On Tuesdays I have neither class nor work. This past Tuesday, I decided to forgo all studying and go on a nice bike ride. Bikes are nice in that when you see something interesting on the side of the road, you usually have about two minutes before you reach it to decide whether or not you actually want to spend time investigating what this interesting thing might be, whereas in cars the usual scenario is, "Hey, look at that, 'Turn Here and You Will Immediately Be Given 1 Million Dollars?' Maybe we should go--- shoot, too late." Actually, I still tend to have this problem, since in my mind the thought process goes, "Hey, look at that, a road leading to the river. I've wanted to go see the river, but should I go see the river? Gosh, I wanted to, but should I?" This continues for some time as I peddle my little bike a long, and then I realize that as with the car, I am passing the turn off and the option is thenceforward rendered impossible (whoa, I thought I made up the word "thenceforward" but as it turns out, it actually is a word, and I did in fact use it correctly.) Anyway, back to my story. I'm riding my bike, and I see a turn off, and I actually had enough time to decide that yes, I did want to turn down that road. This little road I turned off onto ran past the horse racing track (another one I've been wanting to visit but for some reason didn't) and down into some abandoned sports fields. I rode along this, enjoying the sereneness of the situation, pretty trees and green grass, when I ended up at the river. I dismounted my bike and creeped up to the edge of the river, very fearful of crocodiles (they do have them here, in the river), and nearly had a heart attack when I heard a rustle (Russell?) in the bushes and thought it was a killer crocodile out to snap me up in one bite. It wasn't anything actually, so I made my way to the river and took pictures.
I continued on my bike ride shortly thereafter and soon found myself in Kershaw Gardens, a nice little botanical gardens/park in the middle of town. I rode through and got really excited when I thought I had found Sadie's house.
Wow I amuse myself.
Anyway, the bike ride ended soon after this, as did the excitements of Tuesday (you know it was so exciting).
Then comes Saturday (don't ask about the days in between. I have what some people like to call a job, which takes up lots of my time. But I do like it, I enjoy working and the people there are cool, but there isn't much to say in regards to blogging about it.) I had learned Friday that I would be going scuba diving on Saturday, and that I was to wait at a bus stop on Saturday morning.
I soon became bored of waiting, and what does a bored Cassie do? That's right Annalies, a bored Cassie takes pictures of herself jumping!
Then the other boy who was coming diving showed up, so I was forced to cease my picture taking. We waited for some time and realized that the bus was at that point 20 minutes late, so we called scuba instructor and he came and picked us up and reprimanded us for not waiting at the correct bus stop (it wasn't a bus stop, just where part of the road got about five feet wider.) Then we drove for about half an hour and arrived at Yeppoon, the coastal town where the boat was docked. At the dock we met up with all the other awesome scuba divers (anybody who has gone through PADI's scuba certification course will understand that statement) and waited for the boat to come, which it did. When I noticed the name, Sea Lover, I commented, "Ooh, that's a provocative little name now isn't it." Nobody laughed. Not even me.
So our trip commenced. I knew neither where the dive sight was nor how long it would take to get to it. The boat began rocking a bit, you know, average little boat rocking in the ocean as it zooms along. The rocking became more like the violent thrashing of an untamed warthog. Okay, not so much like that, but it was pretty severe. Basically if you weren't holding on to something you faced a very real risk of falling down. A very real risk. Okay, I'm struggling here to explain how intense the boat ride was. Really, it was pretty intense. Like, 15 foot swells (not exaggerating) that we were climbing up, then suddenly dropping off. Get it yet? Okay, fine, here are some pictures of me dealing with the intensity.
Also, ignore the man in the background. I really don't know why he doesn't look more tossed about. Maybe it's the totally ripped biceps.
During the boat ride, I noticed a pretty spectacle to my left and struggled to retrieve my camera (it was dangerous removing my hands from their holds to extract the camera from its case) to photograph this beautiful image. After about 30 tries, I finally came up with a picture expressing the true beauty of what was happening.
We arrived at the dive site about 1 1/2 hour after commencing on our trip, and my arms were sufficiently exhausted from holding on for dear life for the entire length of the trip. I dove the first dive with the instructor and two other students and was basically freezing the entire time. When I finally made it back to the boat I shivered for the next hour or so. The rest of the awesome divers noticed my shivering and one of them lent me his hood and gloves for the second dive and the instructor allowed me to use another wetsuit in addition to the one I already had on. I was very hesitant to get in the water again but when I did, I learned very quickly what ample insulation can do for the enjoyment of a dive. When I ran out of air I was terribly disappointed that the dive was over, but I was reassured by the knowledge that I get to go again this Saturday.
The other divers returned shortly from their dives and one group brought with them a beautifully colored crawfish. I was very amused by this, but wondered why they had taken it out of its natural habitat (divers tend to be extreme environmentalists). They placed the little creature on the console in front of the steering wheel and I sat next to it, wondering what was going on in its little brain. Another guy came into the cabin and reached for something on the console and instead grasped the little crawfish and I heard the terrifying crunch of the little thing breaking apart in his violent, unintending grip. The guy seemed unaware of what he had done and simply grabbed what he needed and left as I stared, horror struck, at the poor thing that had experienced probably the worst day ever. Several others in the cabin agreed. At this point I began to feel sea sick (it wasn't the rocking of the boat either) and went outside to get fresh air, and to get away from the now bent in half body of the once beautiful creature. Minutes later my dive instructor came out with the dead thing in his hand to show it to me. I was rather disgusted as he held it in front of me, wondering what had happened to the sanctity of life, when he nonchalantly explained that he had retrieved it for his daughter and that this was not the animal at all, but its shell. The real one had ditched this little exoskeleton and was safe at the bottom of the ocean, uncrunched and continuing on in its happy life. After investigating the not-animal I simply responded with, "Well, now I feel stupid." People laughed that time.
