“The kelp forest at about eight metres is incredible right now. Everything's just carrying on, completely indifferent to whether anyone's there to see it. I don't know why, but I find that strangely comforting sometimes.”
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Rowan grew up in Falmouth, on Cornwall's south coast - a harbour town that smells of salt and diesel and pasties, where the sea is an ordinary presence rather than a romantic one and where most people's relationship with the ocean is functional rather than philosophical. His father worked on commercial fishing boats until his back went; his mother managed the accounts for a small marine survey company. The sea was simply there, which meant Rowan took it for granted until he was seventeen and went on a recreational dive for the first time and understood, about fifteen metres down, that there was an entire other world he had been living on top of without knowing it. That understanding has not …
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