All-Hail to the Fisher-King

Wizard-king:
stoneware; blue glaze.

Wyrd Oft Nereth: Two Views

Deluge In Clay: Atlantean

Reprise: Exile of Atlantis; the Spearman.

Spear and Wave

Free diver spearfishing west of Lover's Point, Pacific Grove. There were two divers working the area, but I didn't notice the second one until the two were climbing up the stairs from the beach.

I'd been rather distracted after taking this shot by gearing up myself.

I hadn't planned on diving, not definitely, but sunny skies, little wind, and such blue water had me pulling on the wetsuit and fishing out my fins as fast as I was able.

Also, if someone else is already out, then it's do-able, you know. It's more than do-able, it's now must-do-able.

(I may be fifty, but part of me's still fifteen or whatever. That adolescent competitive spark still burns. I have better impulse control now, but like to give in once in a while. Got to keep that heart pumping. And, truthfully, my first free dive of 2012 was quick and cautious. Due to the limited visibility underwater, I put off my photographic plan and practiced riding the surge between rocks as well as entries and exits. I haven't been working out and wanted to take it easy, but I had to get wet. Always counts.)

Honor Frost: The Practical Diver

I've written about my hero Honor Frost recently here, and I'd like to share a bit more from her non-fiction Under the Mediterranean. Here are two passages of worthy practical import, and which feature nail polish in particular:

Light in diving is somehow illustrated by a cathedral: for the first few metres where the windows are there is colour, but the floor below is in shade, though there is still quite enough light and one can read if one wants. The explanation of the gradual disappearance of colour underwater is, of course, that as the sun's rays diminish with increasing depth, so the world goes into monochrome. Red disappears first, after about 15 metres, yellow is the last to go at about 30. I discovered this for myself when I cut my finger at 50 metres. My blood oozed out black as ink, and when I looked at my nail varnish it was black too. I can now gauge the depth at which I happen to be swimming by the colour of my nails. (7)

and

Curiously enough, I had less difficulty in equipping myself for underwater drawing than John had had on land. Lead pencils work underwater and so do india-rubbers. Any sheet of light-coloured metal, such as aluminium, makes a serviceable tablet. Notes and drawing made in the water are traced on to paper later, so that a tablet can be re-used. When I do not have to improvise, my standard equipment consists of a portable metal drawing-board with a spring clamp down one side, such as architects use in the field. Sheets of plastic "paper", cut to size, are inserted in the spring to form a block; they can be detached after use. The only modification that had to be made to this portable board was the addition of a second clamp, held by bolts, on the opposite side of the board. Without this, the sheets tended to slip out of the spring when submerged. Plastic or metal rulers are equally serviceable in water, but for longer measurements I find that an arrow from my fish-gun (graduated in units of 10 centimetres in nail varnish) is handier. It is also less likely to be mislaid on a boat, where fish-guns are always carefully stowed. (172)

I'm always trying to match books and readers, and I do like to share the books I value, but I have yet to find another proper reader for Frost's semi-autobiographical study of the essential problems in the proper approach to understanding archaeologically marine sites and remains. The level of expertise may have been superseded, particularly with the advent of more refined technology and diving experience being embraced by serious scientists, but the comprehension of and the appreciation for the underlying issues remain timeless.