Jeroen Elout

Connecting people to the Ocean

Freediving in to caves, How Dangerous is it really? And how can it get done at minimum risk? 30/01/2020

Weather you like to freedive in to caves or ship wrecks, these tips could be handy. If you have additional tips, please share

Freediving in to caves, How Dangerous is it really? And how can it get done at minimum risk? Some tips on how to freedive in to caves at minimum risk


A song for the OFW's

🎶 The Balikbayan box 🎶

I know, you are not to well,
Even though, you don’t want anyone to tell,
Bravely you just carry on,
Even though you know something is wrong.

Oh you work hard. You got this far,
People respect you for who you are,
And you’re good in what you do,
But it doesn’t mean anything to you.

There’s a place, far away from here,
far away from your job,
far away from your duty,
It’s a place where the people smile,
where they shake your hand and say
“I haven’t seen you for a while”
It’s a place where it doesn’t rain all day,
Where the sky aint grey,
Where the sun I shining,
And you might have to save up for a year
And travel for a week but you can get there!

And slowly, years are passing by,
While you watch your kids grow up on skype.
You smile at the camera,
Pretend it ain’t to much.
But you’re craving,
For that human touch.

There is a place far away from here,
Far away from this town
Far away from the money,
It’s the place where your life began,
Where their missing you,
Where your heart belongs.
It’s a place under a mango tree,
Right by the sea, with a gentle breeze.
And you might have to save up for a year
And travel for a week but you can get there.

And the kids go to school, a house get’s built,
Not from plywood but bricks,
Not form bamboo but steel.
Prepared for earthquakes,
Ready for typhoons,
There’s progress in paradise.
And your absence,
Is a well worth sacrifice.

There’s a place far away from here,
Far away from this city
For away from this madness,
It’s a place, where they depend on you,
Where they long for you ,
Where they pray for you.
It’s a place where it doesn’t rain all day,
Where the sky aint grey,
Where the sun is shining.
And you might have to save up for a year
And travel for a week but you can get there.

Yeah, Far away, they’re way to far away.
All your life, for them.
All you are, is them.
All you’re heart, it never really left the place.
All you’re love, you send it home in a balikbayan box.



“It’s important to look fat” Look fat but be fit. Be fat in your face but be fast in your body. When you look fat, slow and unintelligent, no one will suspect that you'll kill them. No one will ever see you coming” said my dad.

Chapter 1. “MY FIRST TIME"

“Ok, just like we practiced, nice and slow, just aim the gun at him like you aimed it at the beer cans, it’s no different, remember you do it for your country, for society, you’re doing everyone a favor, no matter other peoples oppinions, you’re doing a good thing”

From a mile away I aimed at the big bold man in the orange suit who was sitting at a table outside the detention quarters drinking a cup of coffee, Karl Jones was his name, a death row inmate who had been waiting for his ex*****on for 2 years until his smart ass lawyer managed to get his case dismissed. Karl Jones had killed 12 people and he sure was going to kill a few more next week when they would set him free. We were not going to let that happen.

Trough my visor I looked at his hard face and at his tattoos, then I aimed for his heart. "I held my
Breath and squeezed the trigger. P**f.....
“I missed” I said while I watched him still sitting there
“No you didn’t” said my dad “that’s why we aimed for the heart and not for the head, just watch”

Karl Jones looked surprised. He still had one hand on his coffee cup, it seemed he was not sure if he should still take one other sip before he would die. He actually managed another sip before he slowly sunk forward with his chest on top of his coffee cup and his head on the table. The other inmates and guards just went on with their usual business, he just looked sleepy.
By the time we had rappelled down from the water tower the alarms went off.

I was 5 when I shot my first gun. Now I was 9 and shot my first man. It felt ok, I had seen my dad doing it many times before. I trusted him and his judgment. If he said the man had to go then the man had to go.

My dad always involved me in everything he did. Not like
Other dads that I had seen in some of the schools I had
Gone to. Most parents seem to drop their kids off and pick them up.

Sometimes I would play with them after school then I
Would notice how the parents lied to their kids. My dad had taught me how to recognize lies. Spotting lies was
Easy, finding the reason behind the lie was morekoo complex.

Most other dads were boring like they would work in an office. It’s not like it was their fault, it was not like they had been in the army and had been to war like my dad had been. “When you’re at war you learn things fast or you get killed. You adapt or you die” That’s what dad told me.

My dad did not look like a soldier, he was kind of small. He had a triple chin when he would look at his shoes which he did during most conversations, also he insisted on wearing thick round glasses even though his eyesight was fine. He told me: “It’s important to look fat”
Look fat but be fit. Be fat in your face but be fast i your
Body. When you look slow and unintelligent looking no one will ever suspect that you will kill them. No one will ever see you coming. Once you’ve done what we do, by-standers and authorities will just not want to talk to you. They will be looking for someone that looks strong, powerful and mean, there for always look weak, slow and insignificant.

