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Every word of what I now relate to you is true and as I recall it now it is as if no time has passed between the events and my recollection.
Many years ago I was vacationing in the Caribbean Islands. I was Island hopping and happened to be on a pristine beach on St. Thomas of the US Virgin Islands. It was very early afternoon and after having had a good lunch and a little siesta under the cool shade of a coconut tree I decided to take a little dip in the turquoise waters of the Caribbean sea.
I was equipped at that time with my old trusty Seiko Sports 100 chronograph that my father had given me some 15 years previously. That watch had seen me through much and I trusted it like an old friend.
I took my snorkeling equipment but as I was not planning on going far, I left the flippers on the shore. Soon I was engrossed in the underwater world. I noted after quite some time that the water felt a bit cooler and that it was now green and dark compared to the clear warm waters I had been swimming in. Soon thereafter, I could no longer see the bottom and finally looked up out of the water.
I was shocked to realize that I was no longer near the beach. I was so far from it in fact that the beach looked like a line above the water and I could barely make out any trees at all. To the right of my position I could see a dark green Island rising from the waters a few miles away, far enough that no trees could be identified. I knew immediately that I had been swept away by a current and was now deep in the waters known to be infested with sharks. The sea was heaving in the way you may have felt when on a smaller boat, the islands visible and hidden from view as I was carried briskly to my right.
I had few choices. I could let myself be carried by the current, to the right of my current position and hope that I could land on that island but then there was the issue of whether I would actually miss that island and be swept to open water and that even if I did hit the island the possibility and way of getting back to this Island was not entirely clear or certain.
I therefore decided to fight the current. I glanced at the watch on my left wrist and saw that it was 12:40 in the afternoon, and then putting my head once again in water and facing directly the beach I had originally been on, I started swimming, keeping my wits about me as much as I could. I looked at the Seiko every few minutes and after 10 minutes of swimming, at about 12:50 in the afternoon I looked up and to my horror, I had not moved more than a few feet from where I had been 10 minutes ago. At this point I panicked for a second or two and had a feeling that I was not going to make it and letting the current take me quickly where it was taking me was the only option. I was also getting increasingly worried about the sharks.
It may seem odd now, but at that time looking at the watch and seeing the steady movement of the seconds hand on the little register was very reassuring. I had been seeing the face of that watch for over 15 years and that same trustworthy dial now helped me regain a semblance of calm.
I quickly formulated a plan of action. Looking down at the deep, green, bottomless water or looking ahead at the island to the right or the thin crescent of a beach to the left were nerve wracking. I decided therefore to flip on my back and look up at the blue sky instead. I decided to use my arms and legs as the oars on a canoe, opening and closing the arms and legs in steady but powerful strokes. I discarded the mask and snorkel and started my swim at 90 degrees angle to what I felt was the direction of the current, towards the beach wherefrom I had entered the water.
I decided to do five minutes of swimming and a minute or two of rest and looking at the watch I activated the chronograph function by pressing the non-screwed down actuator. It was about 12:55 pm when I started my battle to fight the current. I was many years younger and used to regular exercise. I took deep steady breaths and propelled myself with powerful strokes of the arms and legs, creating little splash and good thrust. Gazing at the watch every few minutes, I stopped the chronograph in five minutes and rested for a minute, not willing to look to see if I had made any progress. Regaining my breath and some energy, I once again activated the chronograph and made another determined push. I did this stop and go three times and shortly after I had restarted the chronograph function for the fourth time, around 1:15 pm, I suddenly felt the water to be warmer and looking down for the first time in almost 20 minutes I felt that it was blue instead of green. Quickly gazing in the direction of my goal, I could now see a few trees and barely make out tiny people walking on the beach! However, the current, that I had been fighting at about 90 degrees had carried me to the other end of the island and there was now a need for me to adjust my direction of progress. This would necessitate a longer swim distance but was no longer against the current.
