I've made my peace with the island, now I need to make peace with the sea
'Cuz if I don't make peace with the sea, it's going to turn me into fish food.
So, yesterday (Makalewena) was the first time I've been in the water since the last time I was in Hawai'i. This is excluding things like pools and jacuzzis, because they don't count. Yesterday was the first REAL water I've been in since my last Hawai'i trip, in October of 2005.
Today, we went diving. I had some miserable experiences, followed by one significant triumph, and I'll give it to you (whoever "you" is) in the order I got it.
We went to a spot that was a nice haul down a pretty beat-up 4wd road (I can't wait to drive a Jeep in Hawai'i!). My buddy had cautioned me that if the swell looked rough to me, we'd just go elsewhere. He'd been to this particular site before when it was rough enough that even he decided to skip it. So I cautioned him that he knew ALL of the extent of my experience with the ocean, and that I knew VERY little of how to tell if the swell looked rough, or what. So we went off what he thought, and until we got into the water, it was "okay" to him. I even had the good sense to wear my rashguard, and even added an extra 4lbs of weights to compensate for it, just in case. If 24lbs of weights can't get me down, then I've got bigger problems than not diving.
The first problem: my damned new boots have the freakin' WORST soles for walking on freakin' ANYTHING. You know how rough a'a lava is? Yeah. The damned things slipped on freakin' a'a lava. Nearly fell repeatedly, complete with gear. So we get to the water. Swell's up just a bit. But I can't freakin' stand on DRY a'a, how the hell am I going to stand on WET, slick, slippery, SMOOTH rock? Oh crap.
So I inch my way into the water. A carefully aimed 3" wave could have knocked my feet out from under me. I get out to where I'm up to my calves, and still have 20 yards to go. That 3" wave's bigger cousin knocks me on my ass. Ow. I'm starting to get concerned.
I get out to about two feet of water. On my knees, that is. My buddy has noticed my troubles, and recommends putting my fins on and crawling out with some air in my BC. I clamber to slightly deeper water to comply. Ow. If I'd have thought about it, I'd have been VERY glad that I was wearing my rash guard. As it was, I was trying to hold onto rocks so the foot-high waves wouldn't throw me around so damn much. It *hurt*.
So I'm trying to get my fins on in between waves. I'm starting to get frustrated. Ten minutes later I've failed repeatedly to put my first fin on and met a diadema urchin a couple of times. I hate the girl at the dive shop that told me urchin spines wouldn't go through the soles of these boots. I'm getting a bit panicky. The waves have pulled me out a bit farther. Though this is the direction I want to go, I want to be going under my own power. It's scary as hell that I can't stay in one spot. It's even more disconcerting that I can't get my darn fins on. I finally think, "Okay, just get the fins on, and then you can control your direction." I let the next wave toss me while I struggle with my fin. Where did these waves come from, anyway? I swear they weren't there when we were looking at the swell. Some near and not-so-near misses with urchins later (ow), I finally have one fin on. Shit. I still need to put another one on.
I'm getting very concerned. No, I'm getting downright scared. I'm bruised, poked, and frustrated. The waves are bigger. I can't even hold onto a rock now. I try to chill a bit and do the same with my second fin. Next wave totally rolls me over. The tank on my back has my face underwater. My snorkel is a straw. I can't breathe. No worries. I have air. I jam my regulator in my mouth and slowly, deliberately right myself so the next wave can push me around a bit more.
My friend is starting to show some concern. It takes a LOT to concern him. I'm really scared at this point. Practically crying, and absolutely hyperventilating. I jam my second fin on, snap the strap shut, pull it tight and start trying to crawl the rocks at my friend's direction. I realize how badly I'm hyperventilating and switch out my reg for my snorkel. I try to chill out. I try to calm myself. All I can think is how I've never, EVER been actually shaken up in the water before.
The waves are pulling me past my friend. He tells me to kick out away from the rocks, use my air if I need. He'll be right behind me, he says. I do as he's asked, and try to calm myself a bit by looking at the varieties of life below me as the bottom opens out away from me. I remember to put more air in my BC just in case, and kick out. I'm still hyperventilating.
