I’m thinking about what one would think if they were plunked down on the shores of Lake Michigan & asked to take their blindfold off. Many, if not most, would say they were looking at the ocean.
That overwhelming feeling you talk about is there when you’re standing on the shore of one of the great lakes, primarily because you looking at a lake. I mean, the ocean is supposed to be large, but you’re not supposed to see gigantic ships on a lake.
My perspective is different, I guess. My family has had a house at the beach since before I was born. If given the choice, I’d take the salt water all day long. That being said, the first time I saw one of the Great Lakes, I was pretty blown away by how much it resembled the ocean.
How long would it take to work out that this wasn’t the case? I suspect it depends how inquisitive the person was (i.e. taste the water), but also on the weather. Hot enough for a swim? You’ll soon know whether it’s salt or fresh water, assuming you’ve previously swum in both.
I’ve been within sight of the shore of Lake Michigan in Chicago, and it’s blatantly obvious to anyone who has spent much time in the US that you’re in the middle of Chicago there. I don’t know about the rest of the lakefront, but I would bet you could tell by various environmental clues, not to mention the characteristic smell (or lack thereof) of the ocean.
I’m willing to believe that the visceral sensation of powerlessness in the face of a (hopefully) benevolent Mother Nature is similar enough, but there’s a psychological/intellectual aspect to knowing the grandiosity of the body of water in question, too.
Huh? You do realize that Chicago isn’t even visible form most of lake Michigan, right? As a matter of fact, I’ve been to several parts of Lake Michigan, but never set foot in that city.
Of course you could figure it out, and probably rather quickly. That isn’t really my point, though.
So it’s not the point? Then what is the point of the blindfold-reveal scenario, then? It seems to be reducing the idea of standing on a coastal or Lake Michigan shore to a pictorial snapshot, which we all can surely agree is not representative.
The point is that it’s a pretty darn similar experience to looking at the ocean. I would bet that most people who have grown up around the Great Lakes would probably have a similar reaction my mother did when she first saw the ocean: “It looks like Lake Erie.”
I honest can’t believe this thread, in a matter of about a dozen posts, has been reduced to such nitpickery.
I saw the Atlantic ocean from somewhere near Daytona Beach once, in 1996, for 20 minutes (literally - not just joking on a meme!)
My dad took us by there on our way to Disney. It was all right. I am not jonesing to get back there any time soon.
I like going to the beaches here in Cleveland. For one, there are no sharks, jellyfish or stingray. And, all of the patrons are much fatter and uglier than the folks I saw in Florida - the people here are my kind of people
I suppose what riles me, and perhaps others, is the possibly unintentional implication of some of the comments which is “well, you might as well just be looking at the great lakes, what’s so special about the ocean?”
And I suppose this works two ways. For somebody who has grown up with Lake Michigan as their home, dismissive comments might hurt. For those of us who have a close affinity to particular seas and oceans, being told that they’re “just a big lake” is a bit of a red rag.
I was born 2 blocks from the Pacific Ocean and have spent 99% of my life within 20 miles of the coast. I can’t imagine what it must be like to experience the ocean for the first time.
I know. If there was a thread that pitted ocean people vs. lake people, I’d be on your side. I’m just saying that, if I’m going to the ocean with someone seeing it for the first time, just to see the look on his or her face, I’d rather go with someone who has never seen anything as big as one of the Great lakes. That would be more fun, I think.
I was in my mid-20’s when I saw the Pacific for the first time, and I still remember the feeling. It quite literally took my breath away.
I think part of my awe was because of all the history associated with oceans – especially early explorers. Going out on that in a wooden boat? Amazing. It’s the first time I had a sense of the size of the world, and how small my part of it was.
I think Lake Michigan is almost as good as an ocean. It’s not the same, but it’s good enough. For the purposes of lying on the sand and lounging around, anyway.
I was actually surprised as to how similar the beach of Lake Michigan was to an ocean beach. Sand and everything. I associate lake shores with either mud or stones. Lake M’s beach is nice and sandy.
I have always lived within twenty or so miles of the Pacific Ocean, and as a kid I would wade out to about waist-deep water and think, “Wow, if I could continue out this direction I would wind up in Hawaii, or the Orient. And behind me is all of North America! I’m actually standing in that big blue area on the map!”
At that point I would be hit by a big wave I hadn’t noticed approaching and would be tumbled end over end to come up with salt water in my nose and ears and sand in my swim trunks. But that’s a different story.
Hell, I grew up in the prairies but still saw the ocean for the first time at age 2 or so. Don’t remember the experience.
On the other hand, I now live near the ocean and am amazed at how few people have ever seen the prairies (or plains for my American friends), and furthermore think there is nothing interesting to see there.
The Great Lakes have large waves. I know people who had a tugboat on lake Erie, and they told stories about coming back to port through a freak storm with twelve-foot waves.
Now, if you mean the kind of waves that people surfboard in, maybe not. But I suspect that there are a lot of seas in the world that don’t have that kind of wave either.
