Rogue Waves

Readers of this blog, both of you, know that I’ve written in the past about tsunamis. There was something that drew me to the Christmas Day, Boxing Day event in the Indian Ocean those years ago—the sudden loss of life that resonated with the death of both my elderly parents and the subsequent opening of the will where I discovered I’d been disinherited. I was blindsided by the betrayal and greediness of my siblings. Just like those enveloped by waves, I was bowled over.

I know the analogy is not the same. Those people died or at the very least were physically impacted. I was mentally and spiritually deluged.

For me life has not been the same.

Now I’m learning about rogue waves. A news headline at the BBC mentioned a passenger on a cruise ship bound for Antarctica had been swept overboard by a rogue wave. I had to investigate this phenomenon.

 I’d first been alerted (no pun intended, maybe) to the idea by a post at a Facebook group about Old Chicago. Apparently in 1954 a rogue wave or something called a seiche swept a man off a Chicago fishing pier on Lake Michigan. From the Chicago Tribune:

A seiche (pronounced saysh) is formed when a high-pressure system pushes lake water ahead of it, much like a storm surge. When the storm front passes through, the water rushes back into place. On June 26, 1954, those atmospheric ingredients resulted in a deadly tragedy.

Chicago was suffering through a stifling heat wave that June. Friday, June 25, saw a record high of 100.3 degrees, but Saturday broke a bit cooler. Many fishermen headed for the lakefront that morning but the lower temps and an ominous line of clouds on the horizon kept most of the beach crowd at home — the only break the city would get that day.

Though the squall line swept in from the north, the rain never came. The fishermen, some of whom had packed up and started leaving as the storm advanced, returned to their favorite spots at the North Avenue jetty and the Montrose Avenue harbor when the clouds passed on to the south and the skies began to clear. The lake was calm.

About 9:25 a.m., the seiche hit. A 1985 Tribune reconstruction described it as a "monstrous, hump-backed sea beast." The surge first lapped over the edge of the Montrose Avenue pier and wetted shoes, but immediately after — so fast that few who ran were able to make it to shore — a wave towering an estimated 8 feet high swept up the shoreline from North Avenue to Wilmette. About 50 people at Montrose Harbor were caught on the breakwater.

It would take more than a week to find all the bodies, eight in all, including a husband and wife who had planned to renew their marriage vows at their son's upcoming wedding, A 16-year-old boy lost his father in the wave but survived because he just happened to be at a nearby boathouse.

I myself have been caught in high-water riding my bike along the lakefront. It seems like high water until it threatens to wash you away and you feel the power of the waves and water pulling at you. It is a real threat. Later, I was very afraid, though at the moment I only knew I had to get away from that treacherous corner on the path susceptible to the rough and oncoming waves. I also heard later that the police had closed the path after indeed a runner right after me had been swept away and killed.

I’ve also visited the lakefront near my house in Chicago when high waves were predicted just to observe the power of nature, and the spray blown over me while still at a safe distance.