Hindsight gifts you with perspective. My vantage point here, from the couch, with my right foot post-surgically elevated, is that it all had to happen if I was going to choose myself in this life. If you know me, then you know that I am a giving, nurturing soul. I don't rely much on other people, in fact, I rely on a very few people. I am not needy or demanding. I give more than I take. I like being alone. Seeing others happy makes me happy. I love deeply and a few years ago, I realized that I want love. I wanted a deep connection with my partner. I wanted emotional intimacy, honesty and a mutual love. I hoped I could have that with my husband of over a dozen years. I honestly thought we could fall in love with each other some day, maybe when all the chickies flew the nest. But it wasn't looking good. We were drifting farther apart as the years passed. He stopped initiating sex, then I stopped too. He told me I was unattractive to him, because I had gained weight (not even as much as I weigh now though). He confessed to a minor marital indiscretion, but that brought us closer, because it was a truth, but only for what seemed like a minute. We got to the point where I felt no love from him at all, and more disdain when I walked through the room than anything. I actually felt him hating me. He will deny all of this. That's the problem. I don't think he even knew what he was feeling.
I would have stayed in the marriage. It was tolerable, I loved the family life, Tom and I traveled well together and generally got along. We had no passion but that also meant that we rarely fought. It was fine. My life was fine. But, in November, 2015, I decided to go on a cage diving expedition to Guadalupe Island to get in the water with Great White Sharks. I had been connected to them since age 9, when I saw Jaws, and I was terrified into fascination and eventual love. The expedition was with Ralph Collier, someone I respected and trusted. I had to go. That trip would change the course of my life.
The Guadalupe trip was a trip of courage for me. I boarded the train to San Diego and in Oxnard, our train struck a car on the tracks. The journey was halted while they cleared the wreckage, I still don't know if the driver was killed, and our train made its way slowly to a stop where we could disembark and await another train. At no time during any of this did I think of turning back for home. I had given myself five hours of cushion to arrive on time at the dock where we would meet before our late night departure. I arrived at our designated meeting spot, a restaurant called Pizza Nova, with an hour to spare.
When I walked in with my bag, I didn't notice the group of freaks and geeks in the corner exchanging shark stories. I just sat down at the bar, ordered a glass of wine and a bowl of minestrone. When I was just about done, I noticed Ralph sitting in the corner behind me and I went over to say hi. He had been worried about me, but I was there now and ready to meet everyone. I mentally tallied the ratio of women to men. There were four women, including myself, and about 12 men. Nobody stood out to me. One guy was from Spain and barely spoke English. One guy was from England, one guy was a raptor researcher at the San Diego Zoo, one guy was Canadian, There were a couple guys from Hollywood who worked in the film industry, a middle school science teacher, a realtor, a woman who worked for Clarins or Chanel or some cosmetics line, who became my roommate. Ralph's son, Rocky and his friend Blaine were there. Anyone else didn't make enough of an impression on me to remember them.
We boarded the Islander and all sat down in the dining booths to meet the crew. I struck up a casual conversation with the English guy. I didn't remember his name, I'm terrible with names, it was Alan or Andy or Ethan or something. He seemed chipper enough, making jokes right away, which is my language. I do remember his face though, after the Dive Master, Jimi, said that there was a storm coming and that we could get to Guadalupe and back but would have to cut our diving days from two and a half full days to one full day. The cut back was potentially 18 hours in the cage for each person to six. Andy's face fell. I can still see it in my mind.
Cutting the trip short was fine with me. I was in Go With The Flow mode. No fighting the WHAT IS.
I made my way to the stairs that led to bunks and asked Alexa, one of the less chatty women, if she would room with me. As soon as we were given the green light, I made my way to the first cabin I saw that had two instead of three bunks. The bunks were shorter but wider and there was a tiny sink in the corner with a mirror. I offered Alexa her choice of bunks and she chose the bottom.
