A week off
Well, for a few days I find myself back on the farm, doing lots of little jobs to help the world carry on turning. Well, the little bit of the world that is Northfield anyway.
Today the flow looked like a mirror as we drive towards Stromness to move the boat from one berth to another. Some days the dive boats out on the fleet look like tiny toys lost in a steely gray infinity. Other days they seem so close that if i shouted loudly the divers would turn to see. Sometimes Hoy is the same. From certain views it seems distant, almost smaller than it really is. Other times it looms over Stromness and the flow like a sleepy giant, lazily surveying all that lies below its rocky slopes.
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Well, due to a severe lack of funds, the holiday to somewhere warm has been consigned to the dustbin. Maybe next year.
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After many people said i should submit an article to the diving press, I did. Sitting with baited breath, the email landed in the inbox……and it was a polite no thanks which read very much like a standardised response to when people submit an article - its great, but not what we are looking for right now. Uh huh. So a few weeks later i put together another bit of something and send that off too. Another no thanks followed suit. So i tried. Maybe i am not destined to have my words put into print. Hell, you get to read the uncensored, un-spelling-mistake-corrected version on here for free! Hurrah!
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It has been years since i dived out of a rib. I did all my training diving out of one, many moons ago, so when the opportunity arose to dive with Kevin Heath, a thoroughly nice bloke who has a total and utter dedication to finding and identifying wrecks, i nearly ran all the way to Stromness to hug him and say YES PLEASE! Kevin has his own rib, and since the boaty will be doing a whole load of bugger all from a week from now, it seems like an excellent way of keeping diving over the winter. All we need to do is run the engine to run the compressor, we can even use the lift to lower gear into it. Hurrah for easy diving! I dont really want to dive a new wreck for the “glory” or for the spidge (thats the tatt people bring up off them to let rust in their garage), because wrecks really dont do an awful lot for me. They have to be a “special” kind of wreck. I enjoy reading and learning about the human aspect of a wrecking. Who were the people who worked on this ship, how did it end up at the bottom of the sea and is this really the wreck people think it is? Im a fussy moo too, i like them to still look like a boat. Hopefully diving with Kevin will allow us all to keep wet over the winter, and for him to look at some marks he has been working on.
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A year ago someone left my life. It amazes me how much a part of who i am this person actually influenced. Splicing a rope, i cant help but let my mind wander. I recall him showing me how to push the strands over and under, and i am still utterly incapable of doing a crown knot for an end splice.
I remember the passion he had for everything he loved, and i remember the day it all ended. The surf was huge, a strong easterly wind had piled the grey water up into huge rollers which crashed with their fury onto the beach. Kayak surfing is something i was never good at, but i did enjoy playing in the soup. But he was a natural, choosing the wave with fearless vigour, paddling like mad until the surge picks you up and launches you forward, the acceleration pushing you back against the back rest in the kayak. I remember that day as i was unable to even get to the soup, the waves even here were too unpredictable for me. The yellow boat, sat on the drying sand, seeing the paddler within it struggle to even get themselves free from the leg braces inside the plastic shell. I recall the air thick with swearing, the agony etched on his face as the vertebrae in his back finally gave up. From then on the passion was gone. He swore never to get into a boat again, something i could never ever do. That took courage, to give up something you love to allow you to stay mobile.
Years later we shared fishing trips from a friends boat, but the fire had gone from inside. Maybe it was the knowledge of what he was missing. I will never know. This was only a small part of the reasons why he took his own life. But he lives on in all of us who knew and loved him.
Rest now, we will never forget you.