Don’t mess with Mother Nature when she sends a cold front your way. Especially not when scuba diving her home turf – the Mother City. She’ll toss your dive boat around like it’s sporting a Fischer-Price logo.
Visibility is near the top end. Having a great time when the skipper starts tugging the buoyline. A sign scuba divers should surface. But, the viz is so cool… water’s not cold.
Tug, tug… nylon rope gets yanked with more urgency. We continue diving. Violent tugs now pull the DM up a metre or two. Dive boat motor engines start revving. And revving.
Thumbs up sign. Heads barely break the surface and the skipper gives us a lashing from high heaven. Man, now I know what they mean when they say no-one swears worse than sailors, fishermen and boat captains. Spitting and cussing he is pointing at something behind us. ‘Hey, maybe he’s not swearing at us.’ I think, turning to look. A black wall of ice cold front fury is heading our way. Fast.
Not sure what’s worse – trying to hold on while rocketing over 4m cold front induced swells or hearing things the skipper’s going to do with our private parts if we get through this cold front.