Boat trip

By Tom Clifford

I am not a seafarer. I do not have sea legs. I have two, very grateful for them, but they are not marine adjustable. I get on board any vessel and I grab the handrails. And do not let go until I see something else to hang on to.

Of course I have been on a boat. I am Irish, not part of this later lot with computer skills and air tickets, fancy clothes and choices of jobs. I come from an earlier generation that took the ferry from Dublin to Holyhead. It was more than just a ferry. It was a rite of passage into adulthood. And no, it was not the streamlined, aerodynamic speedsters of today that smoothly dash across the sea in about three hours. Back in the 80s it was a lumbering, bulky vessel that took about 8 hours to do the crossing. So, I had some experience of the waves. But as we recently boarded the catamaran for an eco-tour around the island, I admit my eye did a quick reconnaissance of where the life jackets were kept. Our “captain’’ seemed to be the youngest person on board. The second youngest was his first mate. It was good for the captain to get his mate a job.

Before departure from Bobby’s Marina we were given safety instructions in case we hit an iceberg. Silly, I hear you say. Well, that’s probably what the Titanic passengers felt when they set off from Cork in 1912.

We headed out to the open sea. Do people ever head out to the closed sea? The captain parked, if that is the correct nautical term when you drop anchor, off some rocks that sheltered marine life. The snorkels and flippers were donned by some as vital information was given. Do not touch. If an eyelash even brushes against coral, it will kill it. I was reliably informed when they emerged from the sea that the marine life was spectacular. A blaze of color was on view. And by all accounts the underwater dwellers were friendly. I took their word for it.

I kept watch from the safety of the deck, the theme music from Jaws running continuously in my mind. Was that a fin I saw in the distance? No, just a piece of driftwood.

I counted all the snorkelers back on board. None had been swallowed by whales.

We then headed off to some deserted island and on our way major landmarks of nature, such as the beachfront properties of Hollywood stars, were pointed out.

We parked off a golden beach where other vessels had also opted to do the same. It was turning into a social gathering as food and refreshments were served. Passengers from other boats waved to us as we waved back. You could say we were waving upon the waves. Then, I realized, ah, this is what they mean by marine life.