Shark Dream

Early this morning, I had my very first shark attack dream.  I've been diving since 1978, and I've had plenty of shark dreams, dreams in which I watch sharks swim from shore, dreams in which I seem to swim with sharks deep underwater, dreams menacing and dreams awe-inspiring, but dreams getting attacked . . . first time.  In the dream, I was out on a kayak with a friend, and we were going to free dive.  Somewhere up north--Sonoma or Mendocino coast.  We anchored our boats to kelp, and we got ready to enter the water, planning to drop down into the kelp forest.  For some reason in the dream--for I would never dive in this manner--I dropped my fins and mask & snorkel overboard, and then I swam down to the equipment in the dreamily-overly-clear water.  As I swam down, I could see some sort of body mass and some sort of movement in the near distance, but without my mask, I could not see clearly enough to make out details.  I certainly felt nervous.  At the bottom, I donned my mask and cleared it a bit, using only a little of the air in my lungs, and pulled on both fins as I looked about, spinning slowly to cover the 360 degrees.  There, swimming away, was a large shark.  As I slowly moved upward, trying to kick slowly, easily, calmly, sending out the vibes of functional-fish, not of awkward-fearful-prey, I could see the shark turn and circle and then rush for me.  Of course, I woke just before that open mouth closed on my body . . . .

And, of course, I had to get up, walk around, and drink some water before I could shake loose of that final moment.

To Em--: Shark-Dream (& Of Fear)

I
Em--
I'll do a quick description of this latest shark dream/nightmare:

I was free diving up and down in the ocean, but the visibility was great and there were all sorts of people diving with tanks and doing stuff, odd stuff, like grilling fish underwater with cars anchored in the water, parked, floating, and such.

In the dream, I swam all the way down to the bottom here, and people were impressed and I was happy with that, but I really needed to head up, and I paused to accept a bit of underwater-grilled salmon from one of my students this term, an older fellow who was the nicest guy AND had faced great adversities, and I swam up and pulled myself onto the roof of this floating car, anchored with a giant chain to the bottom, but floating, sort of, with the car top at the surface.

I pull myself out and sprawl across the top of the car, enjoying my grilled salmon. (Underwater grilling?) Then, the shadow of a large shark--tiger shark, I think, but definitely not a great white shark, but big and aggressive and commanding--swims below. I can't really see very well from the car top, and I'm lying down and putting my face in the water trying to see the shark, worrying about all those tank divers and my student, etc, but the car keeps tipping and I'm worried it's going to lose whatever air is holding it up in place and that it will sink, and the shark is circling around and around.

I keep having to shift position, and I can't keep the shark in sight, and I am wondering if I should swim to somewhere else, but I'm the only free diver and I'll be silhouetted, and ... and ... and... I'm pretty worried, but I'm worried about everyone else a bit more than myself (which is a good feeling) and then

the shark is pushing against the leg I've got hanging off the side of the floating car, pushing against me, not biting, but maybe he's grabbing at someone below, so I'm beating the shark's body where I can reach it, beating and beating with my clenched fist, and I reach for my small dive knife, and

I wake up gasping.

A fairly usual night of dreaming for me.

II
Oh Em--,
I'm not that cool, though I aspire to be. I'm a bit afraid of being afraid. And, so far in life, I hope that I've stepped up as needed, not let fear get in the way.  (Maybe I'm not remembering the failures right now, but still hoping to not let fear take over in the future.)

I know that my imagination can be so strong that I have to ignore it or overpower it sometimes, and yet I also try to stay true to my intuition. Case: if it's feeling sharky out there, what do I do? Resist the over-imagination or respect the intuition? Can I tell which is which?

If I've been relaxed up until the sharky thoughts start coming in, I tend to respect the anxiety. I'll keep diving or paddling and keep checking the vibe. Finally, if I can be a little relaxed and yet still feel the sharkiness coming, I'll go in to shore or I'll not dive over the side. That's been an issue two or three times, and once I was solo in a very remote place, so it seemed wise to respect the feeling.

If I am imagining too much on the drive to the site, or I've been watching Jaws or something, I'll work harder to resist the fear. I'll push further just to test myself. Unless I've psyched myself out completely. Then, I'll do 20 or 30 minutes and head in. Only happened twice so far, ever.

