Brett Rants

Going Deep

...or just skimming the surface...

This is a clear and yellow, so a yellow jacket or yellow and clear, diving mask set, prescription lenses with snorkel, it cost a few hundred dollars, and for the most, that is the most relevent concept, if this were free or just a twenty dollar throw away mask, this page would not exist, nor would I have felt to take a picture before getting rid of it

Welcome to the wonderful world of snorkelling. In this introductory tutorial...

Er, no.

I don't know how many times I went snorkelling.

Perhaps, the best story involves the line, 'And he was such a good boyfriend,' as the rip-tide carried me away. Ironically, I hadn't a clue, since I was wearing flippers. Sure, I had to fight my way back in. And it seemed a lot harder than it should have, which I guess it was, since I was told the round trip took me a good mile, half mile, or whatever it was out of my way. Who knows the exact distance? They say I drifted almost all the way to the corner of the bay, where, if I had kept on going, the greater ocean current would have kicked in and carried me far-far away.

Now, if that last was the best story, the best time, was to be had in a little cove... I forget the name. But let me tell you about that little cove: nothing to look at, just a small little swimming hole, taboo holy ground to the left (call it kapu and/or off limits if you'd like), an underwater wild fish preserve to the right, with only an area about the size of a small swimming pool (OK, maybe a large swimming pool, I suppose it matters where you are from), in which to do one's snorkelling. And in this area, twenty feet out, past a line of barrier rocks, call it a reef (but then, the entire thing was a reef of sorts), the ocean dropped away at a forty-five degree angle. A submarine could have stationed itself a hundred yards offshore, the whales made it their home... and who knows what other terrors from the deep kept watch from the depths, you know, where infinity faded away into black nothingness miles and miles away. Anyway, here, protected from the monsters of the deep by a natural rock wall (that, also, happened to break the surf), among a few hundred fishes (just enough to keep one company, but not too many to cramp one's style or, much more importantly, draw in the tourists), I'd float on my stomach, head underwater, breathing through the snorkel, gazing at the ocean floor, the rocks, the fish, the flotsam in the water, bobbing up and down, 'Breathe In. Breathe Out', feeling like Darth Vader on some tropical holiday.

I can still feel the flow of the ocean.

Local Motion


Breathe in. Breathe out.

But eyesight changes, lifestyles change... and in the end, everything changes.

I hadn't worn the mask in a year... or two... or three. Heck, it might have been a full six years (a full life-cycle for those who believe in The Sick), since I'd last worn the mask, so time to ditch it, clean the closet, no sense taking it with when it was finally time to move on...

But it's hard to let go of some things.

And in this case, part of my letting go is making a web page about a snorkelling mask.

Funny how life goes.

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Goodbye old friend.

I hope you find a good home.

© copyright 2017 Brett Paufler