Did I ever tell you - Part II

Then there was the time, about a year later, when I was stationed in Guam…

My favorite pastime there was snorkeling, which I got fairly proficient at.  Enough so that it even got a bit boring paddling around in the very restricted & shallow lagoon waters, marvelous as they were.  My ventures started taking me outside the reef, once I got over my initial fear, and ‘took the plunge’!  Out there - well, that is a different world entirely.  Deep vertical canyons open out towards the open ocean, with coral walls and pristine white sand floors.  These water wedges in the reef are full of totally tropical fish, flowering coral of all shapes, sizes, colors; the coral reef itself is porous, like a huge rock sponge.  Some of the openings are even large enough to swim into, but the dark interiors are anything but inviting - home to octopus and eels, and who knows what all else.  You feel like you are swimming in an aquarium full of tropical fish, but the scale is off - the fish are up to 3 or 4 feet long!, and the sand floor is about 80 feet down.  You are just one more creature among thousands, they mostly act like you’re not even there (unless you try to touch one - not a chance!).  They are all routinely going about the business of hunting & eating each other, and that makes you pause, and wonder…

Great care must be taken in this very foreign environment.  One always wears sneakers inside your flippers, and gloves with rubberized palms, and if you absolutely must poke something, you do it with your diving knife or spear tip, never your finger.  You guard against any inadvertent skin contact, as live coral stings, and dead coral is razor sharp, and nearly every living thing has teeth or spines or poisons of some kind.  It’s totally ‘Look but Don’t Touch’.  But just looking, just being there is so incredibly awesome - it’s truly one of the most thrilling experiences available on the planet!

And it’s addicting.  Once bitten, it’s hard to stay away.  I rarely snorkeled alone on Guam, as I had dragged most of my friends out with me, and they were most always up for another go.  There was this one afternoon though, when I couldn’t find anyone to take along, but just couldn’t NOT go anyway.  So out there I was, in my favorite spot on the north shore, outside the reef, way down deep in a canyon, chasing this huge parrot fish with my waterproof nikon, trying for that Once-in-a-lifetime shot.  But I had to give it up, just couldn’t get close enough, and anyway - down that deep, his vibrant rainbow colors didn’t show up much, as everything fades to shades of blue-gray.  In fact, there really wasn’t much light at all.  A check of my waterproof watch confirmed that it was getting on evening, time had totally gotten away from me.  (Snorkeling isn’t like scuba in that regard - you never run out of air, well, Xcept between breaths, but, oh - U know what I mean!)  

Anyway - the sun was down, the tide was coming in, I was outside the reef, by myself, and I was just realizing that not a soul in the world knew where I was.  “Ding” - on goes one of those red warning lights in my brain - this isn’t smart.  Time to get out.  But, not wanting to waste a moment of time there, and probably also due to the fact that I am more comfortable swimming underwater than on the surface, down I go again to that irresistible sandy canyon floor, to proceed back up the reef along it’s outer slope.  Right then of course something happens that has never happened to me before - I see a shark.  A Shark - between me and the reef, & we are swimming towards each other.  This shark is not a monster, but he is bigger than me, & here I am, in His back yard, in His house, in His dining room…  on His Plate!  I am hit by a blast of panic so powerful, it feels like every single cell in my body desperately wants to claw my way straight up out of the ocean & scream SHAAAARRRRRRK!!! Luckily, there is a small part of my brain, back in the corner somewhere, that hangs onto logic just enough to remind me that I cannot actually climb Out of the water to safety, but only succeed in thrashing about on the surface, which is Xactly what attracts sharks to come check you out in the first place (Thank You Navy divers for that bit of wisdom in your scuba class!).  Secondly, it reminds me that I’m about a quarter mile from shore, and there is no one there to hear me anyway (you dummy!).  And thirdly - my heart is crashing around in my chest so violently that I am in much greater risk of dyeing of a heart attack than a shark attack - So Get A GRIP!   Right here, a nice deep breath would be therapeutic, but that is out of the question of course, as I am still under some 60 feet of water.  With immense effort, I manage to quench my panic enough to talk myself carefully & slowly back to the surface, grab a few of those deep breaths, and get back under where I can see around a bit still.  The shark has turned aside, and quite unconcernedly proceeds out and away.  Again with Extreme difficulty, I just manage to turn my back on this guy & head home again, only to - did you guess it?, yes? / no? - only to meet the second shark, also between me and the reef, also coming towards me, but (whew!) who also turns aside, & fades out into the depths.  

At this point, I finally remember the camera around my neck, & can’t quite believe I have just seen TWO sharks, and not even attempted to get a picture!  Who will believe me without proof?!?  I am actually (briefly) tempted to go after them, but a swift kick from that logic center gets me back on track, and I finally make it over the reef and back to shore without further trouble.