Though exhausted now, I was psychologically renewed and the energy to go on was absolutely tremendous. After another 20 minutes of hard, focused and determined swimming that would have done justice to the training of an Olympic athlete, at roughly 1:35 pm I stopped swimming. I stopped the monumental effort when my legs could touch the sand. I was at the beach but was not able to stand and therefore half swam and half crawled onto the sandy shore.
I remember very clearly, two bikini clad girls not far from where I made my landing. I could not bring myself to crawl onto the beach with the girls around and wanted to make a half way decent entrance [it amuses me how, now that I was finally on shore I was already worried about keeping appearances in front of the opposite sex when a few minutes ago I was fighting for something much more precious]. Calling upon every last ounce of energy and will, I stood up in a foot of water and on legs that felt like soft gooey rubber I struggled onto the firm sand. As I did so however, my will could no longer keep me up and I fell face first onto the sand. I lay there motionless, not able to move my arms by my side. After an eternity I turned over and came to rest on my elbow. The girls a few feet to my right had not moved and were still on their bellies tanning their behinds. There were other people farther away loafing on the sandy paradise. Little did anyone know that I was not able to stand and that crawling away was the only other option.
I took a deep breath and looked at the inviting turquoise waters which were changing colors almost every minute as spiffy clouds hurried overhead. Not on your life.
I took a look at my watch. The normally brilliant and clearly legible dial was for the first time fogged and obscure. The seconds hand was no longer moving and the time was 1:35. My old friend who had seen me through high school, college, medical school and residency training and falling in love and getting married and a thousand things that happened in between had stood by me to the last and finally gave up the ghost having seen to it that I, its master, was safely to the shore.
Actuating the chronograph function repeatedly, in water, in a 15 year old watch that had never seen any service but a battery replacement every few years, was a sure way to have killed it.
Since then, many watches have come and gone. Some I remember fondly, others I can barely recall, but one watch that has stayed with me all these years, even though it no longer can tell me time, is my old friend. It may no longer tell me the time but it reminds me still of history and the times that we shared and continue to share.
Thanks for your time friends.
Many years ago I was vacationing in the Caribbean Islands. I was Island hopping and happened to be on a pristine beach on St. Thomas of the US Virgin Islands. It was very early afternoon and after having had a good lunch and a little siesta under the cool shade of a coconut tree I decided to take a little dip in the turquoise waters of the Caribbean sea.
I was equipped at that time with my old trusty Seiko Sports 100 chronograph that my father had given me some 15 years previously. That watch had seen me through much and I trusted it like an old friend.
I took my snorkeling equipment but as I was not planning on going far, I left the flippers on the shore. Soon I was engrossed in the underwater world. I noted after quite some time that the water felt a bit cooler and that it was now green and dark compared to the clear warm waters I had been swimming in. Soon thereafter, I could no longer see the bottom and finally looked up out of the water.
I was shocked to realize that I was no longer near the beach. I was so far from it in fact that the beach looked like a line above the water and I could barely make out any trees at all. To the right of my position I could see a dark green Island rising from the waters a few miles away, far enough that no trees could be identified. I knew immediately that I had been swept away by a current and was now deep in the waters known to be infested with sharks. The sea was heaving in the way you may have felt when on a smaller boat, the islands visible and hidden from view as I was carried briskly to my right.
I had few choices. I could let myself be carried by the current, to the right of my current position and hope that I could land on that island but then there was the issue of whether I would actually miss that island and be swept to open water and that even if I did hit the island the possibility and way of getting back to this Island was not entirely clear or certain.
I therefore decided to fight the current. I glanced at the watch on my left wrist and saw that it was 12:40 in the afternoon, and then putting my head once again in water and facing directly the beach I had originally been on, I started swimming, keeping my wits about me as much as I could. I looked at the Seiko every few minutes and after 10 minutes of swimming, at about 12:50 in the afternoon I looked up and to my horror, I had not moved more than a few feet from where I had been 10 minutes ago. At this point I panicked for a second or two and had a feeling that I was not going to make it and letting the current take me quickly where it was taking me was the only option. I was also getting increasingly worried about the sharks.
