It has long been an ambition to sail up to Seragaki harbor and there take amazing photos of rare terns, er Roseate and Black Naped.
In previous years there has been a maelstrom of terns. Hundreds of pairs nesting on the rock outside Serigaki. So I go there by sail, anchor, take the best photos ever .
Unfortunately, this year few or no terns are on the island. I have driven up there several times to check. There are few terns
Notwithstanding, I set off this morning with the firm belief that hundreds of terns will have arrived overnight.
The wind is coming straight offshore at 30kph. Perfect as I reach all the way up to Seragaki in less than 2 hours. It is hot. Sun scorches skin.
Complex tacking to get into the harbor but I know the Scaffie well.
There are no terns. I knew this, but my dream said otherwise.
There is actually one Black Naped Tern and he does not like me being in his hood. He attacks me vigorously as I walk around.
So, I row out after a less than dreamlike visit to Serigaki.
The wind is strong offshore and I hurtle home.
I do not know what I have done to offend the Shinto Sea Seniors but each time I sail home they change the wind just as I am nearing home. I am thundering home, dreaming of food and very, very, cold drinks when the wind disappears, only to re-appear from the South West. South West means blowing directly from where I want to go.
Anyway half way across Tancha Bay, I unzip my diving bag to get water. The zip breaks. It is a very important moment. I have talked about this bag before.
She has been with me through all the tortuous struggles of my life. She has been big enough to hold all my possessions at earlier stages, my sons have lain in her as babies, I recently, like 2 weeks ago, went on a business trip and my stuff was perfectly encapsulated in my Spirotechnique bag. I own nothing that I acquired before this bag, which I acquired in 1975 in Oran, Algeria.
Boo Hoo. At least she died at sea.