Most of the time, I have no thoughts or just one or two thoughts of sharks, I knock wood on my head, and I keep diving or paddling.
--MD

Non-fiction: two passages from the correspondence I've had with a friend, lightly edited.  Gist--or roughish notes, in both cases.  I'm posting now not to lose the material, essentially, for I know I'll come back here and want to edit and revise for more accurate vision, more attentive assessments.  

Paddle Practice and Sharky Vibes

I'm not a particularly brave-hearted soul, and I was reminded of that this past Sunday when I took a very conservative approach to my solo paddle-out from Blind Beach on the Sonoma Coast.  (And free diving or kayaking or surfing alone doesn't prove anyone brave or foolish, as any waterperson--especially, any surfer--will tell you.  That's just the routine.  If you always wait for a buddy, you'll deprive yourself of water-time.)

On Sunday, the two surfers who'd been the only ones out in the water came in as I was unloading my gear, and no one else came out to surf or kayak or dive for the next three hours.  Who can blame them, really?  The surf wasn't delivering here, unlike choicer spots down the coast, and the spot's firmly between the seal-pupping grounds of Point Reyes/Bodega Bay and the Russian River sandbar.  All the guides and guidebooks say to watch for sleeper waves, rip currents, and sharks.  Now, sleeper waves, I can watch for and live with; rip currents I can use and avoid; but those sharks?  I'd rather not have to consider the Landlord at all.

The day felt sharky.  I don't think it would have felt quite so sharky if I'd had a dive partner like my pal Keith or Gerald or David from Connecticut, whom I've never dived with, but who would be good anyway.  Or maybe this day still would have.  Sometimes having a buddy in the mix just solidifies the illusion of innocuousness.   I have kayaked the Marin coastline, setting forth from Rodeo Beach, Drake's Bay, and Tomales Bay without feeling so much of my skin crawling.  Same with the waters off Monterey, Carmel, Santa Cruz, Mendocino, and beyond.  I've been diving the Sonoma Coast for abalone off and on since 1978 with not a single shark sighting and not a single curtailed dive because of sharky feelings, so I'm not one to over-react . . . . I think.

(Note: In the photo above, you can see my rocket fins, the best choice--I say--for the kelpy, rocky-shore waters of Northern California: stiff, medium-length, properly heavy for ease of surface diving.  Also, I caught the lift of the wave here; that's why you can't see much in front of the kayak.)

Now, I paddled conservatively, as I've said.  What does that mean?  On the one hand, there's how and where, and on the other hand, there's the question of equipment.  Let me take this latter point first.

When I paddle solo--which I often do--and conditions aren't just flat, I prepare to be tossed or knocked from my kayak at some point, and I assume I'll get overturned due to waves or backwash or something.  (Really, I don't usually consider sharks, and the dive knife on my inner left calf is to comfort my fear of fishing line, not my fear of toothy carnivores, though I've taken my share of ribbing for carrying a knife whenever I dive, California or Hawaii.  I figure if I'm going under, I want the tools to make sure I'm coming up.)  So how do I ready myself for getting knocked out of the kayak and getting back onto it?

I wear my fins, my Rocket fins, once I'm away from the beach.  With my fins, I can catch up to my kayak, and I can vault back onto her (Sofia).  So, fins on my feet.  Also, this go-out, I had my mask-and-snorkel around my neck, ready to be pulled into place if I had to do any serious swimming after the kayak or into shore.  I had a squid lid also, pushed back around my neck, just in case I wanted to do some free diving or if I were separated from my kayak and needed to make a long swim.  (I also figure the squid lid pushed back on my neck helps to shield my skin there from the sun; as someone the dermatologist has a few choice words for and that nitrogen-burning tool every year, I am trying to keep the sun damage to a minimum while still kayaking and diving and all that.)  Also, my various gear bags with water, sunscreen, neoprene gloves, dry/cold gear, and so forth is all secured to stay on the kayak and not entangle me in case of an upset.  Likewise with the kelp anchor/towline.  Sometimes other kayakers look at me funny for wearing the fins, but I'd rather be ready than cool, frankly.

