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Near catastrophe at Pirate Bay January 1, 2008

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Let’s just say it was hot! Yesterday it reached 42°C (108°F) and it seemed that Pirate Bay was the worst beach to set our tent upon for a New Years Eve celebration. But what made this adventure a potential threat? Let me fill in the blanks.

Firstly, the cumbersome gear we loaded our bodies with and trudged through loose sand to fulfill some idealistic vision of how New Years Eve ’should’ be celebrated. By the time we’d walked along the pestilent pathway, we sought nothing more than the ocean itself, yet we were still so far from it. Simply the weight of what we carried to the beach, was not something to be done in sweltering heat and each step taunted us. From the low cliff, I angrily threw the gear down to the sand and feeling faint, climbed down to go set up the tent. The ability to look out for our puppy – being so very much smaller, could be carried out or drown in the undertow – made the experience even less enjoyable; he was as exhausted as we were. Furthermore, we were lamenting the 2.5Litre water supply we brought, not enough for two people in such conditions and with Zappy to consider, that water dispersed quickly.

Feeling possibly the worst of us all, Special K had to exorcise some demons behind the dunes and as I carried the entire collection of crap to an unshaded spot on very hot sand, I could not simply stand it any longer; I needed to find shade and located a small cutting in the crumbling sandstone cliff. Though I noticed the spider webs strung out and hanging like vines between the crags, I pushed it out of my mind, what mattered was survival. Zappy lay at my feet, breathless, while I took some water and shared it with our puppy. Special K returned exhausted, teary and wanting very much for the idea to remain of a perfect champagne NYE. After more water, I threw myself out into the heat and set up the tent with help from Special K. It really was pointless, the tent was hotter than the beach itself and all it accomplished was to sap our strength even further. Zappy was entertained as long as he didn’t go anywhere near the water; the tide frightened him. We were just happy to have some cold water around our legs, but it would not suffice. It became a moment of choice – dehydration and fainting with possible death thrown in or load up, get back to the car and go rejoin civilisation. We opted for the latter.

Though even in such potentially dangerous conditions, evidentially our love for each other proved the selflessness of our characters, i.e. we put our partner before ourselves. ‘I want you to have a mouthful’ my dear lady said, after I’d argued the point. This beautiful interchange made us even more determined to get back and kiss with full lips.

Foolish, over weighed and under prepared, the path back was more painful than the trip down. Zappy was panting and stopping every few metres for a rest and I carried him when I could. I kept a watchful eye on Special K, who looked extremely weak, I was no better. Over the dunes, two surfies walked past, the first bloke passed without comment though obviously noticing our status; the second asked if our puppy was alright. I told him we’d run out of water. A helping hand these days is hard to find, so we were taken aback when he gave us some water and carried half our stuff to the car park. I had no intention to resist, his help restored our faith in human decency. We thanked him expressively and wished him a prosperous New Year. He patted me on the shoulder and said ‘find a tap and drink until you’re okay to drive. Happy New Year.’ It will be now, I thought.

We spent a good half an hour refilling and resting. A teary eyed Special K said ‘I’m so glad you were with me, I don’t know what I’d do without you!’ I likened Special K to a sandcastle; visually strong, but crumblingly soft and mushy under pressure. The fact is, we are both unfit, unhealthy and unready for such an idea as ludicrous as what we had undertaken. All I wanted was to find a milk bar and fill up again and I voiced this concern to Special K ‘the best thing for us now is isotonic and water.’ We headed off, back toward Rye and came across a general store on the corner of the round-a-bout. Buying two bottles of Gatorade and a small sampling of sandwiches – they were snapped up in seconds. Following the snack, I had a strange feeling of disorientation…I am never disorientated. I always have a ‘feeling’ which direction north is situated and thus, which direction back to Melbourne. When I turned left at the T intersection ahead, I was expecting to see the bay on my left, not the right. It was not merely a shock, I felt like we were in a different part of Australia.

The heat by now was passing, a cool change looked to strike. But the fact was it was getting late, toward sunset. Every beach along Mornington Peninsula was packed. Every car park full. We parked beside the road, past Rosebud East and had a late lunch along a beach path, under some shade. Zappy was glad of the salmon flesh and basil dip and anyone that looked to walk nearby our vicinity and threaten his pack’s feeding got a little Zappy yappy bark and grumble. ‘Rrrrrr Rrrrrr Yip!’

Special K was rehydrated and feeling well, I felt better after some food and agreed to swim in the bay. We left our belongings atop a fort-like digging, some kids had obviously made. I thought it’d be funny, Zappy could protect the fort. Initially I left him sitting on our beach mat, next to the heavy backpack and he sat there guarding the ‘home’ as Special K and I submerged ourselves. I was thankful for wearing the rashie as it cooled me quicker when the wind blew and I suggested Special K should get one also. As the evening approached, nothing looked more appealing than going home and resting. Lying on the floor, watching the Melbourne fireworks on TV (it really was average compared to Sydney’s extravaganza. Let me elucidate, fireworks are usually only good to see in person, we were watching and saying ‘Oh my god, this is incredible’. Compare that to the shitty and ditsy songs from my home town). We felt extremely tested and worn – so much so, that New Years Eve passed without much inclination to celebrate, though we need not worry about next year, it will be incredible!

Sunken Treasure December 27, 2007

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Nervous but intent, we arrived at Frankston beach. It was not necessarily hot, but rather warm and the staggeringly beautiful conditions were perfect for what I had in mind for the afternoon come twilight conclusion. Within moments of plonking our gear upon the sand, ‘Special K’ starts rummaging through the side-pocket of my backpack. A sensation of alarm rose through my spine, my dreams of fruition this day, this night, quashed upon her possible discovery. A tentative inconspicuous performance prevented her from stumbling upon the secret.

