“ The danger of venturing into uncharted waters is not nearly as dangerous as staying on shore, waiting for your boat to come in.” ― Charles F. Glassman
It amazes me how human beings can reduce something as mighty, powerful, awe inspiring and immense as the ocean to a cheap thrill ride filled with gluttony and dispassion. That was my impression after returning from a 5 day venture upon a Carnival cruise from South Carolina to the Bahamas. I agreed to take my good friend, Renee, on a cruise as she had never been. Her dream was to be out on the ocean with no land in sight and feel the freedom and exhilaration of being aboard a vessel at sea. With all my stories about heading out to sea, she just had to get a taste for herself. For me, being out on the ocean in any boat is heaven on earth. In the back of my mind, making a crossing on a big, safe, ship, would provide me with the opportunity to reflect on my upcoming ocean voyages.
To look through the eyes of someone who hasn’t been out on the ocean reminds me of how miraculous it really is. Renee spent hours staring over the edge of the ship, watching the water flow by, picturing the amazing creatures that must live beneath the surface. Each evening she went up on deck and stared at the stars, shining like beacons across the heavens. She was virtually alone in her bubble of happiness as the majority of our shipmates never left the buffet lines, the lounge chairs, the tiny pool packed so tightly with bodies that there wasn’t room to be in the water without touching someone. Rarely did I see anyone else leaning against the rail, staring out into the vast landscape and pondering the vastness of it all. Renee was truly enjoying herself, treasuring every moment.
For the majority, the cruise was an opportunity to fill their plates repeatedly with greasy fried foods and gorge in an uninhibited fashion. Many parents with small children used the ship as a giant playpen. They set their children free and had 5 days of ignorant bliss, letting them run wild. I had the opportunity to watch a 3 year old girl wander around the deck with no parents in sight. I saw her later on with one of her older brothers, a 6-year-old, who decided to take his little sister for a swim in the pool. I sat on the edge of the pool, dangling my feet in the one square foot of unoccupied water. I watched the little boy take his smaller sister in his arms and descend the pool ladder with her precariously in his grip. There was no lifeguard on duty. I searched the decks for parents, but no one was supervising the kids. As the boy fought to hold onto his slippery sibling, the little boy kissed his sister and told her to hold her breath. I wanted to intervene, but instead, I just watched in amazement. The girl wrinkled her little face and clung to her brother as he repeatedly let go of the ladder with one hand, switching to the other to hold her up. The pool was 5 feet deep at the ladder and I knew if the boy lost his grip, the tiny child would plummet to the bottom. Sure enough, as the little girl squirmed in his grasp, the inevitable happened. In a flash, the two forms dropped into the depths, disappearing from the surface as quickly as two sinking stones. No one glanced at the sinking pair. No one moved to retrieve them. Springing in to action, I dove from the edge. In one fell swoop, I swam to the bottom and grabbed the two tiny bodies. I burst to the surface and shoved them both toward the ladder. They coughed and rubbed their little eyes, the salty pool water surely stinging from their panicked efforts. As they climbed out and ran away from the pool, I once again searched for some sign of adult life, someone who just realized they nearly lost two precious lives. No one was there.
The desperate herd of humanity departed the ship in Nassau in a great wave of frantic souvenir collectors. My small group headed out to find a small boat to take us snorkeling. After watching the ocean from hundreds of feet above its surface, not being able to touch the water, glimpse beneath its surface, I was hungering to be in the water and interact with its creatures. One of the biggest allures of sailing around the world is being able to go diving at every possible opportunity. Our plans were to go snorkeling at Nassau with Renee and her daughter. At the next stop, Freeport, my daughter Katie and I would go on a 2 tank scuba dive. The four of us sat on the small boat guided by a wonderful Nassau native, already imparting fun facts and insights about his island. Nearby our small vessel, hundreds of bodies filed onto the glass bottom boat, ready to glance from safety at the exotic life beneath them. Others packed onto ferries to head over to Atlantis where they could visit another tourist trap and decadent setting, further distracting them from the beauty of the landscape around them. It was sad that out of thousands of people on the cruise ship, the 4 of us had to find our own boat to go snorkeling because none of our shipmates were interested in getting their feet wet.
