Because Dusty isn't always there and because, when she is, an effective way to draw her attention is to ignore her, I like to dwell on what else is sleeping on the seabed. In the last but one paragraph of Dolphin Address 15 I described the beauty of the subscape at the drop. What irked me was, that I may give a lyrical inventory of what I see, but that I lack in the more abstract aspects. Notably the spacial dimension. And that has always been a crucial feature of my swimming. That from the surface perspective, to which we are fettered by gravity, you can descend into a three dimensional space where, unburdened by your own weight, you can fly to wherever your breath keeps you.
As I child I used to avoid my grandparents on Sunday, for if I got caught I had to go to church with them. But sometimes there was no escape. Immune to the rhetoric of the vicar and inspired by the void of idleness my eyes would wander up towards the arches. I imagined there to be the waiting room to heaven and fancied, that if the church was filled with water I could swim up after my eyes.
In my diving decade, the nineties, I projected my underwater enthousiasm upon a submerged version of the city of Groningen. I would dive from the top floor of a department store into the central square, make a drift dive from the top of shop street and a balloon ascent at the local coffee shop. And the like.
To visually render the spacial dimension I went into the water at Doolin Harbour yestermorning with my video camera mounted upon the waterwing. It was deep ebb and I figured this would shorten my way down by about five metres. To be sure I first went over to the pier to see if the water was clear and then it looked all right. No Dusty, but the day was still young.
But when I wanted to enter the water I was met with a rocking blanket of seaweed. It got lumpier the further I went in and turned into a massive goo of confetti weed. Because there are some mean boulders there that were totally obscured by the slow pulp I downed into it and pushed myself against the bottom to the release of the deep. Once there I freed myself of all entanglements and made for the drop. The visibility proved downright disappointing and to not have to crawl on my belly across the shallows I followed the edge of the ferry route. I had expected that the viz would clear upon moving away from the harbour, but it didn't. I swam through fields of froth and hoped that in the deep the water would be clearer, as often had been the case at White Strand. Once there this proved only so in small measure, but also that the clouded upper layer took away most of the sunlight. Moreover no Dusty nowhere to be seen. Discombobulated I turned on my strokes.
Back at the harbour there was still no Dusty around so with fins hanging I decided to head back to the beach. There the heave had rather surged and a churning, heavily textured soup swept me about with avalanche momentum. Even when after hard effort I had undone my monofin I was swept off my feet several times. Finally, exhausted and like an outrageously weed-cluttered sea monster I staggered on to solid ground. What misery. I felt like an undesirable alien, expelled from paradise.
Since I am kept from portraying the beauty of the subscape in images I seek my refuge in music. The following lyrics are based upon a song that holds no secrets for ex hairmates who know their classics. Outsiders and infidels are to google the Beatles to appreciate the origin of this ode:
The girl with the smile in her eye
Picture yourself floating over a city
with spires and high rises that reach for the sky
relish the thrill of this three-D perspective
where gravity does not apply
Down on a deep breath and sail through a dale
silence weighs down on your ears
blow on your nose and the pressure is gone
and she's there:
Dusty gliding by with a smile on
Dusty gliding by with a smile on
Dusty gliding by with a smile on
Ah…ah…
Sea urchins clamber themselves to a kelp weed
where wrasse and pollock reluctantly hide
sand eels in millions flash silvery sparkles
like diamonds in lucid high skies
Jellies swerve by in a transparent laze
a bass looks at you from a cave
far above undulates light of the day
but she's gone.
Dusty hiding sly with a smile on
Dusty hiding sly with a smile on
Dusty hiding sly with a smile on
Ah…ah…
Bubbles expand on your way to the surface
where breathing awaits you abundantly so
Suddenly there is the dolphin behind you
the girl with the trouble-free soul.
Dusty turns your sigh to a smile-on
Dusty turns your troubles to bygones
Dusty turns you selflessly high on
Ah…ah...