‘Let me put your glasses away for you, Tash!’ Phew! I sighed as she flip-flopped away toward the water in our new snorkeling gear.

The determination as not to draw excessive attention to a valuable object, I placed the polished wooden box in a sealable bag and slipped it into my shorts pocket. She looked back and saw me heading toward the water with flippers and snorkel in hand. A closer observation would reveal a protruding lump from my leg pocket, but even from her vicinity – without her glasses – Special K could not see very well.

Truly, the water was perfect; warm yet refreshingly cool in places. The sun perched upon the cliffs of Olivers Hill, waiting almost in anticipation of the surprise itself. Special K was a fair way out, though she did not realise it at that stage. The tide was low, it seemed to take forever to get to some decent depth and all the while I held on to my pocket tightly hoping the item didn’t dislodge. When the water reached the top of my chest, I called out to Special K.

‘Tash, there’s something shining underwater here! It could be some sunken treasure!’ I dived under to make it look like I was grabbing it from the sea floor, but while under, brought the bag out of my pocket.

She headed back toward me, rather astonished she’d been out so far and declared ‘What’s that?’ She thought I’d stumbled onto some junkie’s hidden stash. When she was a foot or two away from me, she could plainly see it was a box of some description. She really was fooled, she had no idea what was inside, until I said ‘I think you should open it.’ At which point, her eyes dilated and as soon as she opened the box and saw the three diamond engagement ring, she knew from that moment, that this was a very special day for a very Special K.

‘Will you marry me Tash?’ to which she replied ‘Yes, yes, oh god yes!’

Following the very successful proposal, we swam together hand-in-hand hovering above a rummaging Banjo Shark (possibly trying to find its bag of drugs), adjacent a school of King George Whiting and a Port Phillip Swimmer Crab trying to bury itself before we passed overhead.

new gear makes all the difference December 9, 2007

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New Snorkeling Gear

Uncertain of how to walk, let alone swim in our new ‘top-notch’ snorkeling gear, we trod backwards into the tide. I think the steady motion of the waves and the protruding flippers kept our balance. The new gear came at a great cost, though I believe through all our underwater experiences, it was well worth the amount spent and soon afterward that realisation became apparent. It could naturally be expected, with the greater length and surface area of the professional flippers that our swimming speed can be greatly enhanced.

This took some getting used to: for a start, the flippers were a little loose and so adjustments were a common affair, even in deeper water; the flippers slapped together on each successive motion and the momentum was lost, this meant some careful coordination to provide greater thrust; undeveloped muscles and difficult movements previously unused resulted in chafing and rapid deterioration of energy. It took a good few hours to devise some powerful movements and when these were performed, the speed and ease of gliding through the water was amazing. Couple that with superior goggles, which allow us to see a greater depth of field and properly seal against leaks, it’s the makings of a recipe of fun.

Most importantly, the snorkel allows three great new features, I had otherwise in my ignorance, little understanding about: a shut-off valve at the top of the breathing apparatus, which prevents the intake of copious water; jettison valve at the base of the snorkel, to release any water caught in the snorkel; looks really cool.

With this upgrade in technology we were able to swim out further to explore and experiment with our gear. It was late afternoon again, not as late as the previous story, but late enough to have lost a great deal of sunlight, even for such an overcast day. The depth still scares me and more so the unknown lurking beyond the navy curtain. At this part of Canadian Bay, the beach is ruptured in sand bars and slanting rock slides, so that swimming horizontally seems somewhat like diagonally. It was during this confusing optical illusion of the sand bank, that a school of tiny fish some thousand strong charged past. Flabbergasted to say the least, they seemed almost tropical in their colour and markings, as such with fright and an unexpected curiosity, I expelled numerous bubbles through the base of the snorkel. They darted quickly, averting the docile cloud of streaming bubbles, this caught Miss Tash off guard. Like birds, they flew in perfect formation, even during the relentless stirring I displayed and secretly I lament; had I brought a skewer, I’d have enough to make at least one fish finger. Other than this, the left-hand side of the bay was surprisingly dull. Reefs of seaweed and vegetation were devastated by the swarming starfish, littered almost in piles amongst outcroppings of lithospheric examples.

From a previous trip to this same area, we knew that the other side of the bay had two piers and a greater, flatter expanse to explore. It was now approaching dusk and getting rather ‘cool’, when Miss Tash and I delved further out toward the blackened shelf of mollusk encrusted poles supporting the minor pier. The unnerving darkness beneath the pier got the better of Miss Tash as she would not swim too close, but my curiosity could not pull me away. One could not simply believe the amount of crap lying under that pier; tyres, pistons, engines, crates, bolts, nuts, hooks and concrete slabs with people tied to them; the usual stuff. We took off toward a sweeping hill of sea vegetation, all decimated and rotten, this held no appeal whatsoever.

Panic stricken, as my flipper came loose, I grappled the strap back on and tightened the harness. With the momentum gathered from deft movements to catch up with Miss Tash, I adopted the motion of a dolphin, by clasping my feet together and bobbing my head up and down, this actually worked quite well. During this, a small fish launched from beneath the sand away from my looming shadow, quickly followed by numerous others at shorter intervals. I knew these as toad fish and only just worked out why they were called this: they look like toads hiding in the sand and they’re ugly.

We swam around a little longer until dusk, when Melbourne decided summer had to make way for winter this night. Shivering uncontrollably, I lurched icily into Mt. Eliza fish and chippery for some evening grub, where they were kind enough to deactivate the air conditioning long enough to prepare the meal. Awesome chips and an even more remarkable day.

heat exchanger December 1, 2007

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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.