No one said launching would be easy. In fact, no one said anything.
This is because a) I've kept it to myself until lately and 2) I work with animals and animal-people, and we don't do business!
But as I head towards the launch of BarkyBakey, the mixed feelings of excitement & anxiety, blended with a good dose of 'what am I doing I'm not ready!' are constantly nipping at my heels.
My mind's in a place that we all are familiar with.
This place is called discomfort. It's not fun.
But in these moments of unknown, inner strife and a bit of pain, that's where the real growth is. Here's what I mean...
Not long ago I decided that I wanted to do a world's first...something. Then during research into an adventure project I was putting together, I came across a Scottish fisherman with a comment that I could just not ignore.
His claim? He knew of a Scottish loch that for some reason at this specific time of year, there are the critically endangered - and world's largest - skate species - and at a diveable depth.
We don't know anything about this rare marine creature called the Flapper skate, where they feed/mate/give birth - not much to go on! Usually they are at 200-300m depth which is obviously out of reach. And there's not many left, so any data at all can inform management decisions around the protection of the species.
He said for some reason they're at this secret location at this time of year. Very few people have seen them in the wild, and no one has ever filmed them professionally. So this is what I wanted to do, film them professionally in their world.
I went up to Scotland (sailed, actually - long story that we are turning into a documentary) and signed up for 'drysuit' diving classes. I could SCUBA dive, but have never done so in waters that weren't crystal clear and bath water warm. I've always thought why would anyone do that? The waters of the Scottish Hebrides were bone chilling cold, visibility not more than an arms length and the changing tides & maritime conditions are legendary.
Dry suit diving is a whole different ballgame. There an entire 'nother level of risk you have to deal with. What if there is a leak? What if too much air goes to my feet as I'm head down and I shoot up like a rocket? (hint: do a forward roll, which may not be so easy if you're floating in nothingness and have no idea which way is up or down!).
In dive class I was ok at 4 meters depth, safely on the bottom where I could get my bearings and always get out of trouble. I passed and got my certificate. But how was I going to react at 30 meters in the pitch black, surrounded by who knows what?
Me getting my drysuit dive certificate. It was a class of 1!
The day of the dive I kept my mind positive. The worries of a strong current, unknown creatures (the waters are now warmer, it's a matter of time until we get 'visitors' in the UK) and diving for the first time with a drysuit - I locked these away. There would be time to fret when I was safely back on the surface.
Our dive team consisted of myself, marine biologist/underwater filmmaker Jake Davies and citizen scientists from Shark and Skate Citizen Science Scotland. Chris had seen a skate once after thousands of dives whilst Dr Lauren however had never seen one. Both had devoted so much over the years in working to better understand and protect these critically endangered yet poorly understood animals. When we reached out to them describing what we wanted to do, they said yes please do save a space on the boat!
We arrived at the location of the loch. In front of us a rainbow formed out of the storm clouds. Behind us was a crumbling, grey castle on the banks of this Scottish loch. We're searching for a giant beast. This is perfect, I thought.
Left: Rainbows were everywhere in the Hebrides - a sign of the ever changing weather!
Right: In the distance an old castle
I placed one hand over my mask, tucked the various hoses and gear against my body, and rolled backwards over the port side. After giving the 'ok' sign to my dive buddy Jake, we headed down the anchor line.
Dr Lauren of Shark & Skate Citizen Science Scotland (SSCSS), Jake Davies, Chris of SSCS, Dr Paul
It soon became surprisingly dark. Like, dark green-black. I thought to myself 'Great, I only have 1 torch, that had better not die on me! And no matter what, do NOT let go of the anchor line Paul.' If I did, I would be floating in darkness and the dive would be over.
Hand over hand we went down the anchor line, deeper and deeper into the blackness.
Final gear checks before SCUBA dive into Scottish loch in search of world's largest and critically endangered Flapper skate
'What am I doing I'm not ready!' was the voice buzzing around the darker corners of my mind up to this day. But in this moment, there was only room for focus. Keep your hands on the anchor line Paul.
We eventually reached the bottom, which was made up of a fine silt that made the visibility worse. With each movement of a fin a small cloud of dust would rise into the water column, impeding our vision further as light from our torches searched the blackness.
Then it happened.
Out of the darkness a massive beast of a sea creature came toward us, completely unperturbed by our presence. A Flapper skate! The wings of it's massive wingspan slowly and elegantly beat as it swam right by us, touching the fin of the scientists we brought along.
Completely relaxed, it slowly did 3 full circles around us, then disappeared back into the darkness.
Man, I hope Jake got that! I thought to myself. Jake did in fact capture this moment on film, it was indeed a bucket list day for him.
'Mermaids Purse' or skate/shark egg shell - this was one found by Shark & Skate Citizen Science Scotland
We could hardly wait to talk when we got to the surface. I let out a loud howl of joy, I could not believe that we set out to do something that seemed so daunting, and we did it! For the first time in weeks, I was at ease.
It didn't go perfectly of course. The Go Pro camera on my head did not catch the emotional point-of-view I witnessed as the creature swam RIGHT in front of my face. I will have to keep that only as a memory. And reminder to never not have new batteries in a camera when doing a world's first dive.
Myself and Jake after filming a Flapper skate. Jubilant!
But back to this launch. I'm full of nervousness, uncertainty, angst, excitement. All at the same time.
What am I doing I'm not ready.
But the funny thing is, when we wait until things are perfect, until ALL of our perceived ducks are in a row, until we're 'ready', the moments pass. It's too late or the benefit of doing the thing is no longer there.
Lemony Snicket said it best:
If we wait until we're ready, we'll be waiting for the rest of our lives
So thank you to all of you, for being a part of BarkyBakey as we go for launch!
'Ok' sign given, don't let go of the anchor line, and enjoy the ride...
(we will be releasing footage of Flapper skates upon completion of our documentary film;)
