The small boat stops becalmed in the middle of the sea, I climb overboard and swim away, then return towards the bow and together we move forwards at the same speed through the water.
The horizon stays at the same distance however far we move towards it. We are sailing forwards but remain in the absolute centre of a disk.
Learning to swim front crawl taught me how to breathe, how to stop salt water flooding down my nose making me choke at every breath.
I breath every two strokes, sometimes every three, whilst my view shifts from the underwater world, cuts through the crumpled surface light and sees the water level and the sky in a second before returning underwater.
Conscious of the responsibility that I am my own engine, as I breathe out through my nose the bubbles rise past my ears with a loud pressure.
The sun is extremely bright around noon so I have to use all three shades on the sextant telescope as I pull down the sun to rest its lower limb on the horizon.
Sleeping on deck ... the sun sets, the moon rises, the moon sets, the planets follow it across the sky, the sun rises ... the sun sets, the moons rises, the planets follow it, the sun rises, the moon sets .... the sun sets, the planets follow it, the moon rises, the sun rises, the moon sets ...
As I walk I remember, and the more I walk the more I remember incidents that I never thought memorable.
[ 1 comment ] ( 36 views )
Archives
