One day, a very long time ago now, about
last Friday…
Stop!
Stop! Stop! Sorry, that’s from Winnie the Pooh
About a couple of years ago, Mum, Lochlann,
and I went down to Battery Rocks in Penzance with Dylan, a friend of ours, and
his mum. The tide happened to be a spring low[1]
and you could see all the boulders that were usually covered by the sea.
The
water was even below the lower barnacle line. Dylan suggested wading out over
the shallows to a line of rocks, so we rolled up our trousers and began. We
soon came back to take off our trousers and wade in our pants! At first we
waded only to our knees, then we got more adventurous and went in all the way.
We got to the rocks and then swam back through the shallows.
All around
us there was a type of seaweed growing in clumps. It looked like very long, flattened
strings of light brown spaghetti each clomp growing from the same root, and when
you wrapped them around yourself, they actually felt slightly warm. Later I
found out that they were called Thongweed, and that the spaghetti is actually
their reproductive system, which is shed in autumn.
Once
we had got back to the shore, we met several other friends and went up to my
house for some snorkeling gear. I found a sort of armless and legless rash-vest,
made out of wetsuit material (which I assumed had belonged to my brother,
Oliver) and a mask and snorkel that I had never before used in the sea. When we
got back, our friends showed us how to spit into your mask to stop it from steaming
up (it works!) Then we entered a
new world - beyond my imagining.
It
was my first proper time snorkeling in the sea, and I loved it. It was like a
different world. I saw the reddy-brown Bladder Wrack seaweed, with their gas
filled bobbles to lift them up from the rocks, the clumps of Thongweed, the
bright green Sea-lettuce and purple Coral-weed, and, best of all, the Snakelock
anemones, their tentacles a beautiful green, tipped with purple. It was amazing
that all of this incredible world could have been there all along, hidden just
a few meters away, under the slate-grey
surface of the sea.
After
that I went snorkeling every day I could in the summer. We saw wrasse two-feet
long, we found pipefish under rocks at spring lows, and with them were green
sea urchins and suckerfish guarding their eggs. Spider crabs were frequent
discoveries, and spiny starfish, each arm six inches or more long, could
sometimes be found in great
profusion on top of, and in, the large fronds of ??seaweed??.
On one very special occasion while swimming
along quite close to the rocks, I looked up, and hanging in the water two feet
away from my face, was a sphere composed of six lines of pulsing, multicoloured
light, each line meeting the others at the poles, the whole thing no bigger
than the first two joints of my index finger. These lines of multicolored light
enclosed a transparent sphere of jelly that trailed a pair of tentacles. The
whole thing was almost invisible, so invisible that on pointing it out to my
friend I had to point to it with both hands to indicate its exact position in
the water. They were Comb Jelly, also called Sea Gooseberry.
Later that summer, on our travels in Europe
we happened to be going through Greece. En route we stopped off at a campsite
where we stayed for a couple of days. While there we went snorkeling several
times a day. On the first day we swam out rather far when I saw an old tyre
lying on the bottom, and an empty beer bottle on its side. I dived. It was very
deep, so deep that I had to breathe out a bit through my nose to equalize my mask.
Then
I saw it, just at the base of the old bottle, two beautiful eyes with sideways
pupils on top of a mound of flesh. As I came closer, the octopus retreated down
lower into the sand, watching me with those beautiful eyes. It was as if the top and bottom of each
pupil was pulled almost together, but not quite, similar to a figure of eight
on its side.
The eyes of octopi have, I think (though I could be wrong) evolved independently of vertebrate’s eyes.
The eyes of octopi have, I think (though I could be wrong) evolved independently of vertebrate’s eyes.
Later
I saw a small cuttlefish, about 5 inches long. It was a sandy white and was
moving surprisingly fast considering that its only form of propulsion was the
thin membrane that ran the length of its flattened body. When I came close, it descended
to just above the seabed and then amazed me by sending black stripes rippling down
its back. Then it shot away in reverse using its jet propulsion and shooting out
a tiny white cloud of what I can only assume to be ink.
One
day, while my brother Lochlann and I were out snorkeling with our friends Teague
and Annis at Battery Rocks, we were surprised to see, just
a meter away, an enormous jellyfish with a bell at least 3 feet across.
It
was a misty semi-transparent white going into a blue that seemed to originate
deep inside its bell. A band of bright electric blue ran round the edge of its bell.
It looked eerily calm as it propelled its mindless way through the water. I
swam in front of it and touched its great bell with my gloved hand, it was
terrifyingly solid and heavy.
We
found out later that they were called barrel jellyfish and that although they
are the largest found in England they apparently do not sting, though I have
never got around to finding out for myself.
After
that we often saw them swimming around aimlessly, Teague nearly dived into one
off the rocks one day but managed to stop in time.
They seemed to have been concentrated all along the southwest cost of
England as I also saw them in the Helford River, and my aunt told me she
had seen them in Falmouth while gig rowing.
Another
day when only Teague and I
were snorkeling, we had decided to get in off the small beach on the east side
of Battery Rocks. We swam out over the seaweed and then over the sand, it was
very clear. Just off from the beach there were about five yellow buoys for yachts
to pickup while waiting for the wet-dock’s gates to open. Today there were two boats
there. As we reached them Teague said he was rather tired and so we were about
to go back, but decided just to swim under the nearest boat first. So that is
what we did. Just as I was getting my breath back on the other side of the boat
I looked up and there on the horizon, a dolphin jumped.
I
stared, then excitement seemed to loosen my joints and make its presence felt
in my stomach[2].
“Olphiiin!!!, olphin, olphin, olphin”
“What?”
“Olphins!”
“Dolphins!!!”
“Dolphins? Really, where?”
“Over there”
“Dolphins? Really, where?”
“Over there”
I pointed.
“Are you sure?” he said sceptically.
“Are you sure?” he said sceptically.
That was when we saw the second one jump.
“Haharr”
we laughed with delight.
“Come
on”
“What swim towards them?”
“What swim towards them?”
“Yes!! What else do you think we should
do?”
Our eyes shone with
excitement. We began to swim towards where the dolphins were diving. They
weren’t that far away now. Suddenly they disappeared, then reappeared in
another patch of water in a different direction. We swam furiously, any thought
of tired ankles forgotten. The dolphins changed place again, then again, then
they were coming towards us.
Suddenly
a dolphin dived out of the water barely two meters ahead us. It was thrilling
and wonderful and terrifying, all at the same time. For a single instant as it re-entered
the water our eyes met. Then they were gone off towards the St Michael’s Mount.
Great story, Fin! Love the beginning!
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