LUCKY # 12

THE DANGERS OF THE SEA


I live right next to the sea. At the bottom of our drive I can walk across a narrow, little used dead end road to step into the water (at high tide). I am learning to swim properly at last. I do have swimming certificates from Marist Newtown but in the width one I had one foot on the bottom of the pool and in the length one I kept my face in the water and went the entire length without breathing - a skill that has been useful in one form of lovemaking. Growing up in Wellington with the ice-cold beaches facing out to Cook Straight, swimming was not the first choice leisure activity. Sinking in my first canoe at Princess Bay (it was made out of roofing iron) didn't exactly inspire me with confidence.
As a result I never learned to swim properly. I wasn't scared of the water, I still floated down rivers, played in swimming pools and dived off diving boards but I just floated and flapped until reaching the edges.

Lucky 12 ( a )


In 1972 I went to visit my sister in Perth. Bill Bryson in his book Down Under says that Australia has more things to kill you than all the rest of the countries in the world put together. After some country visits on deserted farms dodging snakes and spiders I went swimming. Now I'm a whimp when it comes to getting into the water but this was the Indian Ocean. The water was warm and inviting. Inviting enough for me to venture out of my depth, lazing around, floating and flapping. At one point I experimented with sinking down to try and touch the bottom, enjoying the crystal clarity of the water. I did this several times until, the last time, my sinking was arrested by landing on something. Not the bottom. Not a submarine. Something very big, very long and grey. Fuck! I spluttered to the surface and struck out for (hopefully) the shore. My frenzied splashing and thrashing should have excited any shark but I like to think that it bewildered and scared it. I didn't time myself but I'm sure that it was the fastest I have ever swum and maybe even faster than most other people I know.
I didn't venture into the water for the rest of my holiday.

Lucky 12 (b) 


In 1985 I went for a two week holiday in Tonga. I was on my own and, after I had been there for a week on a tiny island (Atata) I had explored all there was to explore on land and had taken all the photos of myself that I wanted to

it was time to venture further out to sea. I learned to sail a hoby cat - a small sailed catamaran which was fun. The 100 acre island was a four hour launch ride off Tonga and didn't have a reef. It was smack in the middle of the big blue Pacific.

I also tried to learn to wind sail. I took one of them out and spent a few hours trying to master standing on it and working the sail. Eventually I got it up and going and with a good off-shore wind was skidding along pretty well. Excited by this I didn't take enough notice of the rapidly disappearing island behind me. When I did and saw the tiny dot in the middle of the Pacific I thought that I had better get back there. Unfortunately I hadn't mastered the skill of turning so I had to jump off the board. Manoeuvring it around to face back the way I came and climbing back on I realised that I also hadn't mastered the art of sailing into the wind. I spent an hour trying to get the sail to take me back to the island to no avail. I jumped back into the water and paddled/pushed the board and sail from behind. The sail dragging in the water didn't help at all and it was slow progress. It took me several hours of doing this and the afternoon became late afternoon - threatening to become evening. As the island was more visible and I was about a half mile off I began to feel relieved. A kayak came out with two of the staff from the resort who asked if I needed help. I explained that I couldn't manage the board and so one of the guys took it to sail it back. The other asked if I wanted a ride in but I said no, I would swim it. Why did I say that? All my life I have said stupid things like that - still do. The Old girl gets frustrated when I refuse to ask for directions whether on the road or in stores. Its a man thing I guess. When the two guys had gone I realised that the water was still really deep and that I was more tired than I had previously thought. I began to breaststroke, then dog paddled, then floated and generally splashed and flapped. I was done in. I was beginning to more frequently sink below the water and began to get frightened. I was making very slow progress but just kept trying to stay on top. At a point when honestly I thought that I was gone my toes touched the bottom. The sense of relief was incredible, not unlike touching the ground on my first parachute jump. I scrambled up the beach and lay flat on my back gasping air for about a half hour. Life had never felt so good.

My brother drowned in Wellington harbour and I often think of how he must have felt as he was going under for the last time.