Mais Je ne vois pas des dauphins sanglante!
Glenelg beach - a seaweed free zone
Majestic stingray
Next day I slip out of my bunk at well before 6.00 am with a knot of excitement in my stomach. I dress in the corridor outside the room to avoid disturbing my three roommates.
I’d done a reconnaissance mission the evening before so I know where to go to catch the tram to Glenelg, a beach resort just south of Adelaide. I dose myself with sea sickness tablets and ginger on the 20 minute journey.
I’d done a reconnaissance mission the evening before so I know where to go to catch the tram to Glenelg, a beach resort just south of Adelaide. I dose myself with sea sickness tablets and ginger on the 20 minute journey.
It’s a short walk to the marina where I soon locate the splendid looking catamaran that is going to carry me out to sea. The crew welcome me aboard and immediately slap an indemnity form in my hand for me to sign. It does nothing to calm my shark encounter worries. Normally I dismiss such documents as meaningless, but when a crew member solemnly witnesses my signature there is definitely an air of having signed away any future claim for my missing leg.
I am issued with a large black wet suit and told to change. There are about 20 of us taking the trip altogether and a crew member calls us together for our briefing.
‘G’day. I’m Gary and I’ll be looking after you today. The conditions are good, but we can never guarantee that you will get to swim with the dolphins. These are wild creatures. It’s up to them whether they want to play or not. Under no circumstances should you attempt to touch the dolphins as they will bite you.’
Great. Here’s me worrying about sharks and now this guy tells me that Flipper wants a piece of me too.
‘When we sight dolphins we will move towards them. I will then shout “Swimmers ready” and you should put on your masks and snorkels and make your way to the rear of the boat as quickly as you can.
‘When I give the command, get into the water and hold on to one of the ropes trailing behind the boat. You must stay inside the rope, so that the Shark Shield can protect you. We should get 5 or 6 swims today. Any questions?’
Of course there are. Everyone on that boat wants to know about the bloody Shark Shield and what their chances are of going home in one piece. But no one dares to ask.
I prop myself on the foredeck as we make our way out to sea.
We are barely out of the marina when the first shout goes up and I make my way to the back of the boat. There is a small aluminium platform at water level. Two white ropes rail behind the boat and in between them is a bright yellow cord. The sort of cord you would use to tie your luggage to a car roof rack. As highly effective shark deterrents go it doesn’t look like much.
‘Swimmers, get in the water,’ yells Gary.
I duly pull down my snorkel and mask and work my way down the rope. I can’t see anything except the pale legs of the bloke in front. People on the boat are shouting and pointing. I look to my left and no more than 25 feet away a fin appears out of the water. Shark or dolphin? Luckily it was a bottlenose. But he stays out to my left and doesn’t come to play so I never get the underwater view or a chance to be nibbled.
Then, on the rope opposite, a young girl begins to panic and shout. What's that? Is she saying ‘Help’ or ‘Shark’? I’m not quite sure but she certainly isn't happy. I am the closest person to her and luckily I trained in life saving many years ago. Hang on luv, it’s coming back to me. Ah, yes. Lesson Number One - you're no use to anyone dead so don't put yourself in danger. Good advice. I try to move as far away from her as I can, but she’s closer than I thought and makes grab for my leg. A swift kick catches her on the chin and stuns her, breaking her grip and allowing me to put a good distance between us.
My goodness that was close. Thank God for my training. What on earth was she doing? If there was a shark down there then all that thrashing about was just asking for trouble. It was a near thing, but I survived.
So does she. Gary throws her a life belt and reels her. Lesson Number Two – find something to throw to the drama queen and pull them in. It must be thirty years since I took my bonze medallion in life saving, but it’s still all there. I bet I can still make a float out of pyjama bottoms should the need arise.
After ten minutes it’s clear that the dolphins are not in partying mood and Gary calls us all in. I soon spot shark girl sat on the deck with a towel round her hunched shoulders. Fortunately, in wetsuits and masks we all look the same so she hasn’t got a clue who twatted her. This is my lucky day.
