Daring to Snorkel

Posted by Mary Clare Lockman in HandPrints Stories & Videos | 1 comment

© Mary Clare Lockman

On vacation, I like to pretend I’m a different person. A person who loves adventure, who tries new things, who revels in challenges. A person who thinks there’s nothing more wonderful than tossing aside everyday routines. A person who’s ready for anything that comes my way. A real trooper.

Our first day on the island of Maui I had a genuine dilemma. My entire family wanted to go snorkeling. It would the first time for all of us but while my husband, Paul, and our three girls were accomplished swimmers, I had only passed beginner’s. I couldn’t even tread water. And I hated getting my face wet.

Paul told me that if I went snorkeling he would be right next to me at all times. He said he wouldn’t leave me alone for a second. He reminded me that he was a swim instructor and lifeguard. I knew I should feel safe with my very own guide and teacher. I didn’t want to disappoint my family by being a wimp so I agreed.

We boarded a catamaran for whale watching and snorkeling at Molokini Island. Fifteen year old Clare, fourteen year old Erin, and ten year old Colleen stood by the railing, searching for humpback whales. I stationed myself next to them, looking out at the sky and the bay. The sky was beautiful in its unclouded blueness and the water was never ending. That was the problem. Water was everywhere.

I once read that a person could drown in a tablespoon of water. As I clutched the rail of the catamaran, I took that into my palpitating heart and believed it hook, line, and sinker.

It was hard to get excited about the whale’s tails slicing through the water after the captain announced that we were approaching Molokini Island. My family had gone to get our snorkeling gear. I knew it was my only chance to find out some information.

“Sir, can I ask you something?” I asked the first crew member I could corner.

“Of course,” the crew member replied.

“How deep is the water at Molokini Island?” I looked around and, thankfully, none of my family was nearby.

“About 60 feet,” he said casually.

I reclutched the railing as panic filled my chest. “Thank you,” I squeaked.

“We are now approaching Molokini Island,” the intercom intoned. “The rim that you see is the edge of a submerged volcano. When you get into the water do not touch or step on the coral. The reef is a protected area.”

A different crew member came close enough for me to question him.

“Do you provide life jackets?” I asked.

“Most people don’t use them,” he said, “but we do have them.”

“Good.” My relief was pitiful.

The man peered at me closer and said, “You won’t need it, the salt holds you up.”

“I’ll need it. I sink like a rock.” I laughed one short, lonely snort.

“I’ll see what I can do, Ma’am.”

“Thank you.”

I stand on the platform of the catamaran as I imagine jumping into the 60 feet of water. My knees rasp together as they shake side to side, but I try not to look at them. It’s too embarrassing. Our three girls are already paddling around with their eyes riveted below the surface. My eyes are riveted on the 60 feet of
water depth before me.

Paul has his hand outstretched and he says, “Come on, it’s fun.”

My mask, mouthpiece, and fins are all on. I have been standing on the ledge so long that my mask is clouding up. I don’t worry about people waiting behind me because I’m the last one. I feel my life jacket around my waist for snugness and watch ten year old Colleen for a couple of seconds. I want to see if her life jacket is holding her up. It is.

“Come on,” Paul says.

There doesn’t seem to be any way to ease myself into the water. As I step forward my fins snag on the ladder. My belly plunges into the water with a resounding splash. The fins release from the step with a jerk. My mask fills with the salty water as my face goes under. My entire body is immersed. I almost howl because the water is so cold but I’m terrified of swallowing water. I bob quickly to the surface. I blink several times to get the burning salt out of my eyes.

Paul clears my mask, helps me make a tight seal on my face, fixes my mouthpiece, and takes my hand. He shows me how to move my flippers up and down. I start paddling while breathing out of the mouthpiece. I can’t believe it but I’m actually treading water! The life jacket keeps me at the surface with my face out of the water.

“You have to trust that the life jacket will hold you up,” Paul says.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure. Relax. Take my arm. I told you I’d be right next to you.”

I guess it’s nice to have a personal guide and mentor. I take in a deep breath.

“Put your face in the water and look,” Paul says. “Remember, you don’t need to breathe fast. Slow and steady.”

“Okay.” I stretch out my arms and legs and move my flippers up and down.

“Not like a bicycle,” Paul says. “Point your toes, bend your knees a little, and kick from the hip.”

“Okay. I’m trying.” There was so much to remember.

“Now, put your face in.”

My face submerges under the surface and I open my eyes to stare. It is incredible!

I open my mouth to exclaim in wonder but then I remember about the tablespoon of water. I snap my lips shut. With lips pursed, I gawk at the beauty of the reef. I can’t take my eyes off the purples, yellows, oranges, reds, and blues of the exquisite fish darting throughout the water. This is true creation.

My splashy entrance lures the three girls over to watch me. Soon we’re swimming together as we point below the surface. There’s so much to see. Erin points out a long, skinny eel whose nose is sticking out of his hiding place in the coral. It disappears in an instant. I don’t want to miss anything so I keep my face in the water. Paul and Clare dive down pointing at anemones and coral formations.

After what seems to be a few minutes but is actually almost an hour, the crew motions for people to come back. I paddle around for one last look.

I’m the last person to get back on the catamaran.

Photo Group Snorkeling by Mike Rodriquez
Photo Coral Reef