, consisting of a 5-millimeter wetsuit, boots, gloves, a surfable SUP (stand up paddleboard) with a very good leash tethering me to it.  I also went with a friend who has surfed the bore tide before and had done his research with the tide charts. 

The reason I bring up this adventure is not to simply revel in something of a one-of-a-kind experience (many Alaskans certainly have their version of “awesome”!), but to talk about how God spoke to me through his creation.  As crazy as it was to “put in” past Girdwood and drift a mile back toward Bird Point, to be moving with wind and current at speeds up to fifteen miles per hour, there was even more than this that caught my attention. I was captivated by something strikingly beautiful.  Looking upward from the water gave us almost inexplicably amazing water to mountain to clouds vantage point.  As we drifted towards Bird Point where we would meet the coming bore tide, I saw where the low tide had exposed a 30-foot-high sand bar spanning most of the inlet.  Heading right for it, it was calving, dropping sand in, making soft splashes as if to show off.  Just as we began to bend around the sand bar, we could make out what looked like a small string of white water.

Is this the bore tide?  Is this going to be a dud thing where we had taken a lot of time and strength to experience?  What we did not understand was how powerful this wall of water really was.  The closer we came to it, the larger it became.  Was it growing and stretching? I cannot say for sure.  All I know is that by the time I had dug in and paddled to catch it, it was spanning the inlet and on top of me as if it were alive.  I felt like I was in a dream, connecting with something bigger than me.  Not like I was in mortal danger but like I was seeing and feeling something way outside of normal surfing.  I kept pushing myself to crank and paddle saying inside, “You better not miss this!”  I knew I may never be in this position again.  Happily, we both caught the foamy wave.  He stayed on for a normal surf length of time (not very long) and I somehow stayed on it for five minutes.  I literally did not step off until I ran aground.  To say surfing the bore tide was existential is no overstatement but it was not merely the rush of speed, like surfing a massive wave.  No, it was the overall admixture of abject beauty, expansive power, and the satisfaction of being in the right place at the right time with the right equipment that moved me along for such a long ride.

Riding the bore tide has been done, so I am by no means a pioneer.  In fact, our inexperience with being in the inlet showed up as soon as we were done.  I literally stopped in the middle of the inlet when my fin dug into the ground.  I turned around to see my partner paddling to catch up.  I was glad to see he was all good, but this was when we began to make a few errors.  First, we caught the tide in the middle of the inlet.  If you weren’t aware, the inlet is a geological phenomenon with the largest tidal differential second only to the Bay of Fundi.  Water drops thirty feet down at low tide and then dramatically refills; thus, surfers are tempted with the big surfable wave every twelve hours.  Gravity in this circumpolar part of the globe sucks water up into the mountain streams and then the dam breaks, and then the water flows back into the proverbial tub!  Okay, back to our story.  As we celebrated catching the wave, the basin was refilling, and to our alarm, it was doing so quickly.  The wind was no help, not blowing the direction we need to go.  So, before we knew it, we were somewhat marooned out in the middle of the inlet and drifting very slowly.  This made for about an hour more of hard paddling just to get to the shore.  Apparently, between the planes flying over and drive-by’s, people were texting whether to call search and rescue – lesson learned.  We were never panicked but definitely felt like we had suddenly bitten off more than we were ready to chew.  We walked in, ditched our gear on the side of the road, hiked half-mile more to our rig, drove back, and racked our boards.  Was this good to do?  I sure enjoyed it.  But what is not lost on me was the vision of God projecting through his Creation.  I witnessed an unrivaled catch-your-breath beauty met with rushing untamed power.  Too many wrong moves could have been a disaster and by God’s grace, things all worked out. 

Let me end on this note.  Look around and see and be seized by God through His creation.  He made it to speak and speak loudly.  It is always shouting “God” – “God’s beauty” – “God’s glory” – “God’s power.”  Like the psalmist, do not miss hearing God’s voice, every day. 

Psalm 19:1-6 (ESV)

To the choirmaster. A Psalm of David.

The heavens declare the glory of God, and the sky above proclaims his handiwork. Day to day pours out speech, and night to night reveals knowledge. There is no speech, nor are there words, whose voice is not heard. Their voice goes out through all the earth, and their words to the end of the world. In them he has set a tent for the sun, which comes out like a bridegroom leaving his chamber, and, like a strong man, runs its course with joy. Its rising is from the end of the heavens, and its circuit to the end of them, and there is nothing hidden from its heat.