Meanwhile, back in New Jersey, Dan was recovering from a recent polo accident. After surgically putting his arm back together with a titanium plate and 10 screws, he had some recovering to do. Our precious find of a Taswell in Mexico, on its way to Florida, had been put on the back burner. I couldn’t believe our luck. We finally found a Taswell in our price range and just as Dan was about to fly to Mexico and look at it, before it even arrived in the US, he suffered his tragic accident. He couldn’t walk, never mind fly to Mexico and put an offer in on a boat. We were both heartbroken with the timing of his accident. We were sure we would never get the opportunity to even see this boat. “LOWEST PRICED TASWELL ON THE MARKET. BLUE WATER READY!” Our dream would surely sail away before we reached it, as had the other 4 Taswells we had planned on seeing – all being sold before we reached them. Since the accident, Dan and I hadn’t even discussed the boat, as our focus had been on his healing and trying to return our lives to normalcy. However, a couple of days before I left for the cruise, I called the broker, just to see if the boat had made it to Florida and was still for sale. I was driving to Charleston for the cruise and I thought, maybe, just maybe, by some sheer twist of fate, the boat might still be available and in driving distance from South Carolina!
What were the chances? Pretty darned good, apparently. When I called our broker, Harry, he immediately informed me that the boat was not in Florida. Hmm, I thought, that’s rather interesting.
“Did it sell? Where exactly is it?” I inquired eagerly.
“No, the boat isn’t sold yet,” he explained in his soft Southern drawl. “A few people have looked at it. The owners took it up to Georgia. They have to be above 22 degrees because their insurance company won’t insure the boat if it’s below that during hurricane season.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I quickly asked what the name of the marina was, wrote it down. I told Harry I would call him back in a few minutes.
“Dan!” I screamed through the house. “Guess who is still for sale, and in GEORGIA!”
A quick search on Mapquest told me that the marina where FoxSea, the 43 foot Taswell we thought had slipped our grasp, was less than 3 hours from the Charleston Cruise Terminal. I did a search on plane tickets and figured I could fly Dan to the Charleston Airport, pick him up at 11:00 after our 8:00 arrival on Thursday, and make a 3:00 appointment to look at the boat that same day. It was an ambitious plan, but desperate times called for desperate measures. I called Harry back and asked him if he could get us an appointment to look at the boat 3:00 the following Thursday. After contacting the owners, who still live aboard the vessel, he called me back and confirmed the time was good for them. He also gave the warning that another couple was scheduled to look at the boat the following Saturday. I knew our window of opportunity had opened, and we had better take advantage of it. QUICKLY!
While the hoards of overweight oceangoing cruisers departed the ship in Freeport, Katie and I were picked up by a very kind gentleman from Ocean Odyssey Divers. We were met by 6 other divers, none of which were from our cruise ship. Once again, my suspicions were confirmed that none of the other passengers on our cruise had any desire to see the ocean they had just crossed, or any of the amazing creatures that live beneath its surface. The masses had taken busses to the interior of the island to shop. I wasn’t sure if my lack of faith in humanity made me want to vomit, or the fact I bashed my head on the ceiling getting into the van. But, I did realize what drives our fellow human beings and it made me sad. It also made me that much happier that Dan and I have made a decision to take a chance in life and fulfill our dream of sailing around the world. I said a silent prayer as we drove away from the cruise port that fate would finally be on our side. Despite the recent difficulties, everything would work out. The boat would still be waiting in Georgia when we arrived. In the meantime, Katie and I were about to embark on an underwater adventure and I didn’t care if I didn’t come home without a single purchase from the islands.
Sharks. They have always been elusive in my diving experience. I have hidden behind my buddy, my best friend, my husband, on every dive where ever I thought there might be a shark. Still, in 20 years, we have only seen one. As we jetted out toward the dive sites, our guide gave a quick overview of the sights we would be seeing. His spiel ended with, “Oh yeah, we almost always see some sharks. Mostly Blacked Tipped Reef Sharks.”