Well, it would be if I actually got to swim with a dolphin. There is one more call to get in the water, but once again Flipper and his mates just take the piss. After that I just laze around on deck, like a Spitfire pilot waiting for the shout. It never comes. I'd spent sixty quid for the pleasure of being dragged behind a boat on a piece of rope. At least the sea sickness pills worked.
Being English I accepted that this was the way of things but as I left the boat a young French girl had a different viewpoint and was berating the crew:
‘But I did not see any dolphins!’ she complained.
I left her to it.
It’s a beautiful day and very hot. It would be a shame to leave the beach so I go for a walk.
From the pier I take photos of Glenelg as it seems to be a very modern and attractive resort. I got a few shots too of a magnificent stingray that glides under the pier. Not too big, maybe 6 feet across, but I really enjoy seeing this creature flapping its wings and moving along so wild and free.
I point it out to a chap nearby. He then regales me with fishing stories and tells me how this area had been ruined.
‘Look at the beach,’ he implores. ‘All the seaweed had been removed, driving the fish away, and local houses bull-dozed to make way for modern flats, all to make it more attractive to people. Don't tell me about the green house effect,’ he says. 'What about the greed house effect?'
Suddenly I see Glenelg differently.
My new friend, who turns out to be from Romania but has lived in Australia for 40 years, has a word or two to say about sharks too.
‘I’ve seen some really big ones. Even saw a great white once. But mostly they are harmless.
‘It is these people who dress all in black that are so stupid. The sharks mistake them for seals. They’re just asking for trouble.’
‘Tut, tut. How stupid can you get?’ I agree. ‘I’ve heard that there’s a company here who dress people in black wetsuits and drag them behind a boat.’
‘Why would they do that?’ asks my friend.
‘So they can swim with dolphins.’
‘And do they?’
‘No.’
‘That’s crazy!’
I leave him shaking his head. Wandering along the beach I am pleased to find that further up the seaweed reappears.
I am issued with a large black wet suit and told to change. There are about 20 of us taking the trip altogether and a crew member calls us together for our briefing.
‘G’day. I’m Gary and I’ll be looking after you today. The conditions are good, but we can never guarantee that you will get to swim with the dolphins. These are wild creatures. It’s up to them whether they want to play or not. Under no circumstances should you attempt to touch the dolphins as they will bite you.’
Great. Here’s me worrying about sharks and now this guy tells me that Flipper wants a piece of me too.
‘When we sight dolphins we will move towards them. I will then shout “Swimmers ready” and you should put on your masks and snorkels and make your way to the rear of the boat as quickly as you can.
‘When I give the command, get into the water and hold on to one of the ropes trailing behind the boat. You must stay inside the rope, so that the Shark Shield can protect you. We should get 5 or 6 swims today. Any questions?’
Of course there are. Everyone on that boat wants to know about the bloody Shark Shield and what their chances are of going home in one piece. But no one dares to ask.
I prop myself on the foredeck as we make our way out to sea.
We are barely out of the marina when the first shout goes up and I make my way to the back of the boat. There is a small aluminium platform at water level. Two white ropes rail behind the boat and in between them is a bright yellow cord. The sort of cord you would use to tie your luggage to a car roof rack. As highly effective shark deterrents go it doesn’t look like much.
‘Swimmers, get in the water,’ yells Gary.
I duly pull down my snorkel and mask and work my way down the rope. I can’t see anything except the pale legs of the bloke in front. People on the boat are shouting and pointing. I look to my left and no more than 25 feet away a fin appears out of the water. Shark or dolphin? Luckily it was a bottlenose. But he stays out to my left and doesn’t come to play so I never get the underwater view or a chance to be nibbled.
Then, on the rope opposite, a young girl begins to panic and shout. What's that? Is she saying ‘Help’ or ‘Shark’? I’m not quite sure but she certainly isn't happy. I am the closest person to her and luckily I trained in life saving many years ago. Hang on luv, it’s coming back to me. Ah, yes. Lesson Number One - you're no use to anyone dead so don't put yourself in danger. Good advice. I try to move as far away from her as I can, but she’s closer than I thought and makes grab for my leg. A swift kick catches her on the chin and stuns her, breaking her grip and allowing me to put a good distance between us.
