Most people tend to fall somewhere in the continuum of two extremes: cautious on the one end or adventurous on the other. On a scale of one to ten, with one being the person whose idea of venturing out is reading the latest issue of Consumer Reports and ten being the one who is willing to crawl into a barrel and let someone push it over Niagara Falls, I’d be about a four. I’m content to sit on the front porch from time to time, watching what little traffic moves through my street, but I like to get out and about, too.
My brother-in-law, Brian, would probably be about a 7, maybe even an 8, on my cautious/adventuresome scale. I’ve noticed his penchant for excursions on the three family vacations I’ve been on with Brian. So, I wasn’t surprised when a few weeks ago, I overheard him parlaying with Lopez, the events coordinator at the resort where we were spending five days together as a family.
“I make things happen,” Lopez was telling him, and in a shake, Lopez had an excursion ready for Brian and the others, which included me. One part of me wanted to sit in the café, sipping an afternoon cup of coffee, admiring the ocean from my safe place. The other part said, “Go for the adventure.”
I went, soon finding myself in parts unknown to me.
We traipsed tiny islands, snorkeled in shallow water for seashells, and made friends with iguanas.
“This is the ideal spot for snorkeling,” Captain Craig told us as he turned off the boat’s engine.
“How deep is the water here?” I asked.
Twelve to twenty feet.
“I could drown in that,” was my immediate thought. “I’ll wear a life jacket,” I said.
“No, no, no,” Craig was animated. “It’ll ruin your snorkeling experience.”
I’m not a good swimmer, which I readily admitted to him. My momma made sure I had swimming lessons at the public pool in Altus, Oklahoma. I didn’t enjoy them, although I endured each one. Remember, I’m a “four” on the adventure scale.
“I’ll put a life ring out for you. You get nervous—you put one arm on the ring. You’ll be okay.”
He must have seen the hesitancy in my eyes, for he assured me that he was an expert swimmer, a certified lifeguard.
Equipped with my goggles, snorkeling tube, and fins, I jumped in with no life jacket.
In a matter of moments, with my face submerged in water, I was an observer to another of earth’s dimensions. The sea world was arrayed with colorful, tropical fish. A healthy-sized Grouper was taking his afternoon stroll. Dozens of fish, whose names I didn’t know, lazily swam before my eyes, aquariumlike.
Then along the sea’s floor, I observed three fish whose fins reminded me of a shark. I squinted, looked again at that signature fin that said, “Yes, you saw it right: I AM A SHARK.”
Not one, not two, but THREE of them: Gray Reef Sharks, I would later find out.
“The Grey Reef Sharks’…aggressive demeanor enables it to dominate many other shark species on the reef, despite its moderate size…This species has been responsible for a number of attacks on humans, and should be treated with caution…” according to Wikipedia.
I later wondered if that’s why our guides seem to hurry us out of the water.
Gazing at those sharks, I felt strangely calm, even serene. Watching them move, I asked myself why I wasn’t afraid. I was hopelessly transfixed: the sharks’ sleek bodies moved in serpentine fashion, entertaining me with an underwater ballet. I echoed the Psalmist: “Let the sea resound, and all that is in it.” (Psalm 96:11)
Suddenly I felt Pablo, Captain Craig’s assistant, tapping me on the shoulder, “C’mon, David, you’re drifting too far from the boat.”
So mesmerized was I that I didn’t realize where I was in relation to the others.
Paulo Coelho, the Brazilian writer, said, “The danger of adventure is worth a thousand days of ease and comfort.”
Sitting back, watching the shore get larger as we motorized closer and closer to it, I knew the danger of the adventure was worth the entire week of comfort.
And perhaps, I thought, I had moved the needle from a four to a five, maybe even a six, on my adventure scale.