The ride back was uneventful, and nothing else really happened that day worth writing about. Also, I'm getting sick of writing, and I'm sure you are getting sick of reading, so I'm just gonna go now. Here are a couple more pictures for your viewing pleasure.
The island we dove next to, Barren Island.
The closest thing I have to a picture of the literal dive site.
Wow I amuse myself.Anyway, the bike ride ended soon after this, as did the excitements of Tuesday (you know it was so exciting).
Then comes Saturday (don't ask about the days in between. I have what some people like to call a job, which takes up lots of my time. But I do like it, I enjoy working and the people there are cool, but there isn't much to say in regards to blogging about it.) I had learned Friday that I would be going scuba diving on Saturday, and that I was to wait at a bus stop on Saturday morning.
I soon became bored of waiting, and what does a bored Cassie do? That's right Annalies, a bored Cassie takes pictures of herself jumping!
Then the other boy who was coming diving showed up, so I was forced to cease my picture taking. We waited for some time and realized that the bus was at that point 20 minutes late, so we called scuba instructor and he came and picked us up and reprimanded us for not waiting at the correct bus stop (it wasn't a bus stop, just where part of the road got about five feet wider.) Then we drove for about half an hour and arrived at Yeppoon, the coastal town where the boat was docked. At the dock we met up with all the other awesome scuba divers (anybody who has gone through PADI's scuba certification course will understand that statement) and waited for the boat to come, which it did. When I noticed the name, Sea Lover, I commented, "Ooh, that's a provocative little name now isn't it." Nobody laughed. Not even me.
So our trip commenced. I knew neither where the dive sight was nor how long it would take to get to it. The boat began rocking a bit, you know, average little boat rocking in the ocean as it zooms along. The rocking became more like the violent thrashing of an untamed warthog. Okay, not so much like that, but it was pretty severe. Basically if you weren't holding on to something you faced a very real risk of falling down. A very real risk. Okay, I'm struggling here to explain how intense the boat ride was. Really, it was pretty intense. Like, 15 foot swells (not exaggerating) that we were climbing up, then suddenly dropping off. Get it yet? Okay, fine, here are some pictures of me dealing with the intensity.
Also, ignore the man in the background. I really don't know why he doesn't look more tossed about. Maybe it's the totally ripped biceps.
During the boat ride, I noticed a pretty spectacle to my left and struggled to retrieve my camera (it was dangerous removing my hands from their holds to extract the camera from its case) to photograph this beautiful image. After about 30 tries, I finally came up with a picture expressing the true beauty of what was happening.
We arrived at the dive site about 1 1/2 hour after commencing on our trip, and my arms were sufficiently exhausted from holding on for dear life for the entire length of the trip. I dove the first dive with the instructor and two other students and was basically freezing the entire time. When I finally made it back to the boat I shivered for the next hour or so. The rest of the awesome divers noticed my shivering and one of them lent me his hood and gloves for the second dive and the instructor allowed me to use another wetsuit in addition to the one I already had on. I was very hesitant to get in the water again but when I did, I learned very quickly what ample insulation can do for the enjoyment of a dive. When I ran out of air I was terribly disappointed that the dive was over, but I was reassured by the knowledge that I get to go again this Saturday.
The other divers returned shortly from their dives and one group brought with them a beautifully colored crawfish. I was very amused by this, but wondered why they had taken it out of its natural habitat (divers tend to be extreme environmentalists). They placed the little creature on the console in front of the steering wheel and I sat next to it, wondering what was going on in its little brain. Another guy came into the cabin and reached for something on the console and instead grasped the little crawfish and I heard the terrifying crunch of the little thing breaking apart in his violent, unintending grip. The guy seemed unaware of what he had done and simply grabbed what he needed and left as I stared, horror struck, at the poor thing that had experienced probably the worst day ever. Several others in the cabin agreed. At this point I began to feel sea sick (it wasn't the rocking of the boat either) and went outside to get fresh air, and to get away from the now bent in half body of the once beautiful creature. Minutes later my dive instructor came out with the dead thing in his hand to show it to me. I was rather disgusted as he held it in front of me, wondering what had happened to the sanctity of life, when he nonchalantly explained that he had retrieved it for his daughter and that this was not the animal at all, but its shell. The real one had ditched this little exoskeleton and was safe at the bottom of the ocean, uncrunched and continuing on in its happy life. After investigating the not-animal I simply responded with, "Well, now I feel stupid." People laughed that time.
The ride back was uneventful, and nothing else really happened that day worth writing about. Also, I'm getting sick of writing, and I'm sure you are getting sick of reading, so I'm just gonna go now. Here are a couple more pictures for your viewing pleasure.
The island we dove next to, Barren Island.
The closest thing I have to a picture of the literal dive site.
1 comment:
haha! I love this story, haha...especially the part where nobody laughed (I think I laughed the hardest at that time). I would be happy to help you figure out how to change your blogger template sometime :) if i can that is.
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