I knew it wouldn't outlast the winter, so I took my tent down. Already it was sagging heavily under the rain water collected on the roof. After a code red storm warning I succumbed to the inevitable. And what's more, I live in a real house again.

Sitting on this rusty mushroom that moors the ferries, my thoughts drift on the fuming vortexes down at Doolin Pier. Where has she gone, where is she now? The last I heard is three weeks ago, an exciting telephone call.

Since I'm Headquartering in my tent I'm so much closer to the elements. It's like living inside an organism that is constantly in touch with the ever changing weather. The skin is vibrating under the torrents and the skeleton is heaving in the gale.

Last September I had a daily average of 204 visitors on Dolphin Address. I'm happy to welcome all of you and provide a few minutes of happy reading per edition. As you know access to my website has been free these past almost 12 years. And I'd like to keep it that way.

To call today an Indian Summer would sarcastically qualify as Irish optimism, but a great day it was. The big candle was warming away a chilly breeze and the water was as crystal clear as it gets. I was in great spirit and Dusty tuned in; we had a grand, nearly two hour swim.

Actually I set out to film the Trigger fishes that Huba Buba commented to be at the reef. Supposing he meant 'The Donkey', the rocky triangle at the corner of the cliffs that extend from the large parking place and that submerges at high tide.

I remember them from White Strand, September 2009, when we called them 'Botox jellies'. They have the green of dirty jade, they're tiny, a bit like baby mushrooms and have disproportionally long tentacles. And they come by the dozen and are outnumberingly unavoidable.

On the 18th of June Feargus Callagy, of Freedive Ireland, Caitriona and me had a fabulous swim with Dusty in the harbour of Doolin. One of us was not there. Sean Callagy had been diagnosed with cancer and things were looking very gloomy indeed.

I was in Holland minding my own heart. And only sparsely informed about the Doolin drama. So on my return, first thing in the morning, I did a cave call on Dusty.

The gas lines hang on a hook off the steep net. So I don't stumble about them or tread a leak. If you want to go smart, go primitive. The elementary problems you have to solve inspire wonderfull practical solutions.

Until recently I attributed Dusty's approaching from behind to predatory behaviour. But the fact that she does not come to the pier at low tide does cast a light from a different angle on her motivation.

When I have my flippers on I am where I'm going, but with the monofin and waterwing I am where I am. This profundity was revealed to me when for the sake of maneuverability I went into the water flippered and wingless. And Dusty wasn't too thrilled either.

I'm not going to tell you now about how I was carried off by an ambulance, with an excruciating infection, to the hospital in Galway. And spent a week in wait and fear for even worse. But rather, how I woke up on the meadow again.

Bygones be bygones, but I think as candidates for the human race we missed a major opportunity 50 million years ago. We could have freed ourselves of gravity by joining the dolphins. I admit, we would have fettered ourselves to the surface, but just imagine the freedom from materialism we would have saved. May my whales and dolphins speak for themselves.

One does not need to have a degree in Biology to understand that dragons and unicorns are made up creatures. But on the other hand Nature can be surprisingly inventive. There is a magical twilight zone from what is really out there into what reason could open up to.

If you don't believe in coincidence then it is logical, yes even of poetic justice, when your past throws you an overdue reward. Or recovers a forgotten treasure. Or returns a lost thought photo album.

Yesterday my dry suit got into a wet suit. Harvesting waves is a dodgy enterprise. Too close for comfort have become comfortable close-ups. No words, just waves!

I have seen 'Irish Roulette' defined as sending something valuable by 'An Post', the Irish mail service. That maybe theeth-grinding true, but to me it also pertains to photographing waves while the tide is rising. Like yesterday, at the Doolin Triangle.

Up to a point, I have a compulsive order disorder. In other words, I'm a control freak. It makes perfectly sense to me to have a bee dangling from the roof side with a spade and a bucket. Even though I only know this outside world as being covered with snow.