Into the Drink

I’m about 30,000 feet above Cuba right now.  It seems like the perfect place to puke out some prose and honor a commitment I made to those of you who read this.

I promised to post my thoughts about my run to the west coast and I thought that was going to force me to finish it and get it posted.  The problem was, every time I sat down to write about it, I couldn’t unpack it succinctly.  Or at least to a point that was suitable for the time and space appropriate in a forum like this.  The good news is that if you do actually give a shit about my more unabridged thoughts, I have a feeling – sooner rather than much later – you’ll get the chance to read them to your heart’s content.  But that’s a topic for another day.

The truth of the matter is that the time I spent in California and the subsequent run out to San Benito and Guadalupe Island impacted me so deeply that they are both still sinking in.  The lessons I learned and the experiences I was blessed with have implications that stretch way past when I left the boat.  I’m still digesting everything – even after having been home for a month and just completed another trip.

Okay – short version:

California – everyone on the crew thought it would make good TV to stick me on a boat with a bunch of spearfishermen.  As we all know, Aaron does not eat fish.  Doesn’t actually eat anything from the water.  My experience with spearfishing enthusiasts from, shall we say, other states in our great country has been less than great.  Based on how they celebrate spearing a barely-legal hogfish like they just clubbed a saber-tooth tiger at the entrance to their cave kinda leaves a dude with the impression that all they care about is killing to kill with no regard to species management.  I’d say it’s a penis-envy thing but I’ve known a few Neanderthal spearfishing idiots that were women, too.

So yeah…in an effort to do some spearfishing of their own and also watch me squirm on the high seas, we went out over the Labor Day weekend with George and the crew of the Sand Dollar in San Pedro, CA.    And again – in the spirit of brevity – here’s what I learned:

1)    George is one of the funniest dudes I’ve ever met in my life and has some of the greatest captain stories floating the high seas.  Seriously – it’s worth it to go out on a charter with him just for the laughter.
2)    Sand Dollar is a really awesome boat.  Not only because of the vessel itself (super comfy forward bunks) but also the clientele it attracts.  While we were diving Farnsworth Bank, we crossed paths with another major charter operator…from what I can gather, in California, bigger and more boats in your fleet means bigger idiots and more douchebags.  Sense of humor seems to be inversely proportional, as well.
3)    The Channel Islands – infinitely better than my memory of diving here years ago, and even then I was impressed.  It’s like nothing else – swimming through a forest.  California’s sitting on not only some of the best diving in the United States, they’re the owners of some of the most awe-inspiring underwater habitat anywhere in the world.
4)    By and large, the community of spearfishermen in the Golden State are some of the finest human beings I have ever met.  On a boat that jam-packed with testosterone, there was only one dick among them and even he was pretty tolerable.  They have a deep and burning passion for their environment, and they practice a kind of wildlife management that I think might need to become the standard for human beings around the world:  you don’t get to grill it until you kill it.  Moreover, if you do kill it, you better eat it.  And not waste a single part of the animal.  They have a finite understanding of both fish biology and a greater sense of how the entire ecosystem they hunt in functions, and it was humbling to say the least.  I learned about “release and catch,” because I watched these men let fish after fish pass by their crosshairs. Because they know the outcome is terminal for the animal, they understand acutely the consequences of pulling the trigger.  Getting to know them as people, watching their tireless work ethic and relentless patience in the water, I couldn’t help but shift my opinion of them and their sport.   The freakiest thing was that the few times we intersected amongst the kelp I never, ever got the sense that they didn’t belong there.  They seemed far more natural and part of the fabric of the reef than any scuba diver.  Even though I’ll never personally take a spear into the water, by the middle of the trip I’ll freely and proudly admit I was rooting for them.
5)    If you meet me in person at some point and you enjoy potty humor, ask me to tell you the story about how my phobia of public restrooms made the 5 days at sea and subsequent trip to Orange County really interesting.
6)    I became a wine drinker.  South Coast Winery in Temecula.  Redefining what “wine country” is in California.  I appreciate anyone who’s blazing their own trail and succeeding ecstatically, no matter what their business.  Apparently I also like a nice glass of GVR or Syrac.
7)    I did yoga.  It was incredible.

As far as Guadalupe is concerened, to be honest I’m still processing the experience.  It has continued to ring like a chord in my mind that I had never heard before and will probably never hear again.

Before we even got to Guadalupe, there was a stopoff at San Benito Island that was just as rewarding.  Swimming with fur seals that weren’t used to divers, being allowed to swim right up to them, stare into their eyes and watch as two mammals take the most primal of steps to build a bond with one another…it was so amazing.  By the time we wrapped shooting and began to snorkel back to the boat, they had obviously made the decision to allow the pups to play with us.  Under the watchful eye of a female chaperone, they danced around us like children at playground.  That I had gained the level of trust I did through the adults of the colony is one of the proudest moments of my life.  I held onto the look in their eyes.  I still do.

For the rest of my days on earth, I will never be able to fully articulate what it’s like to be inches away from a great white shark, with no steel bars between you and the animal. It is an encounter so overwhelming that you have to be there to truly understand.

What I can tell you is that it was a deeply spiritual thing. When the first shark appeared out of the gloom and into my view, I was hit with a feeling I wasn’t prepared for. But looking back, I realized I could never, ever have prepared. I had – and have – no reference point emotionally. I’ve played in bands to audiences of 30,000, I’ve witnessed the birth of my son, moments that stay with you for lifetimes afterwards but this…this touched a place I didn’t know existed.  When I got back to the boat I was literally stunned into silence; I literally could not be around other people for hours. I just sat by myself. It was a frustrated euphoria; as I looked out at the ocean, I couldn’t even think words.  I was silent mentally, emotionally, and literally.   All I could do was weep uncontrollably, and did for about 20 minutes. I’m still not quite sure why I did, but I do know that it came from a pure and wonderful place.

Based on the time spent with marine biologists who have been studying Guadalupe’s white shark population for years, the experiences of the crew of the Nautilus Explorer and what I was able to witness with my own eyes, it is clear to me that these are animals that are far more intelligent and developed than previously thought. They have a highly complex and intricate social structure that is based as much on gender as it is sheer size. It was clear that as they circled the cages endlessly that they take in everything around them, studying the bubblemakers in the water as much as we were studying them. The transmission of data was never a one-way street. Many times the line between subject and student was blurred and I felt like I was the animal in the cage, not the sharks. I was, actually.  Or at least standing on top of it.  These are sentient beings with problem-solving skills and a pecking order amongst themselves.  I felt like I had been let into a social circle, a fully-functioning city ruled by the greatest marine predator on earth.

To put it simply, the honor was mine. Not theirs.

Like any of the other expeditions we’ve gone on this year, the Guadalupe trip on the Nautilus Explorer isn’t out of anyone’s reach.  There were a pair on 8 and 11-year old brother on board with their grandmother.  It’s not unthinkable.  But I do know that even though it’s an open invitation, I stand as one of the few people on this planet that will ever see these animals – whether at San Benito or Guadalupe or otherwise – face to face, in the flesh.  I consider it a privilege beyond all measure, and it’s my pleasure to share it with you via an episode of television.

Next to the soul-shaking tent revival of September, Cayman should have been nothing more than an afterthought.  It wasn’t.  After multiple visits to the islands, Grand Cayman still had secrets and adventures I didn’t think possible.  So when I get a chance – in the next couple of days, I promise – I’ll fill you in.

I hope you are all well.  Take care of yourselves.  And take care of each other.

-A