I looked at Katie, and she smiled back at me. I could see the excitement in her eyes. She was dying to see some sharks. I knew I had to be brave because Dan was not there to hide behind. I was her buddy and she mine. My daughter is the light of my life, my ray of sunshine and my best friend. I would face a swarm of hungry sharks rather than let anything happen to her, or so I thought. As it turned out…. our boat arrived and the boat we pulled up next to, with divers, just happened to be feeding sharks that morning. I agreed to see sharks, not be around hungry, erratic, food frenzied scavengers. Fortunately, our captain agreed, as there were also 2 young boys diving with our group. He saw the wisdom in not taking us in the water while the other boat was chumming for sharks. He explained that we would go to the other dive site first, and then come back to this one. I definitely breathed a sigh of relief.
Our first dive around a sunken tugboat was spectacular. The history lesson before the dive explained that the boat was filled with guns and ammo. It was on its way to take out a dictator in Haiti. It never made it. It sank off the coast of the Bahamas and the dictator lived to continue his reign of terror. We spent 52 minutes mingling with the underwater natives, their bright colors and the array of intricate landscapes a wonder to behold. Before we knew it, we were back on board and headed for the previously shark infested dive site. We needed 30 minutes to circulate in the air above water before we were allowed to make our second dive. Katie chose to jump in next to the boat and take a swim, knowing what was lurking below her, looking up at the juice dangling legs, dancing on the surface. I preferred to sit on deck and look for fins. I didn’t spot any and all too soon it was time to don our apparel and head down to the reef.
The moment we reached the reef and established neutral buoyancy, I looked over at Katie and made some quick gestures. I made the shark sign and the stay with your buddy sign, thus letting her know… there are sharks around here, DON’T LEAVE MY SIDE! Within a few minutes, the first dark shark loomed up from the depths. I had finally spotted my first real shark (the only other one we saw was swimming away from us and only spotted briefly and from afar). I grabbed our dive guide and hid behind him, peering around his tank while he swam in circles wondering why the heck I was grabbing on to him. He gently disengaged me, and gave me the, “It’s ok you idiot” sign. I stopped, stayed still as a statue, and watch the giant creature with wonder and awe. The killing machine glided smoothly through the water. He was 5 or 6 feet in length, dark grey, and had beady, piercing eyes. He was in no hurry and I could sense he was not threatened or alarmed by our presence. He made a few large circles, each one getting proceedingly closer to our group. I was enraptured and entranced by his presence and slowly started to realize he had no interest in eating me. I began to breathe more regularly, and stopped sucking my precious air supply at a frantic rate. The dive master finally moved on and I closely followed at his heels. Meanwhile, a second shark joined the first shark just as the entire group moved on. I didn’t so much as forget about my buddy, I just assumed she moved on with the rest of the group. Meanwhile, my fearless daughter, suddenly found herself alone and facing an approaching shark. The shark swam, with intent, in a straight line toward her as she hovered motionless. She glanced around finding no one else present. As it approached and was a few feet in front of her, she quickly turned her tank in its direction, breaking eye contact with the large predator. She spun back around to find he had veered off and found his friend. By the time I realized she was not beside me following the group, she appeared next to me and we continued on our journey. We stopped every few minutes and looked back over our shoulders to be sure we were not being followed, unaware. The rest of the dive was wonderful, but the highlight was definitely our encounter with our new shark friends.
The cruise ship returned on same path we took to the Bahamas. Our last day at sea we watched the final sunset and got to see a spectacular lightening display. We went to the highest point on the ship and watched and filmed the most erratic and vibrant lightning display I’ve ever seen. Lighting streaked across the sky, multiple strikes occurring simultaneously. Flashes on three sides of the ship lit up the sky and the distant thunder growled in our wake. Very light rain cooled the air and our small group watched in amazement. I looked around the deck and saw maybe a handful of others enjoying the show. The other thousands of people crowded below the decks, totally unaware of the spectacular show they were missing. The following morning, we departed the ship
and made our way to the airport to find Dan to begin our sailboat adventures. Since this post is so long already, I will have to update you with that story in the near future. I can tell you, that of all the boats we have looked at thus far in our search, we have yet to leave the dock with a dreamy look in our eyes, telling each other, “This is the one.” Never that is, until now, until we met her, Fox Sea.