Now, how I paddled was also conservative.  I kept doing laps back and forth between my launch spot (which would ideally also be my exit) and the various rocks/pinnacles to the southwest.  I checked the landing scenarios for various places along the beach there and the probable ways I'd need to handle such beach landings.  Boring considerations for most folks, but I actually like the practice and feel much better after doing such work.  I practiced surf landings, particularly staying on the back--not in front of--the waves.  Again--as I mentioned in one of yesterday's postings, such practice is usually better in a solo go-out.  Partners often get bored with what can feel like routine or simplistic maneuvers.

I was also conservative in not going very far out and in limiting myself to moving between rocky points against the swell.  I have more control going against the swell, pushing against the prevailing energy, exactly the way a hiker or climber has more control going up against the pull/push of gravity than going down with gravity.  When I'm headed down swell or down current, essentially at some point I'm surfing or floating/flying at the mercy of the surging waters.  Against the current, I have some little control and the illusion of even more, both of which I find comforting and helpful.  Another time, I'll head beachwise with the push of the waves, for I need to practice those motions too, riding or self-arresting as needed.  I should also find my helmet, if I'm going to be as careful as this posting claims.

Finally, I paddled conservatively because I held off on paddling out to Arch Rock, which you can see here in the distance or in earlier postings in greater detail.  According to the satellite maps, there's a deep drop-off just on the other side of that arch, and if the great whites aren't cruising between the dry sand and the arch, they are probably cruising just there.  Classic stalking topography.  Also, frankly, I've taught Susan Casey's The Devil's Teeth about the Farallon Islands and great white sharks the last few semesters and all these rocks poking toothily up from the waters reminded me just a little too much of the topography featured in her book (which I discuss here) and in the various YouTube videos I'd screened as research for teaching the book.  The day felt sharky, I was alone out there, and too many certain images flashed through my wonderfully/horribly imaginative mind while paddling.

Another way I paddled conservatively--or another way you can see the anxiety--was that I was loathe to put my feet and hands into the water.  Now, I was wearing a surfing wetsuit (5/4), useful for getting tipped into the water or for free diving, but I was getting awfully heated on this glaring, overcast day.  Usually, I just put my feet over the sides to cool down, often when I want to take some photos and can appreciate a bit more stability.  However, with my fins on those feet, I felt it would be unwise to heighten the similarity to the favorite prey item in the silhouette I was offering to any lurkers below.  And if you find that sentence convoluted, you can gauge my superstitiousness accordingly.

I'm not a particularly brave soul, and my often free diving solo for the last twenty-plus years doesn't alter the fact that I don't go looking for trouble.  And so I'm saving the paddle-out to Arch Rock for a team effort.  Or, if Gerald isn't available, I just may work up the nerve through gearing-up, practice, and a less vibey day to paddle out solo anyway.  I really want to check out that arch close up.  I don't think I'll be free diving down to take snapshots of the urchins and abalone, however.  Free diving there would seem to be pushing it, don't you think?

Booklist: English 1A Fall 2011

Susan Casey's The Devil's Teeth: A True Story of Obsession and Survival Among America's Great White Sharks;

Matthew B. Crawford's Shop Class as Soulcraft: An Inquiry into the Value of Work;

Laurence Gonzales' Deep Survival: Who Lives, Who Dies, and Why;

Tom Kendrick's Bluewater Gold Rush: The Odyssey of a California Sea Urchin Diver;

William Langewiesche's The Outlaw Sea: A World of Freedom, Chaos, and Crime;

and

Philbrook's In the Heart of the Sea: The Tragedy of the Whaleship Essex.

Also, a good college-level dictionary.

Plus selected essays and chapters from Ebbesmeyer & Scigliano, Whitty, Wells, Steinbeck, and others as well as selected videos on sharks, marine mammals, abalone and urchin diving, and related local material. (Perhaps Steinbeck and Hemingway on writing too.)

Summer planning will be fun.

P.S. All those subtitles look a bit daunting, don't they? Or, those subtitles combine with the titles to draw you in, draw you closer!

