|With Brother Derek -
|With Kim Mom
|Charles loved to write...
These were for an English project - in the first one, his class had to write a bio-poem - we used it - it was
fitting...He loved the water and here are his own words:
Sailing enthusiast, avid diver surfer, hater of tourists,
Brother of the 'Derk-Miester'
Lover of surfing, sailing and Red Bull
Who feels relaxed, chilled out, and somewhat optimistic,
Who needs a surfboard, a sailboat and an ice cold Coke,
Who fears running out of air on a dive,
the extinction of sharks and the loss of the coral reefs,
Who gives bad directions to annoying sock and sandal tourists
Bad recommendations to tourists and
great advice to a fellow sailor or diver
Who would like to see more marine traffic laws,
A giant pirate ship and a sea turtle slap a tourist in the face,
Mental resident of Marina Cay, BVI
I am a body washed with sun and surf.
Tropical islands are my only berths,
Living life from tack to jibe,
My only escape is on a dive.
Spending enough time in the water to grow some gills,
While calypso and reggae still give me the chills.
Port to starboard and forward to aft,
Dinner every night is freshly gaffed.
I am a body stuck in an ocean-less domain.
Nothing more, nothing less, everything is a pain.
Sounds of the ocean are non-existent.
A house in the mountains, I’d much rather a tent
Placed on the beach, not a person around
No needs but my surfboard and a sheet on the ground.
Living life from break to break,
Leaving the ocean only for a fresh cheese steak.
Set after set my adrenaline rises,
Flat days are in my list of despises,
Tourists are too, with socks under sandals
Deserve to be beaten with cooking pan handles.
Trashing the beach and crowding the surf
Go back to your fancy restaurant and eat your surf and turf.
Crashing waves; my alarm clock.
The ocean seduces me into a daze,
Resistance is worthless to the salty air and the cry of the ‘gulls.
The moments before sunrise are sacred,
Nothing superfluous, no tourists, no music, quiet.
Crashing waves echo across the cool sandy beach.
Nothing can be said, these moments are sacred.
The water rushes forward as to accept me,
Scampering through the maze of crabs and shells.
As I reach the waters edge the sun begins to reflect over the horizon,
Nothing in hand ‘cept a surfboard and not a thought in my mind.
The ocean and I become one.
Crashhh is the only thing I hear as I creep over the dunes.
Sand is blown into my eyes and the beach becomes a fragmented vision.
Crash, Caw, Caw
The warm sound of the waves is interrupted by the harsh squawk of the gulls.
The wind picks up again and blows the taste of salt into my mouth.
Dropping my bag on the sand I become hell-bent for the water
As the whir of vacationing mini van doors begin to open.
The sounds of the children are drowned out by the intensity of the shore break.
Painstakingly and unconditionally fearless.
A man that believed the Atlantic was more than a mess.
Ships wrecked in the most dangerous places
Left divers missing with almost no traces.
Billy Nagle was one to be revered by all,
His love of diving never faded even with excessive alcohol.
Out of shape and incapable of diving with the best,
A mystery at 200 feet changed the rest
Of his life and the future of the Germans.
An un-chartered u-boat made the enemy look like vermin.
He was the very best in the prime of his days.
From the Doria down to where a lack of sun rays
Penetrate nothing and you have to dive blind,
Knowing not where you are, you become one of a kind.
There are many more and I will post them as I have time. Peace.
|Seatrek - BVI 2005
|Little Torch Key
|Hawk's Cay - Duck Key