I have never seen another shark in person.  I know some people make a habit of it, but for me, once was enough.  They would poo poo the risk, but the fact remains that sharks do occasionally kill people.  To meet a predator that is capable of eating you, in his environment (that is so foreign to you) - that is a life-changing event, even if you escape untouched.  It causes you to ponder the fact that most animals live in this fear constantly, and what a great thing it is that dinosaurs are extinct!  Well, it did me anyway.

Did I ever tell you about the time…..

     I was hiking in Glacier (Park, of course) one really fine spring day.  I had chosen an overnight hike that I had done before - one of my favorites, as I had not yet visited that area this season.  It was a fairly easy trail, open & high, that allowed for really exquisite views as well as close up enjoyment of lots of beautiful wild flowers just breaking their way through the melting snow.  This trail was remote enough to avoid a lot of the day-tripper crowd, but relaxed enough to always have some traffic, especially on such fine days.  I was by myself, as usual.  I almost always hiked & camped alone in Glacier.  This was mostly my habit, and preference, and more often than not I strove to avoid any human contact at all.  It wasn’t difficult in those days, and was more in line with my reasons for being there.  Aside from just soaking in the beauty of it all, I was totally into the ‘communing with nature’ thing, 1 on 1.  

     This day was different though.  I was feeling a bit more sociable, not minding meeting the occasional hiker in passing.  I may even have been showing off a little.  As I recall, this was my 3^rd or 4^th season in the park, and I was getting to feel comfortable, experienced, & well equipped.  I was sporting a top-of-the-line pack, with a hi-tech snow tent.  I had a down mummy bag & a down parka.  Svea stove and freeze-dried food, about the latest of everything, carefully & gradually acquired over the years.  This trip, I was even sporting nice new gators, crampons, & an ice axe.  I was the picture of ‘pro’.  
     The ice gear was because this trail, at this time of year, crossed a really nice snowfield part way up.  In the fall, it would be a fairly easy walk across this steep scree slope, but until then the trail was lost under this immense field of ice & snow, which tended to get really slick, especially in the afternoons when the sun warmed it just enough to melt the surface.  As you know, there is nothing slipperier than wet ice, and I had seen people fall here several times before - ending up in really undignified tangles of gear & limbs & lost clothing, etc.  Hence the ice gear - Not going to happen to me!  (Yeah, right.)  

     So, 2^nd day, on the way out, here I was, cruising along about the middle of the snowfield, enjoying everything about the day, and instantly - I mean, No warning at all - I’m upside down in mid air.  Not much confusion, just total surprise - I slipped!  (I mean, dude!, I’m wearing crampons!, I have 50 pounds in my pack!, I have an ice axe in my hand!  How could I have just slipped like that?!?).  Next instant, Slam!, Flat on my back, already sliding Fast down the slope.  OK, no panic, here’s where mental preparedness kicks in, I have the gear for this, I know what to do.  Emergency release buckle gets me out of the pack quickly.  I flip over onto my chest, draw my ice axe underneath me (it is attached to my wrist with a leather thong, so it’s right there when I need it), and sliding now feet first, twist the point into the ice, (all the while of course keeping my knees bent, feet in the air - don’t want to chance catching the crampons in the ice during this maneuver as that would only flip me head-over-heals, bad idea!)  

     Nothing happens.  I seemingly don’t even slow down.  Starting to worry - this isn’t how it’s supposed to go.  I seize the shaft of the axe two handed, and slam the spike into the ice with all my weight & strength - bounces right out.  Again, same result.  Now I’m going Really fast, & running out of snowfield.  I have no idea what’s below it - can’t see that from the trail.  Interestingly, I’m also very aware of the fact that there are several people on the trail above watching all this, must be interesting.  I hit a ridge in the snowfield & become momentarily airborne - I am really moving now.  

     The ice below this ridge is different, clear, very hard, but also wet.  Time for one last try, tuck the axe under again & twist in the point, same result - nothing.  I’m off balance now & sliding almost sideways when Slam - I hit the cornice at the edge of the ice.  It’s like a frozen wave, or dune, at the very edge of the ice formed when the snow curled up there in the wind during some past blizzard… and it stops me.  About a half a second later my pack slams into me & also stops.  Amazing.  

     We just rest there for a bit, recuperate, catch our breath.  I think I tried to peer over the cornice, but I couldn’t see anything, so - not going there.  Check my self over - sore knee, nothing major (no blood).  Check my gear - all there.  Tie my pack to my belt with a cord so it follows along, 10 feet behind or so, and proceed to very carefully cut steps into the ice with the axe that I can anchor my crampon toes into.  Thusly, I creep slowly back up to the trail, no further incidents.  

     That whole adventure took about an hour, and I now have the trail to myself again.  With much more care I finished the crossing, stowed my crampons, and walked back out to my waiting truck.  At one point farther down the slope, I was able to look back and see that the cornice that stopped me was actually hanging over the edge of a cliff (where they typically form), some 400 feet above a pile of broken rock.  

Don’t know why I woke up thinking about this, it was some 40 yrs ago.  Just a reminder of how short life could have been, I guess.