Commentary  My daughter sometimes surfs the bore wave that heralds the incoming tide at Turnagain Arm, Alaska. The wave, or waves, to be exact, can reach a height of 10 feet, but are usually smaller. Regardless of the size, the waves draw surfers from all over, each looking for the rush of riding a crest, and hoping not to crash in the foam.
While I have yet to surf those freezing waters, which are bounded by menacing quicksand-like mudflats, I recently rode a wave that lasted almost two years. To tell the truth, I enjoyed the ride. Sure, I knew my wave was the least of the series, with a subsequent one roaring in the distance. And I knew I had no chance of reaching the safety of a sandy shore before I was left crushed, broken, and shirtless by the tidal wave to come.
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