heat exchanger

The stifling humidity was the driving force behind our decision to hit the bay with snorkels in hand. I was tired anyway, from lack of sleep the previous night and the impact of a stressful implant on Friday, not to mention feeling dehydrated. By the time we arrived at the southern-most beach of Canadian Bay, we wasted no time and dived under the luke-warm water.

A dancing array of sunlight laced the ribbed lungs of submerged sand, slowly the depths showed their true colours. Of particular interest were the large rocky areas, housing small schools of toad fish and some strange worm-like suckers. Venturing further this time, it was frightening. Normally I like to be submerged in water just over my head, today we reached depths three times my height; it was a big step. Simply the spaciousness below my feet and the unknown murky darkness beyond the wavering reefs, caused me to panic. Tash tried to gain my attention to a school of some hundred fish deep ahead and though I knew with more exposure this fear would disperse, I desired to swim breathless back to shore, with Tash in tow.

It was a small beach, no more than fifty metres across, but below the unseen surface lay much to see and we were happy to have seen something more than sea-cucumber eggs and banjo shark offspring as found at Frankston beach. In the shallows, I felt easier and waded out a little way; the water was becoming increasingly icy as dusk approached. Shivering underwater, we had to emerge into the blasting wind. It took the better half of an hour to bring life back into our frosty bodies.