My friend is kicking out now, a short way south of me. I start kicking to meet him, concerned that he might not know how frightened I am now, and that he might just keep kicking toward the dive site and not let me catch up. He waits instead. I meet up with him, and he starts telling me stories of other rough dives. I'm starting to chill out. He's very, very reassuring. My breathing's calm, and he suggests that, although we're not at the site, we could just go down here and then over to the site along the bottom. I agree. He points to an area of red lava, says we'll come out there, it'll be a bit tricky, but much, much easier than what I'd just experienced. I say okay, and we start down.
But I can't get down. Twenty-four freakin' pounds of weights and I -can't- -get- -down-. I keep trying. I try to kick a bit. I'm getting frustrated. How can this be? I've *lost* weight since my last visit here. How can this possibly be? I'm really in a sorry state now, overweight, underweighted, about as graceful as a dinosaur in a tar pit - and a fat one at that. I'm hyperventilating again. I keep getting scared that I can't get a breath, even though my air's right there and flowing fine. I can't get away from the surface of the water, I'm scared that I can't breathe, and my buddy's on the bottom taking pics of kole tangs. He looks up at me. I gesture that I just can't get down. I'm crying again, in mini silent sobs. He comes to the surface, and I explain that I can't get down, and I'm freaked out again. He tells me to breathe a bit, chill out some. Asks how much more weight I need. I don't know. A lot, I think. A couple of pounds, minimum. I tell him I want to try one more time to get down, I was able to get a foot down before I freaked out, maybe if I just relax....
I can just *barely* get down. *Barely*. I have to kick to get to the bottom. It's a shallow dive, maybe 20' at this point. My buddy hands me a rock. It's perhaps less than a pound. I stick it in my pocket and try to chill out some more.
I start to remember how to breathe. I remember how to relax. I start trying to look around and stop worrying. I see a coris wrasse, neat. And those kole tangs. Oh! Four-spot butterflies! Nice! And so forth. I begin to unwind and enjoy the dive some. I follow my friend, but not too closely. The currents this shallow are erratic and throw me at him a bit, I don't want to make him miss a picture. So I stay back ten or fifteen feet and just start looking around.
I see a red spiral of nudibranch eggs! So beautiful! Nudi eggs are some of the most beautiful things in nature. I watch them flow in the current, like a red rosebud growing out of the rock. Astounding. NOW I'm feeling alright. But I could really use a few more pounds. I'll keep my eyes open for another rock.
I look at a shimmery blue-black diadema urchin. Such a captivating color. Such a mesmerisingly beautiful color. Uhh, I think I have a piece of his nephew in my foot. Oh well. We swim under a huge archway. A "puka", it's called. This was an opening of a lava tube, once upon a time. I watch the animals, even turn on my back to swim - the fish are swimming upside down along the cieling, too! I see some of the largest moorish idols I've ever, ever seen. Bigger than dinnerplates, they are.
My buddy is photographing a crown-of-thorns star. I remember to watch out for them. That'd be an awful thing to knock into. I swim into the next puka. It goes far in, is a cave or tunnel rather than an archway. I see a couple of animals, then swim back out. I go along the main puka some more, and see how beautiful the sunlight is as I pass under another arch. I like swimming upside-down like this. No wonder the fish do it.
I've let every last drop of air out of my BC, and still am just having buoyancy issues. I realize the floor beneath me is covered in large round rocks. I take one. It's maybe four pounds. I carry it with me as I go.
I peer wistfully through a tunnel that goes from our puka into the next cove. I want to go through. My friend is photographing a couple of HUGE puffers. I watch a pair of ornate butterflies on the other side of the tunnel. I want to go through. I watch a group of moorish idols on the other side. I wait for my friend. He sees me. He sees the ornate butterflies on the other side of the tunnel and he goes through. Yay! I follow.
