My friend Bernhard came out of a mystery place – maybe the sea itself. I met him during our studies. We found each other like soulmates. We share our love for the Mediterranean Sea and its magical small islands. Bernhard used to drive at the Sea Coast, where his dad had taken him since he was a young boy. There he discovered the underwater sea life while lying on his air mattress for hours drifting along the bay. It was the birth of the desire for sea trekking.
We are roaming around. In search of oneness that we find here.
The saltwater has seeped through our skin and flows through us — the process of osmosis set in long ago. We breath air but our skin seems to have grown scales already. Our compacted lungs decompress as we draw breaths as deep as the ocean in front of our eyes.
We pause. The next beach lies one kilometer away and waves are reaching higher. The drift picks us up like leaves on the surface and the giant force of the Atlantic Ocean slowly rocks us back and forth. The fish are rocking too, the whole environment rocks with us. The only way through is to relax and just go with it. We trust the flow and stay in distance to the giant cliffs. The current drags us northwest. Everybody starts crawling. The dives are over. Now we need to catch some breaths.
We travel through the water and hit the ground after two kilometers.
Last drops of water run out of our hair and trickle down our bodies on a last salute, then the dryness starts and it is time to seek the shade. Beneath an overhanging cliff, in a cooling cave, under one ripening fig tree, under the quickly installed tarp some old driftwood serves us, washed up garbage reminds us. Somewhere over there thrones the city. We are enthroned over here. Completely alone. Entirely happy.
We then fall silent. Slowly we get comfortable with the pleasant atmosphere of raking the fire and preparing some food. Dates sweeten our rice, onions and garlic bring taste to the hot lenses. Never has food tasted better. We share our meal and some stories before the stillness of night takes over. Then sleep catches us quickly. One of us is sleeping on a huge rock off the coast, others have chosen the protection of one ledge. That night I didn’t sleep at all. The spectacular sound of the rumbling waves echo from the huge cliffs and keeps me up all night. I never had such an experience! In between consideration of falling rocks bursting down a couple hundred meters and the closeness of masses of water entering from the nearby coast. The guys are asleep. And the flood is coming. Opera of nature!
At dawn it already gets hot. One by one we strip our bodies from the ultra light sleeping bags like butterflies emerging from their cocoons and plunge into the gentle water. All naked we cut through the still surface and the coldness wakes our spirits. Freshly brewed mokka reminds us of our lives at home. We eat cereal out of our hands and drink demineralised seawater. It feels strange to open up the rustling aluminium paper of an energy bar. Any relict of civilization violates the peace and one who really unpacks its cellphone disappears silently. Communication shortens. What we experience can hardly be told and so even the chat reduces to the essential: “Everything’s fine. I will call you again.”
Presented by Eldorado
Idea & directing. Martina Schlüter
Camera. Cedric Schanze
Editor. Arturo Bastón
Music. In the swamp by Acronym (Northern Electronics)
Supported by. Bernhard Wache and ÁETEM
Seatrekker. Björn Brand
Words and photography. Martina Schlüter
Artwork. Ángela Palacios