Dolphin Address 34 2003
September 17, 2003
Because 'Snorkeling with monofin and waterwing' is a somewhat roundabout description, some time ago I made up the word 'powersnorkeling'. It is a combination that may sound odd, but it does give a versatile cover. It does not only refer to the powerful thrust of the monofin. It also refers to that the angle in which the wing is moved up and down is related to the thrust that is thereby exerted. By tilting the wing it will by itself steer up- or downward. It's up to you how powerful you push or heave.
Also the labor stroke is simultaneously the recovery stroke for the next labor stroke. Only in the tilt-moment a tiny bit of labor gets lost.
Another reference lies in the power of the waves. Last year I calculated that a bit of a wave weighs around 7 tons. To wash with it you have to choose the right moment. Just like the water pressure tells me the right moment to empty my snorkel, the rhythm of the waves tell me the right moment to push. Once into this dance not just sheer power counts, but mainly the heading for the surge.
Today was not my day. All of my 8 pairs of 2 mil neoprene socks seriously and nearly irreparably leaking. The sand seems to know this. It worms at once to pressure points like toes and instep and starts to grate out the classical 'round wound'. It is a dismal feeling and every effort to wash it out spreads it only further. I dare and cannot swim to the full like this.
Foto: Verena Schwalm
But I did depart from Bridie's beach, even though the viz was a fizz. Up to Pollenawatch. The outward journey was, as usual, a solitary one, a bit listless, because my heart was not in it. At P-watch there were some Irishmen in the water and a canoe, unknown to me, was having Dusty in the bow wave with a proud smile. On my deepest breath I swam a Guinness-book-of-records-length under water back with Dusty on my side. The canoe did not stand a chance.
She must have noticed it was not my day. She often swims a bit behind on my left side, right at the spot of my painful lumbago. This time I looked slightly downwards and then she slit, like a Star Trek heavenly body in seemingly slo-mo, under me. I felt the suction of her body and with unwordable ease I sped forth, in the arms of gravity and the Bernouille-effect of Dusty.
Jan Ploeg, Fanore meadow, September 17th 2003
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