I show him my air gauge, and feel like I've been breathing faster and harder than any five people should. We start to head towards our exit point, and finally come up to talk before attempting our exit. He suggests we just ride the waves and crawl along the flat red lava flow until we're mostly out, take off our fins, and hoof it back to the truck. It's only barely farther than our entrance point was. I agree, and we go. The waves wash us up, and I meet a bunch of new rocks. Ow. The swell picks up, again, as I go to pull off my fins. My damn fin is stuck, won't come off. I pull and wriggle. A wave picks me up and plops me higher on the lava. Now my bum hurts, too.
I get my fins off, and try to stand. Damn these boots! The first several steps, though the flow we're on is flat, have me falling. I'm screetching like a girl each time I slip. Well, I AM a girl, but I don't usually screech like one. I'm disappointed in myself. I'm also VERY depressed at this point, and wonder if my friend is fed up with me now, or angry, or if he's lost all confidance in me, or what.
I finally get off the lava and onto the gravel and sand beach. I get back to the truck with no incidents.
At the truck, I first unload my pocketed rock and then pull off my first weight pouch. I reach for the second one. It's gone. Ohhhhhhhh shiiiiiiiit. I tell my friend we may need to stop at the dive shop and show him my empty weight pocket hole. This is our other friend's BC that I've borrowed, so I have to replace the pouch.
Oh. Wait a minute - didn't I have trouble getting down? The dang weights must have pulled off at the surface, where I got tossed about! You know what this means, right? I was SERIOUSLY short on weight - AND I STILL GOT DOWN! I had EIGHT pounds less than I'd intended - and I still got to the bottom, and only had about 4-5 pounds of rock that I picked up! I'm elated at this. My friend comments that I must have a VERY low percentage of body fat, to have been able to weigh as much as I do and still get down on so little dive weights. I can't say as I agree; I have rolls I could hide small cars in. But it makes me feel a WHOLE lot better.
We go look in the shallows for the weight pouch. My buddy uses mask and snorkel and darts about. Right, there are no waves *now*. Sheesh. Even if there were, though, my friend would still be more fish than man. He comes up out of the water - with the weight pouch! I can't believe it!
We chill out for a while, I apologize tremendously for freaking out on him.... in retrospect, there was no reason at all for me to be scared; I mean, really, what's the worst that could happen? I get cut up a bit? Bruised? Land on an urchin? It's okay. Worse things can happen walking down the sidewalk. There was nothing to be scared about. All the same, my friend says he won't take folks there any more if it's not absolutely completely calm. He apologizes for not telling me clearly what the conditions were. I apologize again for getting panicky. He brushes the apology aside; tells me it's unnecessary.
After we sit and read for a while, we head back. On the road, he tells me stories of times he's been in the water and been genuinelly scared. It makes me feel a great deal better to know that he, my hero, has been shaken up by the ocean before as well. These stories are valuable to me. His patience and consideration are valuable to me. I really love this guy; he's been very kind and generous and fatherly to me. I thank him for sharing his stories and tell him how much better I feel.
We got lunch at a sushi place called "You Make Da Roll" and brought it home. My husband would really like this little sushi joint.
We collected another friend at home and then we all went down to a meeting place to join up with another friend. They went on a 5 mile run, I went on a 1.5 mile walk. I'm just not in good enough shape, and I *hurt* anyway.
I could see Hualalai, her head in the clouds, as I walked. I've really grown to like this mountain. Now here, where her toes touch the sea, is the point I need to work on. I watch as waves crash up on huge and broken lava rock and realize I just haven't treated the ocean as I should. I hadn't realized until today how strong it is, how even just a tiny little wave can toss me. Most of my experience with water in the past was in rivers and lakes. The ocean is so different. I'm beginning to learn now how very, very different it is. I hope as I gain some respect and knowledge about the sea, I'll also gain some ability to enjoy it more, and more safely.
For now, I'm spined like a pincushion, and I have more bruises than I care to count already coloring up on my flesh. One of them is the size of the palm of my hand and stands out a half an inch from my leg.
I'm supposed to go kayaking tomorrow, but I think I'll chill out for a while. I need a bit of a rest now.
Oh, we went to dinner at (yep, you guessed it) the Kona Brewing Company. Mmmmmm, heffeweissen.