My goodness that was close. Thank God for my training. What on earth was she doing? If there was a shark down there then all that thrashing about was just asking for trouble. It was a near thing, but I survived.
So does she. Gary throws her a life belt and reels her. Lesson Number Two – find something to throw to the drama queen and pull them in. It must be thirty years since I took my bonze medallion in life saving, but it’s still all there. I bet I can still make a float out of pyjama bottoms should the need arise.
After ten minutes it’s clear that the dolphins are not in partying mood and Gary calls us all in. I soon spot shark girl sat on the deck with a towel round her hunched shoulders. Fortunately, in wetsuits and masks we all look the same so she hasn’t got a clue who twatted her. This is my lucky day.
Well, it would be if I actually got to swim with a dolphin. There is one more call to get in the water, but once again Flipper and his mates just take the piss. After that I just laze around on deck, like a Spitfire pilot waiting for the shout. It never comes. I'd spent sixty quid for the pleasure of being dragged behind a boat on a piece of rope. At least the sea sickness pills worked.
Being English I accepted that this was the way of things but as I left the boat a young French girl had a different viewpoint and was berating the crew:
‘But I did not see any dolphins!’ she complained.
I left her to it.
It’s a beautiful day and very hot. It would be a shame to leave the beach so I go for a walk.
From the pier I take photos of Glenelg as it seems to be a very modern and attractive resort. I got a few shots too of a magnificent stingray that glides under the pier. Not too big, maybe 6 feet across, but I really enjoy seeing this creature flapping its wings and moving along so wild and free.
I point it out to a chap nearby. He then regales me with fishing stories and tells me how this area had been ruined.
‘Look at the beach,’ he implores. ‘All the seaweed had been removed, driving the fish away, and local houses bull-dozed to make way for modern flats, all to make it more attractive to people. Don't tell me about the green house effect,’ he says. 'What about the greed house effect?'
Suddenly I see Glenelg differently.
My new friend, who turns out to be from Romania but has lived in Australia for 40 years, has a word or two to say about sharks too.
‘I’ve seen some really big ones. Even saw a great white once. But mostly they are harmless.
‘It is these people who dress all in black that are so stupid. The sharks mistake them for seals. They’re just asking for trouble.’
‘Tut, tut. How stupid can you get?’ I agree. ‘I’ve heard that there’s a company here who dress people in black wetsuits and drag them behind a boat.’
‘Why would they do that?’ asks my friend.
‘So they can swim with dolphins.’
‘And do they?’
‘No.’
‘That’s crazy!’
I leave him shaking his head. Wandering along the beach I am pleased to find that further up the seaweed reappears.
My walk takes me past the young French girl who still looks unhappy and is shouting something to her boyfriend.
‘Mais Je ne vois pas des dauphins sanglante!’
My French isn't too good, but I think that translates as: 'But I didn’t see any bloody dolphins!'
A short nap and a bit of sunburn later I make my way back but this time I walk along the promenade. The houses that front it are splendid and no two are alike. One in particular catches my eye. All steel, concrete and glass it is full of curves and designed so the top storey is the main living area. It is the grass that amazes me most. It is an unnatural green. I walk over to it to see if it is real and it is. Every blade of uniform length and not a weed in sight. The groundsman at Wembley would be proud of this grass. It is perfect. And it is on a slope, so I've no idea how such precision was engineered. I wanted to take a picture so the next time the Green Thumb Man appears we can have a chat about what I should get for my money. But I am conscious of the security cameras and sure that somewhere unseen there is a Rottweiler with and elastic band around its nuts to provide additional motivation to see off intruders.
I withdraw. But maybe I would have been okay, because what was odd is there are no people about at all. Apart from the odd workman painting or cementing something I never see any residents of these award winning beachfront properties. It is eerily quiet.
So quite a day all in all. I'd paid to be pulled through the sea like a seal on a rope just to prove that my sea sickness pills work. And then I'd gone walkabout for nothing, seen a majestic stingray and been left wondering, not for the first time, about the nature of progress and man's need to sterilise nature in order to create communities worthy of Homes and Gardens. I think I may have caught the sun too.
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