The ocean's glittering path is not a beam laid across the water. It is a shifting collection of reflections, each sent toward the eye by a different patch of wave. The distinction matters. A smooth surface would show a single reflected image of the sun, not a trail of scattered light.
The apparent path owes its length to disorder. Each wave carries small facets tilted at different angles, and a facet flashes when its orientation satisfies the law of reflection: the angle of incidence equals the angle of reflection. Farther along the water, a different tilt can send sunlight toward the same eye. The facets keep moving. Their flashes appear and vanish so quickly that the eye gathers them into a broken, shimmering strip. A change in viewpoint changes which facets can contribute, so the path is not fixed to one stretch of sea. Its width and texture depend on the distribution of wave slopes, as well as the sun's apparent size and height.
The pink sky has a separate cause, though it colors the same scene. When the sun is low, its light travels through more atmosphere; Rayleigh scattering removes more short wavelength blue light from the direct beam, leaving warmer colors that clouds and airborne particles can scatter toward the eye. Conditions vary, and a low sun does not guarantee a pink sky. Nor does every wave flash look pink: the water reflects light from both the sun and the surrounding sky. What seems a road to the horizon is a pattern assembled at the eye, and remade with every wave.