Now, I'm going to bed.
Goodnight, Ocean.
So, yesterday (Makalewena) was the first time I've been in the water since the last time I was in Hawai'i. This is excluding things like pools and jacuzzis, because they don't count. Yesterday was the first REAL water I've been in since my last Hawai'i trip, in October of 2005.
Today, we went diving. I had some miserable experiences, followed by one significant triumph, and I'll give it to you (whoever "you" is) in the order I got it.
We went to a spot that was a nice haul down a pretty beat-up 4wd road (I can't wait to drive a Jeep in Hawai'i!). My buddy had cautioned me that if the swell looked rough to me, we'd just go elsewhere. He'd been to this particular site before when it was rough enough that even he decided to skip it. So I cautioned him that he knew ALL of the extent of my experience with the ocean, and that I knew VERY little of how to tell if the swell looked rough, or what. So we went off what he thought, and until we got into the water, it was "okay" to him. I even had the good sense to wear my rashguard, and even added an extra 4lbs of weights to compensate for it, just in case. If 24lbs of weights can't get me down, then I've got bigger problems than not diving.
The first problem: my damned new boots have the freakin' WORST soles for walking on freakin' ANYTHING. You know how rough a'a lava is? Yeah. The damned things slipped on freakin' a'a lava. Nearly fell repeatedly, complete with gear. So we get to the water. Swell's up just a bit. But I can't freakin' stand on DRY a'a, how the hell am I going to stand on WET, slick, slippery, SMOOTH rock? Oh crap.
So I inch my way into the water. A carefully aimed 3" wave could have knocked my feet out from under me. I get out to where I'm up to my calves, and still have 20 yards to go. That 3" wave's bigger cousin knocks me on my ass. Ow. I'm starting to get concerned.
I get out to about two feet of water. On my knees, that is. My buddy has noticed my troubles, and recommends putting my fins on and crawling out with some air in my BC. I clamber to slightly deeper water to comply. Ow. If I'd have thought about it, I'd have been VERY glad that I was wearing my rash guard. As it was, I was trying to hold onto rocks so the foot-high waves wouldn't throw me around so damn much. It *hurt*.
So I'm trying to get my fins on in between waves. I'm starting to get frustrated. Ten minutes later I've failed repeatedly to put my first fin on and met a diadema urchin a couple of times. I hate the girl at the dive shop that told me urchin spines wouldn't go through the soles of these boots. I'm getting a bit panicky. The waves have pulled me out a bit farther. Though this is the direction I want to go, I want to be going under my own power. It's scary as hell that I can't stay in one spot. It's even more disconcerting that I can't get my darn fins on. I finally think, "Okay, just get the fins on, and then you can control your direction." I let the next wave toss me while I struggle with my fin. Where did these waves come from, anyway? I swear they weren't there when we were looking at the swell. Some near and not-so-near misses with urchins later (ow), I finally have one fin on. Shit. I still need to put another one on.
I'm getting very concerned. No, I'm getting downright scared. I'm bruised, poked, and frustrated. The waves are bigger. I can't even hold onto a rock now. I try to chill a bit and do the same with my second fin. Next wave totally rolls me over. The tank on my back has my face underwater. My snorkel is a straw. I can't breathe. No worries. I have air. I jam my regulator in my mouth and slowly, deliberately right myself so the next wave can push me around a bit more.
My friend is starting to show some concern. It takes a LOT to concern him. I'm really scared at this point. Practically crying, and absolutely hyperventilating. I jam my second fin on, snap the strap shut, pull it tight and start trying to crawl the rocks at my friend's direction. I realize how badly I'm hyperventilating and switch out my reg for my snorkel. I try to chill out. I try to calm myself. All I can think is how I've never, EVER been actually shaken up in the water before.
The waves are pulling me past my friend. He tells me to kick out away from the rocks, use my air if I need. He'll be right behind me, he says. I do as he's asked, and try to calm myself a bit by looking at the varieties of life below me as the bottom opens out away from me. I remember to put more air in my BC just in case, and kick out. I'm still hyperventilating.
