Snorkeling in Tofo: The Dramatic Conclusion

     Last you read, I was wedged between scuba brackets and the side of the boat with an impromptu g-string. Which was nice. To add to the humility of it all, the skipper hit the throttle as I tried to stand. This unnecessary hitting of the throttle forced the Zodiac to rear, which left me floundering on the floor of the boat. Why such speed was required is unknown, as is why they couldn’t have waited for me to situate myself. Customer service, seemingly, wasn’t a concern.

     As we blazed across the water, trouble was brewing with two of my volunteer friends. They had curled up on the floor of the boat moaning. I’m a neophyte seaman yes, but even I could tell the motion of the ocean was having an ill effect on them. This did not concern the skippers. “You’ll just have to deal with it. We aren’t heading back for only two.” Another fine display of customer service. And while I could understand the philosophy when eighty-miles off shore, I’m not sure that I understood it when only a few miles from shore. Nonetheless, the decision for my puking friends to remain on or off the boat was not mine to make. The show must go on and this show was about to start.

     We were instructed to keep our eyes peeled for large shadowy figures in the water. Large, shadowy figures eh? Does anything good ever come from a large, shadowy figure? These figures would be whale sharks and when spotted jump in and join them. Yes, by all means, let’s jump into the deep, dark, depths of the ocean and have a swim with these monstrosities. This idea sounded dubious but no one seemed bothered, so why should I? Actually, I could think of many reasons.

     It didn’t take but mere seconds for the shadowy figures to appear and before I knew it, everyone piled into the water. I, on the other hand, peered over the edge of the boat thinking that this “shadow” was enormous and perhaps there was a better way to die. Then again, Jonas spent three long days in the belly of a whale and managed to make it out alive. Maybe I could too. And with that I was in the water, flipper free thinking they were more of a hindrance than a help.

     By the time I reached the water the sharks had swum away and everyone sprang back into the boat. Here we go again; skipper Aussie grabbed my arms and flung me into the boat. I was once again wedged. No longer embarrassed by the proceedings, I quickly righted myself and joined my friends and the two Germans that sat along the side of the boat. The skipper idled along searching for more shadows.

     There were three shadowy figures this time and without hesitation I slid off the side of the boat, careful not to let go of the rope. I poked my head into the water and took a good look around. Drats! I missed the sharks again. Struggling with breathing through the blasted snorkel I lifted my head only to find that everyone had swum away from the boat, presumably following the sharks. The only logical thing to do was to wait until the skipper pulled me into the vessel. What I hadn’t counted on was the skipper nailing the throttle while I was still holding on. What on earth were these skippers playing at? Is dragging a naïve snorkeler along the side of the boat in the Skipper Handbook? This was not part of plans A, B and/or C.

     I had no choice but to let go. Clearly dragging alongside a rearing Zodiac wouldn’t be a clever idea. The ocean was still not a friend of mine and this worried me. This would have been an ideal time for a life jacket. But the skippers, who I can only assume were so confident in their life saving abilities, found no need for such immaterial devices. Who needs them? My only option was to swim to the rest of the group. Their flippered feet had carried them some distance and I, not being much of a swimmer on any level, was going to have a whale of a time getting there (sorry couldn’t resist). With fear riddling my body I managed a dog paddle-cum-front crawl, slash breaststroke with a hint of sidestroke, mixed with other nondescript variations of propulsion to get me to the others.

     By the time I neared them I was exhausted, and exhaustion in deep water is disconcerting. I, briefly, allowed myself to sink hoping to catch a glimpse of a whale shark and to take a little break from swimming. It was a two-fold plan. As I slowly descended towards the ocean floor, I was lucky enough to see a whale shark. It was gigantic and slow moving. Gray but littered in yellow spots and stripes. I found the whole experience strangely calming. It was clear the whale sharks had no interest in divers, as they leisurely swam through the water in search of a little plankton and krill. Apparently, the whale sharks didn’t scare me, the ocean did. The vast ocean, with its currents, tides, waves and that little thing we like to call a tsunami. It’s a good thing to know.  

