King Tide

My sister Katie had a prophetic dream on her birthday. She woke up that morning and told me that she knew that she needed to conquer her fear on land, in air, and at sea. Katie wanted to go skydiving. I suggested that we start with the sea. 

Before we went shark diving I thought that fear was a feeling that would move through me entangled in a web of other emotions. I know now that fear is a lonely vacuum, and other emotions disappear into its void.

The tiny dive boat bounced for three miles across the choppy waters of the turbulent king tide. I fixed my eyes on the horizon and stretched a rubber fin onto my foot. I pressed my toes against the slick surface of the boat deck and felt my heel popping in and out of the little rubber fin. The fins were too large for me but they were the smallest size on board. The tiny dive boat roared closer to the dive site, a buoyed mooring in the deepest part of the sea that I have ever dared to swim.

The two Marines were first in the water. They had awful tattoos but they were confident swimmers. They were certain that they wouldn’t need the aid of the bright yellow rope trailing the boat to mark the current. Katie was next. 

I moved barefoot across the deck toward my moment of fear. I went rocking and reaching my way to the stern, gripping the blue-and-yellow fins in one hand and the black dive mask in the other.

On the small white ledge next to the boat’s quieted engine, I stretched my mask over my eyes and nose. I slipped on my first fin and stared into the deep dark water beneath me. The boat was rocking. The fins were too big. My hands were shaking. I dropped the second blue-and-yellow fin into the ocean and watched it drift away from me. Farther. Faster. 

I had imagined that my moment of fear would be different. I had imagined that I would dive bravely and boldly into the invisible expanse of the sea. Instead I sat unsure and unprepared, pressured to dive in before I had summoned my courage. Out at the end of the bright yellow rope, the dive guide saw my hesitation turn to self-doubt and swam my renegade fin back to my outstretched hand.

I measured my breathing. I used both hands to pull on my second fin. Seated on the edge of the boat I dangled my rubber-finned feet just below the surface of the sea. The clear water glided over the topside of my fin. Beneath my fin the water opened into a deepness that I had considered but never imagined. 

Concentrating on an effort not to splash, I inched off the back of the boat and plunged into the water. The deep ocean surrounded me with a deafening silence. I kicked to propel myself back to the surface through my entry bubbles and gasped for air as I plugged my fear with my snorkel. I searched the darkness for a shadow, the gray silhouette of a body gliding through the deep. I met Katie at the bright yellow rope. She was holding on with both hands. We spoke through our masks with our fixed eyes while the current kneaded our bodies across the surface of the sea.

Our dive guide signaled “one” and pointed through the water towards Ka’ena Point. The vastness of the ocean was disorienting. My gaze followed his finger. I reached along the rope for Katie’s hand and squeezed her. Together we stared into our fear as it circled around us.
 

Click here to learn about the king tide from Honolulu Magazine.
Click here to learn about the king tide from Hawaii News Now.

Click here to learn more about Hawaii Adventure Diving