I loved it whenever he spoke about US and WE and OUR
Job, OUR mission and OUR responsibility to serve our country as good as we could. It made me feel chosen. It gave me a feeling of purpose and that we were superior to others.

Before my dad went independent he was with the US
Army, that’s where he was taught to kill. He first wanted to be a be a Navy Seal, but he was too small. Yet during his military training his intellect and capabilities did not go unnoticed. He got recruited to a division of military that no one knew or cared about the NOKOCs (No One Knows or cares). Other division would joke about how small they were. After the
Joking all involved would forget them all together and that was meant to be. The NOKOCs were a low profile assassination team. Their profile was so dam low that if
You google about them you won’t find anything!

And that’s where my dad got trained. He got trained to be Invisible. How to go up in a crowd, how to clean up quietly and how to disappear without a trace, how to get insulted and just walk way without retaliating, how to go
Somewhere and leave without ever having been there, how to not exist, how to kill without weapons, with the strings in your shoes and the point of your pen.
How to kill and make it look like a natural cause or an accident.

My dad became good at his job “The cleaning” but as in
many military organizations within the NOKOCS there
were also some rotten apples. And my dad started having doubts. Was he still serving his country? Or was he serving greedy politicians?

After 9/11 nothing made sense anymore. It was no longer was clear who the enemy was and my dad decided to die, or at least to make it appear that way, just to be on record as “Killed in Action”. He actually sacrificed his pink for this. He could just have walked away after his last “gone bad” mission. A bomb blast killed about 10 NOKOCs. If he would just have left he would have been “Missing in Action” but then there
Is always a chance that someone still starts looking for you, so he did cut of his pink and threw it between the thorn apart bodies from his team mates. During investigation the technical unit took finger prints from all the fingers they could find including the pink of my dad and they declared him dead.

My dad was dead and forgotten exactly how he wanted it. From that point he started once again serving and protecting his country but this time on his own terms. My dad was not a hitman, he was not for hire. He worked for no one but himself. He was not trying to make a living.

He was living the code he had vowed for “to protect and
Serve” when the corruption within the US Army gave him
no longer the possibility to do this within the institution he became his own man.

We lived modest, rented average places and drove average cars. Yet my dad was never out of money. When it's your mission to kill the people that need to get
killed there is always some cash laying around to keep things going.

Off course I did want to be like my dad, it all made sense, so important and productive. So passionate, disciplined and organized.

And this was my big day, I had done some cleaning.
We rapped the gun in plastic and buried it between the
Bushes. Dad gave me the pepper spray, I spayed it on the
Gravel to make sure the K9 unit dogs would not to dig up
The gun cause we would come and pick it up in a few days. We got in the car and drove off. As we neared the crossing a road block had already been established. My dad did not flinch, he just kept driving. He placed his silly glasses on and opened his window to speak with the policeman that stopped us.

“Hello officer, what are you guys looking for, did
something happen, are you looking for somebody”?
“No sir it’s just a routine check, where did you just come
“l was just doing some shooting practice with my son you know” and he pointed at the light weight air gun lying on the back seat.

The officer looked at me “Is that true boy”?
“Yes sir” I said politely.
“Is you’re shooting getting any good”
“Yes sir” I said again.

The officers radio went off, some questions got asked and he replied.

“Do you have a permit for that weapon sir”
“Do I need to have a permit for an air gun officer”.
“ suppose not” he said “But maybe place it out of view”
“Oh I'll do that right away officer” said my dad” as he turned around and covered the gun.

“But officer, what are you guys looking for, maybe we have can be of help”

“Like I said sir, it’s just a routine check,you and your son
Can go now!”

“Ok officer, you have a good day”

And that is how once again my dad got send away from
crime scene he had created himself.

"Dad, why do you always start a conversation with the
officials that are supposed to arrest you?" “Cause l want to know what they know. And I listen to what I hear on their radios. Did you listen to their radio?"

“No I didn’t” I said

That’s OK son, next time you will because you’re a good

Photos from Jeroen Elout's post 24/04/2019

🎅 The truth about santa 🎅

When I was 5 years old I had the feeling something fishy was going on with Santa Claus, I mean hoverboards were not yet invented yet somehow Santa's reindeers were able to pull the sled through the sky. How do you explain that? Reindeer fart power?

