Los Angeles. I visualized my wife and daughter at the end of my trip.
“ Just keep swimming!” I told myself, using my daughter’s favorite line from the movie, Finding Nemo. It was not a bad mantra.
As the sun came up behind me, I heard a familiar clang-clang-clang of a gong buoy, with its three distinct tones. With immense joy, I swam carefully toward the sound, stopping every few feet to make sure that it was louder and louder. Soon, I could see the red and white buoy. The discordant clanging was joined by the sounds of actual seals.
A couple of the friskier ones barked at me and vacated the premises. I untied the ankles of my pants and put them back on, so I wouldn’t cut the hell out of my legs on the barnacles that coated the edges of the buoy.
I needed rest. Exhausted, it took me a long time to get on the buoy, until I finally heaved my body onto piles of fresh seal shit that covered the buoy’s platform. I didn’t give a shit, literally. I rested and breathed, my arms twitching and cramping. Minutes later, I looked at my watch again and realized it had been six hours. Damn.
After I lay in the sun for a while, with shaky legs and pruney, swollen fingers, I climbed the buoy’s tower and saw land, but closer than land, the breakwater, which I knew was about two miles from Hilo Harbor. I guessed that I might still be about six miles out, all told. If I rested, I could swim those six miles.
That was the good news.
The bad news was, from my perch above the water, I had a very clear view of an entire school of scalloped hammerhead sharks.
Chapter Ten
So close and yet, so far.
My seal buddies hopped up on the buoy again but gave me little notice as they huddled together quietly, with the school of hammerhead sharks circling the buoy. I wasn’t about to chase the poor seals off to their deaths.
As I climbed down to the platform of the buoy, exhausted, I hoped they wouldn’t chase me off either.
One of them gave a little bark and I barked back in what I hoped was seal talk for “be cool.” He laid his head down and took a nap. And that was that.
I worked my way around to the other side of the buoy to rest and watched as the seals lay side by side in the sun and basked.
I knew I was still on track for Hilo, but there was no way in hell I was going to get back in the water if the seals didn’t. The sharks would circle and wait for the seals for some time.
“Please, God.” Such a simple prayer, but those two words were as sincere as any other prayer I had ever uttered. I had to get back home. I had to drink .
After only a few minutes, I did see something in the distance:
Outrigger canoes, being paddled by a handful of people.
There was no mistaking that they were real. I couldn’t dream up such imaginative patterns of Hawaiian shirts if I had years to do it.
I looked through my wallet to see if I could find something to signal with and get them to come over. They might anyway, since buoys are often used for navigation, but I wanted to make sure they came for me .
I located that shiny silver business card of Ambra’s. I used the last of my strength to again climb the buoy’s tower and this time, I used that business card to signal an SOS. Even as they got closer and closer, I kept signaling.
My lips were so dry and cracked that I couldn’t even purse them to whistle.
I couldn’t see the hammerhead school anymore and the seals plopped into the water.
The wrinkled, tanned faces of the Hilo Bay Senior Citizen Ladies Outrigger Canoe Club pulling up alongside the buoy were the most beautiful faces I had ever seen.
“ Aloha!” I managed. My voice came out like a croak. I jumped in the water next to the nearest outrigger canoe.
They pulled me on board immediately, crooning to me.
I don’t remember when I passed out, but I do remember when I came to, with bottled water being held to my lips, and the sounds of my own swallowing filling my ears. They sang in Polynesian as
“ Just keep swimming!” I told myself, using my daughter’s favorite line from the movie, Finding Nemo. It was not a bad mantra.
As the sun came up behind me, I heard a familiar clang-clang-clang of a gong buoy, with its three distinct tones. With immense joy, I swam carefully toward the sound, stopping every few feet to make sure that it was louder and louder. Soon, I could see the red and white buoy. The discordant clanging was joined by the sounds of actual seals.
A couple of the friskier ones barked at me and vacated the premises. I untied the ankles of my pants and put them back on, so I wouldn’t cut the hell out of my legs on the barnacles that coated the edges of the buoy.
I needed rest. Exhausted, it took me a long time to get on the buoy, until I finally heaved my body onto piles of fresh seal shit that covered the buoy’s platform. I didn’t give a shit, literally. I rested and breathed, my arms twitching and cramping. Minutes later, I looked at my watch again and realized it had been six hours. Damn.
After I lay in the sun for a while, with shaky legs and pruney, swollen fingers, I climbed the buoy’s tower and saw land, but closer than land, the breakwater, which I knew was about two miles from Hilo Harbor. I guessed that I might still be about six miles out, all told. If I rested, I could swim those six miles.
That was the good news.
The bad news was, from my perch above the water, I had a very clear view of an entire school of scalloped hammerhead sharks.
Chapter Ten
So close and yet, so far.
My seal buddies hopped up on the buoy again but gave me little notice as they huddled together quietly, with the school of hammerhead sharks circling the buoy. I wasn’t about to chase the poor seals off to their deaths.
As I climbed down to the platform of the buoy, exhausted, I hoped they wouldn’t chase me off either.
One of them gave a little bark and I barked back in what I hoped was seal talk for “be cool.” He laid his head down and took a nap. And that was that.
I worked my way around to the other side of the buoy to rest and watched as the seals lay side by side in the sun and basked.
I knew I was still on track for Hilo, but there was no way in hell I was going to get back in the water if the seals didn’t. The sharks would circle and wait for the seals for some time.
“Please, God.” Such a simple prayer, but those two words were as sincere as any other prayer I had ever uttered. I had to get back home. I had to drink .
After only a few minutes, I did see something in the distance:
Outrigger canoes, being paddled by a handful of people.
There was no mistaking that they were real. I couldn’t dream up such imaginative patterns of Hawaiian shirts if I had years to do it.
I looked through my wallet to see if I could find something to signal with and get them to come over. They might anyway, since buoys are often used for navigation, but I wanted to make sure they came for me .
I located that shiny silver business card of Ambra’s. I used the last of my strength to again climb the buoy’s tower and this time, I used that business card to signal an SOS. Even as they got closer and closer, I kept signaling.
My lips were so dry and cracked that I couldn’t even purse them to whistle.
I couldn’t see the hammerhead school anymore and the seals plopped into the water.
The wrinkled, tanned faces of the Hilo Bay Senior Citizen Ladies Outrigger Canoe Club pulling up alongside the buoy were the most beautiful faces I had ever seen.
“ Aloha!” I managed. My voice came out like a croak. I jumped in the water next to the nearest outrigger canoe.
They pulled me on board immediately, crooning to me.
I don’t remember when I passed out, but I do remember when I came to, with bottled water being held to my lips, and the sounds of my own swallowing filling my ears. They sang in Polynesian as
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