Here's the list again, but just with the basic titles:

The Devil's Teeth

Shop Class as Soulcraft

Deep Survival

Bluewater Gold Rush

The Outlaw Sea

In the Heart of the Sea

Annotations: Delgado, Doubilet, and Drumm

As part of Fall 2008's research project, I have produced an annotated bibliography of 129 nonfiction texts, all associated with aquatic subjects. I read far further in water-related fiction and nonfiction in the last eight months, but I decided on the specific bibliography in relation to teaching my courses, English 1A, English 93, and the prospective elective "Literature and the (Aquatic) Environment." Of course, not all 129 books on my list would suit our courses, but I had to read (or reread) to discover such fitness or lack of fitness. I share my findings for each one itself and for the critical model at work.

Here are the next three books in the bibliography:

Delgado, James P. Adventures of a Sea Hunter: In Search of Famous Shipwrecks. Vancouver: Douglass & McIntyre, 2004.

This book is solid and informative, but finding shipwrecks just seems too technical and less fun than in the days of Mel Fisher. (Reminder: see Daley's Treasure.) I need to reread this book; maybe it's more fun than I recall (since I read it on an airplane to Hawaii, restless with anticipation of the diving ahead).

Doubilet, David. Water Light Time. New York: Phaidon, 2006.

Excellent book of photographs, particularly underwater photographs and just-at-the-surface photographs, much less common (and much less sought after, I guess). I put this book next to the 3-D photos when I want to give someone the best sense of being in the water without spraying them with a hose or tossing them off a dock. In other words, visually effective and engaging.

Drumm, Russell. In the Slick of the Cricket: A Shark Odyssey. New York: Penguin, 1997.

If you have ever seen Jaws, well, you've met the main figure of this book through the crusty, obsessive shark-killing character played by Robert Shaw, though the Frank Mundus of Drumm's book is a bit smoother than the film's Quint. Mundus is the star of the show, though Drumm's descriptions are the key to the book's effectiveness. I have been tempted to use this book in English 93 or 96, both for the obvious attraction of any shark-story and for the portrayal of psychology in action. I felt salty after reading this book, though also a bit depressed. In this world, there are too many shark-killers and too many dead sharks, but that's the subject of a different book.

Annotations: Ahrens, Ambrose, Bartholomew

As part of a research project, I have produced an annotated bibliography of 129 nonfiction texts, all associated with aquatic subjects. I read far further in water-related fiction and nonfiction in the last eight months, but I decided on the specific bibliography in relation to teaching my courses, English 1A, English 93, and the prospective elective "Literature and the (Aquatic) Environment." Of course, not all 129 books on my list would suit our courses, but I had to read (or reread) to discover such fitness or lack of fitness. I share my findings for each one itself and for the critical model at work.

Here are the first three books in the bibliography:

Ahrens, Chris. Good Things Love Water: A Collection of Surf Stories. Cardiff, CA: Chubasco, 1994

This is a playful collection, good on details and in touch with the early days of the Southern California and Hawaiian surf-scenes. Mostly, Ahrens shares stories from the 1960s, 70s, and 80s. He sets up each story, and then lets the narrative unfold. Ahrens has a bit of a chip on his shoulder--past teachers had told him he'd never be a writer--but that just adds energy to the delivery.


Ambrose, Greg. Shark Bites: True Tales of Survival. Honolulu, HI: Bess Press, 1996.

The perfect beach read, in its way, with these stories of shark attacks in an accessible, brief form: "bites." Not much in the way of science, but the emphasis on the human element makes this volume good for borrowing to use with students.


Bartholomew, Wayne "Rabbit," and Tim Baker. Bustin' Down the Door. New York: Harper Collins, 2002.

Set mostly in the mid-1970s, Bustin' Down the Door is a useful history through the eyes of a key participant in the short board revolution and in the Hawaiian/Australian explosion when the trash-talking sports from Down Under discover that the native Hawaiians, frustrated by the history and legacy of oppression by outsiders, consider such trash-talking to be disrespectful to a potentially fatal degree. The book documents both Rabbit's career and the development of professional surfing.

The DVD of the same name would be a wonderful companion; the DVD is better at focusing on the developing dream of professional surfing, as surfing as an actual sport in popular culture, than the book. The DVD would be the better choice when teamed with Coleman's Eddie Would Go.


Postscript: Good sports writing and popular science writing can be golden for our students. Real-world-based prose (if that phrase works for you); usually accessible to the common reader, though usually demanding as well; often quite dramatic in nature; replete with information, imagery, and action.