After unpacking my bag into the drawers in the wall, I hurled myself up into my bunk. There was no ladder. You had to high hurdle it. I went straight to sleep. The next morning we woke up just outside of Ensenada, with a giant Mexican flag waving up on the hill. The Mexican customs agents boarded the boat, looked through all of our passports and then we were permitted to motor off into Mexican waters on our way to Guadalupe Island, the famed sea mount where Great White Sharks predictably congregate every fall.
We motored for 20 hours.
I get sea sick. At first I was fine.... Just ate like everyone else, tried having a beer, sat at the back of the boat..., made conversation with the guys,....watched the horizon from the front of the boat.... no luck. I chose to barf in the bathroom, away from the shame that comes from being seen. Luckily, if I am in my bunk, I am fine. Sleep always saves me. When I woke up the next morning, the boat was slowly approaching the island and I was able to see the dawn and sunrise at Guadalupe Island, home of the Great White Shark!!!
I was so excited at that point. The crew immediately started fishing for tuna and used the on board crane to put two cages into the water. They had a trash can of frozen tuna pieces, but said the sharks prefer fresh. The first shark was drawn with a frozen tuna head. I remember squealing at my first GWS sighting!!!!
The first group of eight got suited up to get into the cages. Each cage had four hookah-style regulators set up to pump unlimited air in as needed. It was easy. You just suck in the air you need and push it out through the regulator. I was SCUBA certified so I knew what to expect. Fifteen minutes before my cage rotation I shimmied into my wetsuit, a 3/2 mm that Tom had bought for me two Christmases before. I did not put on booties or the hood. It was Mexico! How cold could the water be!
Within minutes, I was gifted with my first up-close White Shark encounter. She just swam casually by, hanging out in the distance, swimming below the cages, and then she was gone and I was left staring into the clear blue water at tiny jellyfish.
I was shivering wildly by the time that first hour was up. I happily crawled out of the cage and ate a full breakfast. I was on deck to witness one of my favorite moments of that trip, when one of the deck hands reeled in a large yellow fin tuna only to have a shark take the opportunity to get a taste of it first.
For my second rotation, I decided to add the hood and booties. There was very little non-shark time. In total, we had twelve sharks visit in twelve hours. We had males and females and all were large. We had a few instances with multiple sharks. We had topside action with sharks coming up for bait and showing their dorsal and caudal fins, we had deep water swimmers who were merely silhouettes under the cages. We had it all.
At the end of the day, we were all happy and began the journey back to Ensenada. We were treated to pods of dolphins and a mother and baby Humpback whale show that included tail slapping by the baby. In all that I experienced, the scariest thing I saw was a jellyfish that floated into the cage I was in that resembled a plastic bag.
At the end of our journey, some of us exchanged contact information, some of us became Facebook friends. Andy Currie, the English guy, and I became friends. I had called him Alan by then so his first FB post to me was addressed, "Sheila", and thus began something special. We became Alan and Sheila.
Alan was headed to Patagonia in late March to celebrate his 50th birthday and photograph the Orcas who had learned how to partially beach themselves in the hunt for young fur seals. As the months passed, Alan and I became friends. I asked more questions and he shared more with me. We used FB messenger a bit. He shared shark information for me to use in my classes as a science teacher to elementary aged kids. I got a better idea of who he was.
Sometime in mid spring, Ralph Collier announced that he would be doing another trip the following November. I really didn't feel the pull. I had seen what I came to see. Alan said he wanted me to go. By the time I expressed a desire to join the expedition, it was sold out. There were, however two spots available that were being raffled off at the price of $100 a ticket. I bought one. I later bought a second. On the night of the drawing, I purchased a third ticket. I figured that if I was meant to go, I would win. I would take Kieran, my daughter. She was excited at the prospect.
The night came. We attended the lecture. It was a Shark-week regular talking about capturing the epic shot of a White Shark breaching with a seal decoy in its mouth. He talked about the insanity of Shark Week and how each year they have to somehow top what they have produced in the past. The drawing came and..... I wasn't chosen. I sent Alan a message. He seemed sad. I decided to tell Ralph that if a spot opened up, I would take it. Guess what. A spot opened up.
To be continued.....
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