Anyway, I was ahead of my age and decided to start an investigation. I had been observing Santa Claus, Mrs. Claus and their elf at SM Mall of Asia and I waited until they left the building to follow them. Where do you think Santa Claus stays when he is town? He won't go back to the Northpole just for the evening because according to google map that's 5000 miles away and I dont think his lame reindeers move at warp speed. I followed them on my three weeler pedal trike as they entered a jeepney.

They got out at Taft MRT and checked- in at Kamagong Hotel. As I walked into the lobby, I was just in time to overhear them getting assigned to room 205, just before the security guard wooshed me away saying "No kids allowed!"

As I said, I was ahead of my age. On my dad's old Iphone I quickly hacked into Pasay City property registry, downloaded a blueprint of Kamagong Hotel and found out that room 205 was bordering the supermarket next door. I walked into the supermarket, up to the second floor, got my measuring tape out of my pocket and started measuring my way along the shelves untill I knew I was standing on the other side of room 205. It did happen to be the cereal section. I moved away the boxes to get to the wall. I got my dads chordless power drill out of my backpack, drilled a hole to room 205 and inserted my uncle Oswald's spy camera. (My uncle Oswald works for the FBI) and paired the spy cam to the Iphone. I was just in time to press the record button to see Santa Claus taking his beard off. I knew it! And now I had proof! And I knew I needed proof because without proof, you don't have anything. My parents would not believe anything if they did not see it on TV.

After the beard, also the foam belly came off, then his clothes and to my surprise also the elf started removing her green clothes and the pointed tips of her ears. Mrs. Claus was not around.

Oh my, from what I learned that night I'm still traumatized! My life has never been the same. "Birds and bees? Yeah right! This fake Santa Claus did not only cheat on Mrs. Claus, he was also hurting the elf who was by now moaning and screaming "Santa stop, you bad Santa, Santa stop" but Santa did not stop.

All at once, my shoulder was grabbed by a surprised supermarket worker "What the hell is going on?" He yelped and took me to his supervisor who started asking me questions like: Where are your parents? What's their number? And why are you drilling holes in our wall? It didn't take long before my parents came to pick me up.

"Mom, mom Santa Clause is not real. I have proof!"

"What are you talking about? What's with you drilling holes in the wall, are you nuts?! Who you think has to pay for that? What were you thinking?"

"I was collecting proof......" I tried to say.

But mom did not listen and continued: "I want to hear nothing about it, I'll let your dad deal with you once we get home."

The conversation with my dad didn't go much better. They simply didn't want to listen to me. I was grounded. No TV for a week. Not that I cared. I was more anoyed about them being so stubborn and ignorant.

But who cares?! I did not need them to reveal the identity theft I had witnessed and recorded just hours ago.

The next day at preschool during our lunchbreak I did get my playmates together. "Guys you got to see this, Santa is not real! Look at him taking his beard off!" We watched the footage on my dad's old I phone.

We did not notice that the kindergarten teacher was looking over our shoulder "Oh my, what are you guys looking at?!"

Five minutes later I was showing the same movie to the school principal who was the first to watch the complete video....... "You see, Santa is not real" I said. Then also the school psychologist and a social worker followed and looked with serious faces at my news breaking solid video evidence.

The principal asked:
"Boy, where did you get that tape? Do you know what po*******hy is? Do you know it's illegal?"

My parrents arrived at school with grim faces. My mom was crying and I did understand her concern, finding out Santa is not real must have been quite a shocker to her.

"This is not about Santa Claus" said mom while sobbing, as the sobbing turned in to whaling dad held her in his arms while the guy of social services took me away.

I did end up in an institution with some very strange and disturbed kids. I did preach them the truth. "Guys there is a huge conspiracy going on. Adults brainwash us and make us believe in Santa to manipulate, control and scare us. You have been bullied in to behaving properly while there was no real need for it."

It's my uncle Oswald who got me out of the institution and had me work for the FBI for a while as their youngest spy. Being a 5 year old spy has its benefits. No one suspects you and you can pretty much walk into any building. If you get caught you just say " Im looking for my mommy" or "Have you seen my ball?"

When I turned 10 my parents picked me up and took me to church for comfirmation. That's a whole other story about a man who apperently also has a beard, and knows everything, and made every thing in 7 days.

Investigation will follow.


One Breath, One Dive, One Shot at Tablas pinnacle.



One Breath, One Dive, One shot at the Blue Hole in Tablas, Romblon, Philippines

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A song for the OFW's🎶 The Balikbayan box 🎶I know, you are not to well, Even though, you don’t want anyone to tell,Bravel...
One Breath, One Dive, One Shot at Tablas pinnacle.
DEPTH TRAINING One on One           One Breath, One Dive, One shot at the Blue Hole in Tablas, Romblon, Philippines




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