Reaching Infinity

When "The O.C." first premiered in August, 2003, it wasn't just the pretty people that drew me in. It wasn't only the witty dialog, the over the top teen drama, Peter Gallagher's eyebrow(s), the amazing soundtrack. It was also the iconic infinity pool.

I certainly didn't grow up rich. The swimming pool at the Holidome always had the same harsh edge on every side. The neighbors' pool always felt so constricting, so contained, so finite. But here in Orange County, with it's larger-than-my-garage poolhouse-cum-best bedroom ever, was a pool without limits, a pool who's surface seemed to stretch to infinity.

Finally, nine years after being introduced to the concept, I finally got to swim in an infinity pool, while traveling through northern Portugal, in Viana do Castelo.  While there was no sunset view of the Pacific from this pool (the actual filming location for the pilot episode being in Malibu, with the pool in question on the neighboring "Cooper family" property, and the poolhouse itself constructed just for the show), it still had the limitless feel in the water, and allowed me to see up close how the effect is achieved.

As these pools have a finite, though seemingly quite near infinite, cost, the water must be bounded on all sides even if it appears not to be. Otherwise it would be a hole with a large puddle next to it. The infinity edge of the pool is thus constructed just tall enough to maintain the desired depth of water, and the pool is filled barely above this level, 1/4 inch or less above the lip. As light passes through this thin layer, the larger index of refraction of the water as compared to the air (approx. 1.3 vs 1.0) further hides the pool's interior edge from view, as we all remember from Snell's Law), which relates the sines of the angles of incidence and refraction to the indices of refraction of the two media. The same effect is responsible for making filled pools look shallower than they actually are.

But the missing edge cannot constrain the water levels with the introduction of swimmers and other bodies to the pool. As the Greek mathematician Archimedes allegedly discovered in his bathtub in the 200s B.C., submerging an object displaces a volume of water equal to that of the object. Adding any volume of sexy O.C. swimmer to the pool will raise the water level some, even anorexically-skinny Marissa. Checking out the back side of the infinity pool shows the disappointing truth, that the rising water falls off into a trough to be collected and recirculated through the pool; it isn't held in by surface tension or some other magical force, nor does it trickle carelessly down the cliffside. I guess it's more cost-efficient this way, less wasteful. I never would've expected such logic from the Newport Elite.

Even though my infinity pool wasn't as impressive as some that I've seen, it was still fun to finally get to experience one. Now, to see how many of those others I can check off my list.