Swimming Again

Tomales Bay:
Off Pelican Point.

Shark Dream

A couple nights ago I had one of those dreams . . . . Keith was still alive, and we were free diving somewhere down south, for we had thin wetsuits and no hoods nor gloves. We were swimming about a quarter mile off-shore near a rocky reef that reached up to the surface in places, but not enough to count as an island. At some point, I realize a great white shark is swimming beside me, just appearing, as it were, not bent on attacking or feeding . . . yet. The shark swam beside me, or rather I swam beside the shark, kicking hard yet smoothly to maintain equal speed, not wanting to draw attention to myself by jerking or halting or anything, really. I wanted to warn Keith, to tell him to climb up onto the reef or something, to take care, but I was busy swimming and breathing, for I was using a snorkel, not a tank, and I was trying to keep my eye on the shark the whole time.

The shark leaned closer, swam closer, so I put my left hand out and touched the shark, holding it off, or attempting to, by pressing firmly and smoothly against the creature's side, though I ended up with my hand firmly against the creature's jaw just behind the teeth, the mouth. We swam like that, the shark effortlessly, me straining to maintain smoothness and speed, afraid to pull away, to make any sudden movements. This swimming, my hand against the shark, went on for what seemed like forever, but was probably only a minute or two. I wanted to warn Keith; I wanted to break away and climb up onto any protection I could; I wanted to kick and swim forever, for this shark was the most powerful creature I'd ever been so close to. Kicking and breathing, now holding my breath as the shark leaned in even further, pushing against my hand, bending my arm, and then my hand slid into the mouth of the shark, and I could feel the teeth tearing into my skin, the shark not yet even biting . . . .

And I woke up, lurching upright, dragging in that lungful of air as if I'd been holding my breath for too long, fully alert, fully freaked, happy to be alive, and unhappy in that dream-way that the long moment with that shark was over already.

A dream, as I said. Anxiety-expression? Longing? Power -- in part?

Soul / Gear

Gear:
Neoprene and rubber
In the back of the truck.

Keep On Keeping On

Good fin-workout at the pool today:

kick across, kick & stroke back;
frequent underwater laps;
pushed past that desire to stop early;
felt like myself after 45 minutes.

Getting back in shape,
getting into better shape:

that's the goal.

Heading Down

. . . where treasure may be found.

Remembering Keith: Maui 2008

Keith, morning run to the Molokini Crater, Maui.

Keith, on the left.

I think he's smiling in this one.

I had thought this pretzel-yogic move was mine, but looking more closely, that's Keith.
We were both wearing our trusty Rocket Fins, which is what threw my initial indentification.

I miss you, man.

Identity Issues

That sharp sweeping black
fin and that shiny solid black
back moving through the water:
porpoise sighting from kayak-
back a mile-and-a-half-and-change
out in Half Moon Bay.

The porpoise wasn't surging
with that sinuous
up-and-down
mojo that I'm used
to viewing -- to feeling --
so I wondered if
I'd observed a faulty
identification.

Motions and emotions,
shall we say, mixed.

I'm a diver, you know,
neoprene-blubbered,
rubber-finned and masked,
and -- yet -- I didn't bother
to dip in, didn't slip free,
but kept to the yellow
deck of my kayak,
tasking myself with ill humor.
Swimming with any marine
mammal is awfully
awesome, but a shiny
black back cutting
through the salt
could be a great
white joke.

--MD




P.S.  My kayak-partner JP reports that there'd been a caution posted for kayakers (that we missed before heading out) that a 12-foot GWS had been sighted the last few days roaming the area just off Pillar Point Harbor, so that may not have been a porpoise, actually, after all.

Stretch and Kick

Lindamar prepfest, and power to them.  Stretching is good for you.

I did my own bare minimum of stretching before I paddled out and learned my own lesson that I need to be in better shape, better paddling shape, for the next outing.  Kayak-paddling muscles aren't quite the same ones, quite apparently, as board-paddling muscles.  I paddled the (soft) board out, and I realized quickly that I lacked oomph and push.  I made my way somewhat nervously beyond the breakers, not ready for a spin and ride nor for a silly wipeout, and rested.  Hmmmm.  I'm not moving very quickly and am tiring fast.  Realizations are good.  I paddled about for the practice, the exercise,  but slowly, slowly, slowly.  I tried a couple of waves, and then returned to the beach, chastened.  But happy.  Still counts, you know.

Then, I put the 9' board back on the truck's racks, and I pulled out fins, mask, and boogie board and went back out for a while.

Sea-Level

JP in the water and adjusting gear -- with Pacific Grove in the background.

My kayak is still "anchored" to some kelp, but the kelp's holdfast isn't actually anchored to the bottom, so this shot is taken just as I am realizing that Sofia, my kayak, is drifting away with the slight breeze.  Fortunately, I was paying attention and was able to catch her before she had traveled too far away.  That could have been embarrassing.

Also, I'm thinking that the position of the line in relation to the position of the kayak should have told me immediately that something just wasn't right. When such a boat is secured, the line would be holding the bow into the wind, and the line and the boat would be aligned in one direction. Here, the boat has drifted broadside to the breeze, and it is towing the light line and loose kelp as it drifts away.

Tool Kit

Manini Beach, Big Island, Hawaii.

More Frog Than Fish, More Log Than Frog

I am just back from the pool, where I was more frog than fish, and more log than frog, I think.  Still, another start toward fitness and joy.

Salt For The Wound

Such salt solaces -- even as it burns.

(Photos from a happier day: PG / January 20, 2013.)

Reprise: Diving Like A Duck II

(I love my Rocket Fins -- and have since 1978.)

Let's Go Kayaking--and Diving!

Mendocino waters: off Van Damme State Beach, CA.  

If you look closely, you can see my clay sea-bull mask at the prow.

Last June's photo: I need an updated version, don't you think?

My Favorite Tools

Aside from all the books, of course.  And the pencils and pads.  And, the cameras.  And . . . .

Finny

I had to look three times before I realized what I was really seeing, and now I can't see that blurry bit of kelp I had thought I had seen.

Those are my rocket fins in action.

What happens when the camera accidentally goes off. I had thought I'd de-powered the device, but, no, once again I shoot my legs . . . but I like this one.

I'm swimming downward in a kelp forest out in Monterey Bay; the camera is pointed upward. Look at that green water; it was cold, but that's what wetsuits are for. (Thank you, Jack O'Neill and company.)

"Green Luck": an alternative caption.

I Must Have Been A Fish

Swam today at the pool and, as usual, wore my trusty fins. And, as usual, I just didn't want to take them off.

In some other life, I must have been a fish.

Though, having been or going to be an otter appeals too. I love how otters will just hang out in the surf zone--usually eating, of course--completely unfazed and staying in place amidst the rocky, kelpy, aquatic cauldrons without much visible effort at all.

Photo: Not a pool shot, but free diving off Cannery Row.