Up before sunrise and out the door. The drive to Hale’iwa is uneventful and quick. Arriving at the marina I see the boat at the edge of the dock
with its huge cubic cage of silver bars glinting in the early morning sunlight.
All accounted for, we jump on board and head out into the bay.
Calm winds make for a smooth cruise and when we anchor at
the site a few miles off shore, the surface of the water is equally tranquil. I’m
relieved. My first fear was sea sickness. Quickly followed by worries about the
water being too cold. And only after dwelling on those first two items for a
while would I allow myself to acknowledge the fact that I was about to go snorkeling
in a cage surrounded by sharks.
The first group is called and they head to the side of the
boat to climb into the cage. No one makes a sound as they slip into the water.
My second worry is allayed a bit. The captain says the underwater visibility
is very bright with a distance of over 100 feet. He says the sunlight penetrating below the surface of the water casts an electric blue glow. Could this be a twinge of excitement I’m beginning
to feel?
Suddenly, the gray shape of a shark slides alongside the boat.
Followed by another. And then another. Then a pair of shark-like forms glide by. How
many could there be? The situation in the cage floating a few dozen feet away
from the boat seems very calm. No one even makes a splash. The only sound I
hear is the gentle lapping of waves along the sides of the boat and the excited
chatter of the other passengers as we all speculate about what it will be like
to see these nebulous gray forms take their true shape when our heads slip
under water.
Finally the time comes. I lower the mask over my eyes and fit the
snorkel piece into my mouth. I step down onto the first rung of the cage ladder and feel
the warm water surround my ankles. How is it possible that this is the same
ocean that chills the sunny shores of coastal California? Submerged up to my
neck, I turn around to face the bars of the cage and sink beneath the surface
of the water.
And there they are in all their smooth and elegant glory. Slicing through that electric blue water. Cold, steely eyes meet mine as a
shark passes within inches of my face. I catch my breath while I watch it slip
by and notice the long, thin scars on its back. Another shark has a notch taken
out of its fin. I admire the aerodynamic shape of its snout and the subtle gill
slits along its side. They are beautiful creatures.
Sharks weave and circle all around the cage. I twist and
turn to try and count them, but keep losing track at ten. Too many to count and
too enthralled to care, I continue to take in the view. Smaller silvery fish emerge against the watery background. I’m reminded of the
vastness of this submerged world and all its secrets that humankind will never
know.
Twenty minutes seem to pass by in the span of a few heartbeats and
then suddenly it’s time to leave. Out of the water and wrapped in a towel on the deck of the boat, I
feel noticeably changed. I faced my fears and was rewarded with one of the most
awe inspiring experiences of my life. How unexpected and how humbling. To know
that fear can transform into tranquil beauty as effortlessly as a shark gliding
through the deep blue ocean.
