I have a good friend who was once swallowed to the chest by a great white shark erupting from below him as he treaded water off Point Conception. The shark spit him out in mid air, and he miraculously survived. I heard the story from him a couple of years later, and as he bent his legs into the position they were caught in by the shark, the scars came scarily into register, forming a perfect shark jaw.
But what really sticks with me is when he said that the only inkling he had that the beast was organic, and not some inanimate submarine or torpedo, was that he could feel the torque of the tail strokes as the shark rose out of the sea. I have no idea how Rob ever gets back in the water after that, and have nothing but awestruck admiration for his continued “waterman” existence.
A few nights ago, the three of us were together, diving, again. We decided to do the lobster-seahare-shrimp shuffle that we do so well. I looking forward to inhaling and exhaling to stay a little up, and descend a little as we present first the sea hare, and then the shrimp. We cut up some jumbo shrimp, cause that is all we have, and putt out to see if we could do the dance again.
What happened to the magic? It started with the dive plan. John was to hold and present the sea hares. As soon as the lobster responded (or not) to the sea hare, I would move in with the shrimp. Dan was lighting and filming. I decided to increase our overall efficiency, so I told John to go ahead and look for more lobster nearby during the short time I was presenting shrimp to the subject lobster. Dan didn’t hear me say that.
Second, there was a bit of a surge running. Not enough to dominate, just enough to throw you off balance.
We moor the whaler to Siwash on the buoy closest to the south-side cliffs, get our gear on, and descend.
John presents to the first lobster. No Pounce. This is the critical behavior for this dive, for our contention is that lobsters will reject sea hare as food, but not food in general. I descend down with the shrimp, by exhaling to sink, but the surge throws off my presentation. Meanwhile, John has moved on as instructed. The lobster finally attacks the shrimp, as we had expected. Fine. But the lighting to record this behavior is gone. I look up, and Dan is swimming after John who has located another lobster. I try to motion to Dan to stay with the lobster while I present the shrimp, but I’m not at all sure he gets what I mean.
It’s dark. The visibility sucks, and we’re moving back and forth with the surge. John is getting frustrated. He spooks a couple of lobsters in a row; they tail-flip before he can put the sea hare on them. I’m feeling the creeping frustration. Finally, John does a successful presentation. Another No Pounce. I move in with the shrimp. Can’t get the shrimp to the lobster for all the surge. The lobster is moving, but not yet spooked. Finally he runs into the shrimp. He attacks, and again the lighting suddenly disappears. Exasperated, I look around for Dan. He’s chasing John again. I’m breathing hard. Suddenly, wham! Something hits my tank so hard I feel a little whiplash. I’m startled, and a bit angry cause I think it is either Dan or John. I look over my shoulder and there is a HUGE shape there. I remember uttering a loud shout, very much like I do in a movie theater when the monster suddenly attacks. I turn to face….......... an overhang. We had moved into an unfamiliar area that has a very high rock with an overhang. Apparently, my frustrated breathing had made me more buoyant and less aware, so I was floating up, probably pretty quickly. I THOUGHT I was staying in one place so when I hit the rock, it felt like something was hitting me hard.
I drop down to where John and Dan are. All this time, John just noticed I was having “buoyancy control problems.”
He moves his hands like the umpire calling the runner safe. This means stop and adjust your buoyancy compensator until you are neutral again. I do this. Adrenaline still coursing through my veins. I think of my friend in the jaws of an inanimate behemoth. Sometimes this life gets just a little too rich.
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