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.
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