Back in the 1980s, I was in the US Air Force. I was lucky enough to spend nearly all of my service time at Hickam Air Force Base in Hawaii. After I left the service in 1986, I stayed there. I moved in 1991, but that's a Jocelyn-based story that we'll save for another time.
For now, we need to go back to 1983. A group of friends and I got up early one Saturday morning and drove to Hanauma Bay (pictured below) to do some early morning snorkeling. We hit the beach around 7 a.m. after stopping for a little McDonald's breakfast in Hawaii Kai and picking up some 110 film (remember that?) for our underwater cameras. We also purchased a few bags of frozen peas, Green Giant, I remember. The fish love this stuff. The day, as you shall see, is still pretty vivid for me.
Have I mentioned that at the time, I couldn't swim? I didn't? Well, even though I'm not a good swimmer now, I can at least propel myself through water. In those days, I didn't even try.
So, what was I doing going snorkeling? It's this wonderful thing called peer pressure. When you are male and young and away from parents, it is something that you give in to. And, no, I wouldn't jump off a bridge if they told me to do it. However, if we all were going to jump, well, that's different. I probably would.
As I was saying, we arrived at 7 a.m. and we had the parking lot and the beach to ourselves, for an hour or two anyway. We set up in the middle of the beach.
Masks, snorkels, flippers. Wade out into the water. Float on the belly and kick. If you go under, don't breathe through the snorkel until you rise out of the water and blow out. Remember to blow out. You're snorkel will be full of water until you do.
After fixing a minor mask leak, and accidentally forgetting the blow out rule once...only once...and letting the coughing fit, from taking seawater into my lungs, die out, I actually started having some fun. I tried to stay in water between five and six feet deep. My friends were fairly pleasant about not trying to horse around or drag me out to deeper water. The water was blue and clear. We took photos underwater. The fish were many and varied. They would nip at your shins when they saw the bag of peas.
I motored around on the top of the water, taking in the fish and plant life. I felt like one of those divers at an aquarium who get in the tanks to feed the fish or do a nature show. I even saw a turtle.
By now, others were showing up at the beach, including...girls. My confidence was high, so I figured I would show off a bit.
I kicked and traveled all around the bay, routinely checking on the location of the various females. The beach was starting to get a good sized weekend crowd. I spotted some "chicks" out near the center of the water, playing around in between the reefs. Some of my buddies were diving from the rocks on one side. Impressive, but too far from the targets. I figured, I could just kick over in their direction, strike up small talk about snorkeling and feeding the fish. Maybe get some peas and take a few pictures with them. Maybe make plans for Saturday night.
Ah, what a casanova I was then. I sighted them in, and kicked off from the reef where I was standing. The water grew cloudier as the sand was being churned by all the swimmers, so I moved outward into clearer water. When I came up, I had grossly miscalculated. I was even with the girls, but I was much farther out in the bay than they were.
Resighting, I set off again. After a few seconds, the water clouded up again, so I just kept on kicking, figuring I would stop after a count of fifteen. I felt great like I was really going an impressive speed. I had really gotten the hang of snorkeling.
Then I heard the high pitched screams. Immediately after that, my mask was ripped from my face, pulled down to nearly my neck. I breathed in a little water, and started spitting and coughing. I tried to stand, but found myself over top of a solid bed of sand and I smacked my knees into it hard. I was on all fours. I couldn't see. I stood up, mask on my chin, nose dribbling, coughing seawater, trying to keep myself from throwing up. I wiped my eyes and opened them.
I had overshot the girls by about twenty yards. I was standing practically on the beach in water less than a foot deep. The screams I heard were from terrified toddlers who had been playing at the water's edge. I scared them and splashed them with my furious kicks. Everyone in that section of the beach was watching me, including the life guard. My forehead was scraped, one knee was bleeding (and stinging from the saltwater) and I couldn't stop coughing.
I removed all my snorkeling gear and walked over to my towel. A few people were laughing, but most were staring in disbelief.
I did not look to see if the girls had noticed. I made no eye contact with anyone.
I stayed on the beach until we left.
One of my friends, who saw the incident, said that he had never seen any person actually run aground before. Friends are great when you're young. They give you an honest perspective.
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Thursday, November 8, 2007
An H-N True Story: The Snorkeling Incident
Posted by The Happy Guy at 3:27 PM
Labels: fish, frozen peas, Hanauma Bay, Hawaii, showing off, snorkeling, swimming
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2 comments:
Hanauma Bay is my favorite snorkeling place. And I think that McDonald's is still there...probably renovated but there. I have to tell you that my experience at 7 a.m. on the weekend was far more crowded than yours, and in 2004, the last time I was there, no feeding the fish at all. Nothing. Not even the food the park had provided in 2001, 1999, 1998. Times, they are a changin'... Did I mention they have a museum of sorts now with a film you must watch before you can snorkel?
It didn't show some skinny kid snorkeling in the wet sand, did it?
If I had to do all that today, I wouldn't even bother.
Back then, we could go out west past Makaha or on the north side, out past Waialua and have entire stretches of beaches to ourselves. We'd even start a fire with collected driftwood. Simpler times.
For all I know the road goes all the way around Kaena Point these days. You used to have to hike or four-wheel it. Those were some great times.
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