There were other sea creatures that were quite dangerous as well. One was a kind of jellyfish, but probably unlike any you've ever seen before. We called it a sea wasp or a bluebottle because of its color. But this is no Portuguese man-of-war; it has tentacles that are ten to twenty feet long, and its sting is very toxic. One day I was spearfishing with my older sister, Janis, out in Nelley Bay off Magnetic Island, where my parents owned a little holiday shack. Janis became entangled in the tentacles of a sea wasp. I had just pulled myself up in our small boat when she breached the surface with a terrifying scream. I dove back in the water and dragged her to the boat. Seeing the welts on her legs and torso, and realizing that it was a bluebottle, I rowed to the beach as fast as I could. Janis was screaming and writhing in agony the entire way. My parents then rushed her to the local clinic, where she received the appropriate medical attention. Janis recovered fully, and rather than being life-threatening, the entire episode was more of a mental trauma than anything else for both of us.

Diving in to help my sister was a natural reaction and part of life in and around the Great Barrier Reef. Nothing scared me back then. I didn't think twice about riding a horse bareback at full speed along the beach, or strapping a tank on my back and scuba diving without lessons, or surfing in high waves with or without a surfboard. Actually, I taught myself to do all those things. Never had a lesson. I saw other people doing it. I spent some time thinking about it. And then I gave it a shot. I was always challenging myself to learn and understand new skills.

I did have a good teacher when it came to boating, however. One day my father came home from work and announced to Janis and me that he was going to help us build a small boat. Our house was built on stilts for cooling. And for the next several months, the dirt floor underneath looked like a small construction site as we studied our plans, laid out the materials, and assembled our small sabot, Peter Pan. I really enjoyed working with my father on that project. We immersed ourselves in the engineering of that little boat: crafting the ribs, overlaying the planks, making it watertight, and varnishing it. Janis and I joined the Townsville Sailing Club, where we learned how to sail and read the wind, how to get the maximum performance of our boat, and how to race it. In short, we learned all about boats on the water. Navigating, rules of the road — you name it, we learned it. We won several competitions with me as the skipper and Janis as the crew. Little did I know, many years later I would build a boat that would be heralded as the highest technical achievement in a motor yacht by Showboats magazine. My father taught me well.

Even though I was a curious kid and absorbed things that were happening around me, I really didn't like school very much. I participated in cricket, Aussie Rules football, rugby, track and field, swimming, and squash. The classroom, however, was too confining for me, and my mind was always wandering to the outer world. As a matter of fact, I was frequently getting the cane rapped across my knuckles (literally) for daydreaming, or for being brutally honest and telling people exactly what was on my mind. The subjects in which I did not do well were the ones that simply didn't interest me. I did like geography, however. I think it had something to do with being attached to the land and the outdoors. I loved the aspects of geography that went beyond memorizing cities, continents, and oceans. Learning to read topographic maps was enjoyable for me, including understanding scale, interpreting contour lines, recognizing highs and lows, et cetera. I was also interested in geology: igneous, metamorphic, and sedimentary rocks, the various types of soils, and aquifers and artesian wells.

Subjects like chemistry and French, however, were mundane for me. They just did not stimulate my interest. I remember one occasion when I was trying to solve an algebra homework problem and I just didn't get it. When I asked my father for help, he said, "Keep working and you'll figure it out." Another hour went by and I asked again. "Dad, I can't figure it out," I said. "Well, give it another try," he responded. Rather than helping me outright, I think my father was trying to get me to apply myself more — which might have been my biggest problem with school.

When I turned fifteen, my father and three partners set up their own engineering business and we moved 500 miles south to Brisbane. The Great Barrier Reef doesn't extend quite that far down, but here the surf beaches start. Forty miles south of Brisbane are the Gold Coast of Australia and the township of Surfers Paradise, and twenty miles north are Noosa and the Sunshine Coast. So it was around this time that I turned my attention to surfing.

I was a bit lonely after having left all my friends behind, so my mother suggested I go with her to play a quick nine holes of golf. I'd never tried it before, but Mum told me I had the basis of a reasonable swing. A couple of weeks later, she was playing in a tournament and I caddied for her (which, incidentally, was the one and only time I ever caddied for her). After her round, I asked if I could borrow her clubs and play by myself. She made golf look easy, and as I was fairly self-confident with my athletic abilities, I figured, If Mum can do it, why can't I? So I wandered onto the course and started whacking the ball around. A few went straight, but most were poorly hit. I even remember getting one ball stuck up in a pandanus tree and panicking. Back then in Australia, golf balls were expensive. Many came from the United States, and new ones were purchased in single packs. But the ball I hit into the pandanus tree was too high and too stuck for me to retrieve. It's probably still there.

And that's how I was introduced to golf: a simple invitation from my mother. Actually, she was an excellent athlete who played golf right up until the day before I was born. Perhaps that's how the sport got into my blood. Mum and I had a great relationship, and I always felt I could talk to her. Through our conversations, she instilled in me an emotional awareness about people and their feelings. My natural tendency was to be a little too up-front and in your face, which, of course, usually tends to make people recoil. My mother not only made me aware of that, she also taught me to care about others, to have an appreciation for good people, and to be loyal to my friends and family.

Over the years, Mum and I played a lot of golf together. She would educate me about the history of golf. And even though I wasn't very good yet, I told her that I wanted to one day win the British Open, because that's where golf was born. Never once did my mother tell me I couldn't do it. Rather, she told me I'd have to work exceptionally hard to achieve that particular dream. "I'll send you the trophy when I win, Mum," I would joke. "That'll be your reward for getting me started in golf."

Copyright © 2006 by Great White Shark Enterprises, Inc.

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