I'm reading WG Sebald's 'The Rings of Saturn'. I wont describe it; go and read it. It was suggested to me by a dear colleague at the other end of the world.
In it, he talks of, among many other things, fishermen, 'strung out in a long line on the margin of the sea, at regular intervals'. 'They just want to be in a place where they have the world behind them, and before them is nothing but emptiness'.
I know this feeling, staring intently at the cool horizon, full of possibility, held gently by the waves' murmerings, even here, on the world's edge. Pacific, Atlantic.....it's the same.