Thanx to Taku Kumabe, I'm now published... his U&I Magazine had a call for submissions a couple of months back, and so I submitted an article (with photographs) on underwater photography.
When I asked how long it could be, he said there was no size restriction. *evil grin* I have to admit, that I waxed a bit eloquent (no surprise to those who know me)... I ended up with 12 pages of the issue... :-)
You can order copies here, but given that the magazine has no advertising, it is a price $20.00 USD per issue. C'est la vie.
All in all, I was quite happy with how it turned out, both the article itself and the images. And, I still own the rights to the images and the article... so I should probably get off my @ss to find someone to flog it to. Someone with deep pockets and questionable judgement.... ;-)
Here is the first section from the article:
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It was a dark and stormy night... yes, seriously it was a dark and stormy night!
The deck of the 65' sloop Sea Explorer heaved like a beast possessed, as she struggled through the ten-foot waves that turned the surface of the ocean around me into a madly-undulating vision of watery hell. Cold saltwater-spray stung my face and hands as I clutched at the companionway hatch to stop myself being thrown around the deck. Waves crashed over the bow with appalling regularity, having the decency to at least wash the assorted... detritus, over the side. Even with my sea-sickness meds, I could feel my stomach start to argue with it’s contents… it wouldn't be long before I too joined the serried-ranks of those who huddled in misery in the inner 'horse-shoe', a large fiberglass series of benches that took up most of the mid and fore-deck. They huddled for warmth, huddled for protection against the elements, huddled for that last spark of human touch before we sank to our inevitable oblivion in the inky brine that made up the Gulf Stream off of Florida's coast.
"Nice night isn't it!!!" bellowed the Captain with a cheerful grin, as he clutched the wheel and rode the madness with practiced ease. He was an obviously-evil character, replete with dark foul-weather gear that was obviously purchased a decade ago, no doubt to match his black and tormenting soul. The only thing that he lacked was a parrot and an eye patch. Most of the rest of the crew were down below deck in the salon, tucking into their own suppers with gusto, immune to this monstrous tempest; merely another day on the job.
Ok, maybe I'm waxing a little melodramatic, but damnit, I earned the right! This was my second of three trips with Blackbeard Cruises, a live-aboard dive excursion (now based in Freeport, the Bahamas) that sailed out of Miami. This meant that you had to do 'The Crossing', which referred to crossing the Gulf Stream from Florida over to the out-islands of the Bahamas. The Crossing normally lasted between 8 to 10 hours, and yes, you really could tell someone had capitalized the letters when they said it. ;-) With the prevailing winds coming out of the east, and the current of the Gulf Stream heading north / north-east, the result in the winter could be a 10 hour trip-from-hell as the forces at work pulled the waves this way and that. On a previous trip, a friend of mine from Georgia in the US had spent the entire crossing in the forward head, being continuously seasick. On that trip, my meds worked much better and I wasn't sick at all, and I was odiously smug about it. After this second cruise, I had to call him up and offer a profuse apology for the lack of sympathy that I shown, at the time. The best way to describe a trip on Blackbeards is ‘Camping at Sea’.
After losing the remains of my supper (remember, always to the lee-side, away from the wind!), I joined my fellow-victims in their meager shelter and waited for our certain and inevitable death.
Of course, it was only a few hours later (though I assure you that it felt like an eternity) that we made safe-harbour at the island of North Bimini, a tiny speck of land, principally famous for it's fishing (Ernest Hemmingway spent much time here), and for being the place where the final scene in the Silence of the Lambs was filmed (I’m having an old friend for dinner). Most importantly to us scuba-divers, it was sheltered and the boat magnanimously decided to stop trying to kill us. Finally we could stumble down to our bunks and try and get some sleep.
The sun rose and showed us all what paradise looks like...
Calm turquoise waters in the shallows, fading out into a deep, emerald green sea. The skies were sapphire-blue, marred only by a random sprinkling of pristinely white seabirds that floated by, calling out as if laughing at our fears from the night before. The cheerful, competent, wonderful Captain and crew (I had forgiven them by about the point I smelled the coffee), rounded us up to deal with our customs paperwork and to provide breakfast. I recommend starting off with porridge, if you've been seasick (trust me on this).
And then, it was time to go diving.
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If you want the rest, email me or better yet, go buy a copy. :-)
Ciao, peeps. Mark :)
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