It may seem odd now, but at that time looking at the watch and seeing the steady movement of the seconds hand on the little register was very reassuring. I had been seeing the face of that watch for over 15 years and that same trustworthy dial now helped me regain a semblance of calm.
I quickly formulated a plan of action. Looking down at the deep, green, bottomless water or looking ahead at the island to the right or the thin crescent of a beach to the left were nerve wracking. I decided therefore to flip on my back and look up at the blue sky instead. I decided to use my arms and legs as the oars on a canoe, opening and closing the arms and legs in steady but powerful strokes. I discarded the mask and snorkel and started my swim at 90 degrees angle to what I felt was the direction of the current, towards the beach wherefrom I had entered the water.
I decided to do five minutes of swimming and a minute or two of rest and looking at the watch I activated the chronograph function by pressing the non-screwed down actuator. It was about 12:55 pm when I started my battle to fight the current. I was many years younger and used to regular exercise. I took deep steady breaths and propelled myself with powerful strokes of the arms and legs, creating little splash and good thrust. Gazing at the watch every few minutes, I stopped the chronograph in five minutes and rested for a minute, not willing to look to see if I had made any progress. Regaining my breath and some energy, I once again activated the chronograph and made another determined push. I did this stop and go three times and shortly after I had restarted the chronograph function for the fourth time, around 1:15 pm, I suddenly felt the water to be warmer and looking down for the first time in almost 20 minutes I felt that it was blue instead of green. Quickly gazing in the direction of my goal, I could now see a few trees and barely make out tiny people walking on the beach! However, the current, that I had been fighting at about 90 degrees had carried me to the other end of the island and there was now a need for me to adjust my direction of progress. This would necessitate a longer swim distance but was no longer against the current.
Though exhausted now, I was psychologically renewed and the energy to go on was absolutely tremendous. After another 20 minutes of hard, focused and determined swimming that would have done justice to the training of an Olympic athlete, at roughly 1:35 pm I stopped swimming. I stopped the monumental effort when my legs could touch the sand. I was at the beach but was not able to stand and therefore half swam and half crawled onto the sandy shore.
I remember very clearly, two bikini clad girls not far from where I made my landing. I could not bring myself to crawl onto the beach with the girls around and wanted to make a half way decent entrance [it amuses me how, now that I was finally on shore I was already worried about keeping appearances in front of the opposite sex when a few minutes ago I was fighting for something much more precious]. Calling upon every last ounce of energy and will, I stood up in a foot of water and on legs that felt like soft gooey rubber I struggled onto the firm sand. As I did so however, my will could no longer keep me up and I fell face first onto the sand. I lay there motionless, not able to move my arms by my side. After an eternity I turned over and came to rest on my elbow. The girls a few feet to my right had not moved and were still on their bellies tanning their behinds. There were other people farther away loafing on the sandy paradise. Little did anyone know that I was not able to stand and that crawling away was the only other option.
I took a deep breath and looked at the inviting turquoise waters which were changing colors almost every minute as spiffy clouds hurried overhead. Not on your life.
I took a look at my watch. The normally brilliant and clearly legible dial was for the first time fogged and obscure. The seconds hand was no longer moving and the time was 1:35. My old friend who had seen me through high school, college, medical school and residency training and falling in love and getting married and a thousand things that happened in between had stood by me to the last and finally gave up the ghost having seen to it that I, its master, was safely to the shore.
Actuating the chronograph function repeatedly, in water, in a 15 year old watch that had never seen any service but a battery replacement every few years, was a sure way to have killed it.
Since then, many watches have come and gone. Some I remember fondly, others I can barely recall, but one watch that has stayed with me all these years, even though it no longer can tell me time, is my old friend. It may no longer tell me the time but it reminds me still of history and the times that we shared and continue to share.
Thanks for your time friends.
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