My friend is kicking out now, a short way south of me. I start kicking to meet him, concerned that he might not know how frightened I am now, and that he might just keep kicking toward the dive site and not let me catch up. He waits instead. I meet up with him, and he starts telling me stories of other rough dives. I'm starting to chill out. He's very, very reassuring. My breathing's calm, and he suggests that, although we're not at the site, we could just go down here and then over to the site along the bottom. I agree. He points to an area of red lava, says we'll come out there, it'll be a bit tricky, but much, much easier than what I'd just experienced. I say okay, and we start down.
But I can't get down. Twenty-four freakin' pounds of weights and I -can't- -get- -down-. I keep trying. I try to kick a bit. I'm getting frustrated. How can this be? I've *lost* weight since my last visit here. How can this possibly be? I'm really in a sorry state now, overweight, underweighted, about as graceful as a dinosaur in a tar pit - and a fat one at that. I'm hyperventilating again. I keep getting scared that I can't get a breath, even though my air's right there and flowing fine. I can't get away from the surface of the water, I'm scared that I can't breathe, and my buddy's on the bottom taking pics of kole tangs. He looks up at me. I gesture that I just can't get down. I'm crying again, in mini silent sobs. He comes to the surface, and I explain that I can't get down, and I'm freaked out again. He tells me to breathe a bit, chill out some. Asks how much more weight I need. I don't know. A lot, I think. A couple of pounds, minimum. I tell him I want to try one more time to get down, I was able to get a foot down before I freaked out, maybe if I just relax....
I can just *barely* get down. *Barely*. I have to kick to get to the bottom. It's a shallow dive, maybe 20' at this point. My buddy hands me a rock. It's perhaps less than a pound. I stick it in my pocket and try to chill out some more.
I start to remember how to breathe. I remember how to relax. I start trying to look around and stop worrying. I see a coris wrasse, neat. And those kole tangs. Oh! Four-spot butterflies! Nice! And so forth. I begin to unwind and enjoy the dive some. I follow my friend, but not too closely. The currents this shallow are erratic and throw me at him a bit, I don't want to make him miss a picture. So I stay back ten or fifteen feet and just start looking around.
I see a red spiral of nudibranch eggs! So beautiful! Nudi eggs are some of the most beautiful things in nature. I watch them flow in the current, like a red rosebud growing out of the rock. Astounding. NOW I'm feeling alright. But I could really use a few more pounds. I'll keep my eyes open for another rock.
I look at a shimmery blue-black diadema urchin. Such a captivating color. Such a mesmerisingly beautiful color. Uhh, I think I have a piece of his nephew in my foot. Oh well. We swim under a huge archway. A "puka", it's called. This was an opening of a lava tube, once upon a time. I watch the animals, even turn on my back to swim - the fish are swimming upside down along the cieling, too! I see some of the largest moorish idols I've ever, ever seen. Bigger than dinnerplates, they are.
My buddy is photographing a crown-of-thorns star. I remember to watch out for them. That'd be an awful thing to knock into. I swim into the next puka. It goes far in, is a cave or tunnel rather than an archway. I see a couple of animals, then swim back out. I go along the main puka some more, and see how beautiful the sunlight is as I pass under another arch. I like swimming upside-down like this. No wonder the fish do it.
I've let every last drop of air out of my BC, and still am just having buoyancy issues. I realize the floor beneath me is covered in large round rocks. I take one. It's maybe four pounds. I carry it with me as I go.
I peer wistfully through a tunnel that goes from our puka into the next cove. I want to go through. My friend is photographing a couple of HUGE puffers. I watch a pair of ornate butterflies on the other side of the tunnel. I want to go through. I watch a group of moorish idols on the other side. I wait for my friend. He sees me. He sees the ornate butterflies on the other side of the tunnel and he goes through. Yay! I follow.
