Zero minutes to spare–I raced down Dock #4 to the Ocean King. With a bit of help, I clambered over the side and onto a bench–then we were off, putt-putting toward open water.
Then…. WHOOM! That yellow rubber boat took off at top speed. Spray flew up into our faces from left and right. We laughed and held handrails and were grateful our benches were padded, as our boat took off from the crest of a wave and then whomped us down again several times in rapid succession. Each turn tipped the boat up and slid us in unison sideways.
I had (now we come to the symbolic part of my narrative) exactly one photo left in the single-use camera I bought in Amsterdam. (My digital camera…but that’s another story.)
Only one photo, and I was saving that photo for a Vlieland sea lion.
Or, and this was also a possibility, I might have zero photographs left in the camera. I might already have used up every picture at last night’s celebration of Gerard ‘t Hooft.
The difference between ‘1’ and ‘0’ is very important in math and physics, but on a single-use camera (and in your real life), the distinction is so hard to guess that it’s almost not there.
Sea lions appeared, first distant and sunbathing lumps on a long narrow sandbar, then inquisitive gray and black spotted visitors swimming out to our boat to stare up into our faces from deep liquid eyes.
Then I took my camera out of its hidden pocket and spent several minutes looking for one final picture. One friendly seal came quite close to the boat–but I wasn’t quick enough. Then I saw a chance to photograph two or three sea lion faces in the same image–as soon as the shutter clicked I knew the shot could have been better, that if I’d spent more time on it I might also have put the whole sandbar into its background.
Of course, I won’t know until I get the film developed if I got any sea lion picture at all. (Fortunately, a kind young Dutch couple said they’d send me some of their photos, so I still have something to hope for if that happens.)
Now, I really truly had zero photos left. Only my own eyes would see all the rest of the journey–I felt free and empty and very, very happy.
A wonderful trip.