     Satisfied with my rest and the whale shark sighting, I thought I had better surface before I truly drowned. When my head popped out of the water, I could see the skippers idling about. To my shock and amazement, they were about to idle right over the German woman. I pulled my mask and snorkel onto my head as I thought this deserved a distress call. Needless to say, if the skippers hadn’t noticed they were about to mow someone down, they certainly weren’t going to notice my mask and snorkel placement.

     “Look out!” I yelled to the German woman whose name I didn’t catch. Maybe she doesn’t speak English. Perhaps I should use some of my German.

     “Donke shon!” Nothing. Only one bullet left and it was a long shot.

     “Bitte shon!” Note to self: yelling out thank you and you’re welcome does not and I dare say will never convey an urgent message.

     There was nothing left for me to do other than watch as the skippers glided over our German comrade. How these two men can go as far as referring to themselves as skippers is beyond me. If trying to drag me along like a harpooned whale weren’t enough, I’d say boating over a paying customer was. Thankfully, for the German woman, the propellers were not propelling and she came away unscathed. The skippers were none the wiser. 

     With everyone having spotted a whale shark, a near decapitation, and two very ill passengers, it was time to dock this Zodiac. The skipper once again lay down on the throttle, the Zodiac reared and we flew along nearing the shore at a rapid pace. The closer to the shore we got the faster we went. We had to clear the break somehow and going at a speed that flirted with the idea of becoming airborne was, apparently, how this was accomplished.  

     “Hold on!” Skipper Aussie yelled. “This is going to be a rough landing.”

     Even I, an ignorant ocean goer, didn’t need anyone telling me this was going to be a forceful docking. When you make a B-line for the beach at 60 knots, it leaves little option other than discomfort. We hit the shore at top speed. The boat came to an abrupt halt, thrusting everyone forward, and before any of us whipped back, the boat listed heavily, depositing some of my shipmates and me onto the sand.

     I stood up and dusted some of the sand off. Whale sharking. Check. Don’t need to do that again.

Snorkeling in Tofo

     Snorkeling in the middle of an ocean was not something I had ever envisioned myself doing. I don’t believe, as a general rule, that snorkeling suits me. I don’t swim well. I panic if I can’t breathe through my nose. Swimwear isn’t very becoming on me. It just doesn’t sound fun on any level.

     During, 2008 in a desperate attempt to sort out my life, I signed up, on a whim, for four-weeks of volunteer work and two-weeks of travel in Africa. Part of this adventure I was about to partake in was to spend a week in a small town called Tofo on the coast of Mozambique. During the week in Tofo we would dedicate an entire afternoon to snorkeling in the Indian Ocean with, wait for it… whale sharks. Let me just point out that a whale shark is neither whale, nor shark, but instead a thirty-five foot long, filter feeding fish that happens to weigh in at thirty-odd tons.

     Why I chose this as my first snorkeling experience is inexplicable, but I did.

     There was a large group of us heading out that snorkeling day. Along with the group of people that I knew from the volunteering stint, there was also a German husband and wife duo, an Australian skipper and a local skipper. I was the only one that had never snorkeled before. Both skippers assured me that there would be plenty of time for me to get a little practice in before heading out whale sharking. I liked the idea of having practice time, and as I had seen a swimming pool nearby I assumed that was where the practice would take place.

     After we were kitted out in the well-used snorkeling gear, that admittedly, I had concerns about putting in my mouth, on my face and on my feet, I learned that the practice would NOT take place in the pool but instead the vastness of the Indian Ocean. If the above mentioned were not perturbing enough I was informed that the one item, the very item that gave me confidence, would not be used. Why a tour company specializing in water based tours found the need to do away with life jackets I found perplexing. I didn’t think to bring my own so I was just going to have to hope for the best.

