Memories

Tiger and I were watching BBC's Wild Week Live with the delightful Donna Traynor and enthusiastic nature lover Darryl Grimason.

What a joy.

It brought back memories of childhood fishing trips. Our dad had a punt. That is like a floating bath tub. The water lapped over the sides and we had to bale it out. Kids don't know what fear is. That comes with age and wisdom. We loved it.

The first time I saw a Basking Shark was when one got caught up in fishing nets and was dragged onto Portstewart Harbour slipway. Ian Henry told everyone that there was a big fish in the Harbour and he thought it was a shark. It was, and it was awesome and then some. At least it was for us. Basking Sharks are huge.We'd never seen anything like it. The shark was towed out to sea and later washed up on Portstewart golf course. The smell was putrid and permeated the whole town for weeks.

Many years later my brother Dessie and I were out fishing when a Basking Shark came along side. I nearly died of fight. It was two or three times the length of the boat and it's mouth was open wide. It could have swallowed us whole.

Dessie told me to calm my jets! He said it ate plankton and would spit me out if I fell in it's mouth.

I wasn't happy until we hit dry land and I was off that boat like a rocket.

Looking back I remember the wonder of seeing such a spectacular creature. A gentle giant. I would give almost anything to go back in time and put my hand out and touch him ... Or her.

Darryl got to swim with a family of Basking Sharks. How bloody marvellous is that? He was justifiably moved and awed. I was in floods of tears. I knew exactly how he felt.