I show him my air gauge, and feel like I've been breathing faster and harder than any five people should. We start to head towards our exit point, and finally come up to talk before attempting our exit. He suggests we just ride the waves and crawl along the flat red lava flow until we're mostly out, take off our fins, and hoof it back to the truck. It's only barely farther than our entrance point was. I agree, and we go. The waves wash us up, and I meet a bunch of new rocks. Ow. The swell picks up, again, as I go to pull off my fins. My damn fin is stuck, won't come off. I pull and wriggle. A wave picks me up and plops me higher on the lava. Now my bum hurts, too.
I get my fins off, and try to stand. Damn these boots! The first several steps, though the flow we're on is flat, have me falling. I'm screetching like a girl each time I slip. Well, I AM a girl, but I don't usually screech like one. I'm disappointed in myself. I'm also VERY depressed at this point, and wonder if my friend is fed up with me now, or angry, or if he's lost all confidance in me, or what.
I finally get off the lava and onto the gravel and sand beach. I get back to the truck with no incidents.
At the truck, I first unload my pocketed rock and then pull off my first weight pouch. I reach for the second one. It's gone. Ohhhhhhhh shiiiiiiiit. I tell my friend we may need to stop at the dive shop and show him my empty weight pocket hole. This is our other friend's BC that I've borrowed, so I have to replace the pouch.
Oh. Wait a minute - didn't I have trouble getting down? The dang weights must have pulled off at the surface, where I got tossed about! You know what this means, right? I was SERIOUSLY short on weight - AND I STILL GOT DOWN! I had EIGHT pounds less than I'd intended - and I still got to the bottom, and only had about 4-5 pounds of rock that I picked up! I'm elated at this. My friend comments that I must have a VERY low percentage of body fat, to have been able to weigh as much as I do and still get down on so little dive weights. I can't say as I agree; I have rolls I could hide small cars in. But it makes me feel a WHOLE lot better.
We go look in the shallows for the weight pouch. My buddy uses mask and snorkel and darts about. Right, there are no waves *now*. Sheesh. Even if there were, though, my friend would still be more fish than man. He comes up out of the water - with the weight pouch! I can't believe it!
We chill out for a while, I apologize tremendously for freaking out on him.... in retrospect, there was no reason at all for me to be scared; I mean, really, what's the worst that could happen? I get cut up a bit? Bruised? Land on an urchin? It's okay. Worse things can happen walking down the sidewalk. There was nothing to be scared about. All the same, my friend says he won't take folks there any more if it's not absolutely completely calm. He apologizes for not telling me clearly what the conditions were. I apologize again for getting panicky. He brushes the apology aside; tells me it's unnecessary.
After we sit and read for a while, we head back. On the road, he tells me stories of times he's been in the water and been genuinelly scared. It makes me feel a great deal better to know that he, my hero, has been shaken up by the ocean before as well. These stories are valuable to me. His patience and consideration are valuable to me. I really love this guy; he's been very kind and generous and fatherly to me. I thank him for sharing his stories and tell him how much better I feel.
We got lunch at a sushi place called "You Make Da Roll" and brought it home. My husband would really like this little sushi joint.
We collected another friend at home and then we all went down to a meeting place to join up with another friend. They went on a 5 mile run, I went on a 1.5 mile walk. I'm just not in good enough shape, and I *hurt* anyway.
I could see Hualalai, her head in the clouds, as I walked. I've really grown to like this mountain. Now here, where her toes touch the sea, is the point I need to work on. I watch as waves crash up on huge and broken lava rock and realize I just haven't treated the ocean as I should. I hadn't realized until today how strong it is, how even just a tiny little wave can toss me. Most of my experience with water in the past was in rivers and lakes. The ocean is so different. I'm beginning to learn now how very, very different it is. I hope as I gain some respect and knowledge about the sea, I'll also gain some ability to enjoy it more, and more safely.
For now, I'm spined like a pincushion, and I have more bruises than I care to count already coloring up on my flesh. One of them is the size of the palm of my hand and stands out a half an inch from my leg.
I'm supposed to go kayaking tomorrow, but I think I'll chill out for a while. I need a bit of a rest now.
Oh, we went to dinner at (yep, you guessed it) the Kona Brewing Company. Mmmmmm, heffeweissen.
Now, I'm going to bed.
Goodnight, Ocean.