     We launched, and by launched I mean pushed by hand, the Zodiac into the rough seas and set sail toward the practice area. I sat on the edge of the Zodiac clutching a flimsy rope that I suspected was to prevent me from falling in. I had my mask and snorkel around my neck because apparently if you rest it on your head you are sending out a distress call. And even though I was inwardly sending out a distress call, there was no need to cry wolf. My black plastic flippers, that I put on prematurely, were melting to the tops of my feet because of the hot African sun. And to add to my discomfort was the must-wear snorkeling/scuba company’s swim shirt that was smelly and two sizes too small. As my boobs are about two sizes too big the shirt didn’t come down as far as one might have hoped. So not only was I going to undoubtedly flail around in the water gasping for air I was going to be poorly dressed while doing so.

     “Okay this is it. If you want to practice this is the best place.” The Aussie skipper announced as though all first time snorkelers practice two-miles off shore in dark, eerie, rough waters.

     My nerves piled up as I prepared to slide into the water. The ocean was no friend of mine. But I didn’t want the pesky fear of dying preventing me from experiencing this adventure. With gritted teeth I swung my legs over the side of the Zodiac and pushed off with my hands. To my horror, my dry skin screeched loudly along the rubber side stilting my entrance into the water. It, however, did not stilt the momentum of my swimsuit bottom that shot upward. I was perched in an instantly made G-string bikini bottom, mooning the other whale sharkers, and momentarily adhered to the side of the boat. As the red in my face grew crimson, gravity finally intervened and I belly flopped into the ocean. I hit the water dog paddling, kicking feverishly with my flippered feet. My hand made G-string firmly in place. Rightly or wrongly I assumed that having flippers on would propel me through the water not only with ease but also at speed, like a minnow. What I hadn’t anticipated was because of many years of spraining my ankles the force of the flippers against the water created an almost unbearable pain. There would be no streaking through the water for me today. Instinctively, I moved on to Plan B, which was simple but clearly not well thought out, as I didn’t know there would be a need for multiple plans.

     The idea was that I would tread water and just kind of peer in from above at the sea below. Obviously, this didn’t work as treading water calls for a lot of ankle movement and as this created pain, I began to sink towards the ocean floor. The sinking created a panic, the panic created erratic breathing, which in turn had me swallowing cupfuls of Indian Ocean.

     Immediately, I formed Plan C. I dog paddled my way back to the edge of the boat and took a firm hold of the string that had prevented me earlier from falling off the boat. I could now confidently poke my head into the water without the under lying threat of sinking. As I peered into the dark green water, I realized almost at once that I couldn’t even see my flippered feet. This meant I had no idea what may be lurking beneath. The thought made me uncomfortable. However, it wasn’t every day I found myself in the middle of the Indian Ocean about to swim with whale sharks. I would not allow my unfounded fears of the deep to put the kibosh on this once in a lifetime experience.  As long as I had the side of the boat to hold onto, I could safely swim/not swim with the whale sharks.

     “Everyone in. Practice is over.” The boat started up and people started jumping back in. They did this so effortlessly, I didn’t foresee any issues as I approached the task. I slipped my mask and snorkel onto my head and placed my other hand on the side of the boat.

     “Remove your mask from your head unless this is your idea of a distress call.” All right, settle down. I slid my mask and snorkel around my neck and placed my hand back onto the side of the boat. As I clung there, I realized that there was no way on earth I was going to be able to get myself into the boat. How were people literally porpoising themselves into the boat? Clearly, these same people can spring onto the back of a horse from the ground. 

     Once everyone was loaded into the boat the skipper thought, in his infinite wisdom, that maybe I needed a little help. He grabbed my arms, and while he pulled with all his might he yelled at me to kick. I slid into the boat like a salmon into a cooler. The only difference was that I slid into the metal brackets used to hold scuba tanks in the middle of the boat and found myself wedged between that and the side. G-string still in position.

     The experience was going about as well as I could have imagined and all that remained was the impending snorkel with the actual shark, that isn’t a shark.

     To be continued.