Kelly said she was already out further than she was comfortable with, and we started swimming back toward the buoys. We were making very slow progress, as there was a strong current going out to sea, which belied the swells rolling into shore. It was at this point I remembered the description of channel currents from our “Snorkel Kauai” book. Water rushes to shore through the channel and over the surrounding coral, as the high wave/swell is able to get over the coral. But when it flows back out to sea without that high wave/swell, all the water flows back out through the channel. More water flowing out the channel than in the channel means a strong current pulling out to sea.
Kelly was not making fast progress towards the buoys, and popped up to tell me “I’m panicking a bit.” I coached her to relax, take deep breaths, and make long, deliberate strokes, with mini-rests in between (I was behind her and had noticed it seemed like she was thrashing a bit). She tried flipping onto her back and swimming that way. I should mention that I was never panicked during any of this. Our situation was indeed a bit scary, but Hanauma Bay is well lifeguarded. I knew even if we were in trouble, we wouldn’t actually be in trouble. Speaking of, I looked back toward shore and saw a lifeguard paddling on his board straight toward us. I alerted Kelly, who despite being freaked out by our situation, was disturbed the lifeguard was having to come save us. Kelly turned back on her stomach (though without her snorkel), and tried again to fight the current, with me behind her. I had just gotten to the point of considering linking arms and trying to help her swim in that way. I tried it for a brief second…bad idea…it doesn’t work. I’m still not sure what the best strategy is for helping someone in a situation like that. It would have taken most all my strength to fight the current myself. I think the solution is to not get into that situation in the first place.
The lifeguard arrived very calm, had Kelly put in her snorkel, and had us grip the back of his board with one hand and swim with the other (and kick), while he paddled on the board. We made it safely through the buoys, then swam to shore to rest and regroup, before heading back out to explore the INNER reef. Kelly is still very embarrassed about us needing to be saved. She thinks it’s a typical dumb tourist thing to do (which it is). In fact, she was leery of me writing about it here. But my blog answers to no one. No one! Actually, I think it’s cute that she’s so embarrassed about it, and am willing to risk her wrath when she reads this. Love you, babe!
Kelly disagreed, but I thought it was the best snorkeling of our trip. I have one major reason: the fish were unafraid of humans. Big fish, small fish, all the same creatures we had seen on Kauai (and in larger number), but now we were swimming feet and sometimes inches from them. I could reach out my hand, and the fish would stay put, allowing me to almost graze their tails before they would leisurely swim on. I could get close enough to the large parrotfish to hear the crunching sound it makes when eating the outer layer of goodies off the coral.
That afternoon Kelly poked around Waikiki’s shops while I wrote and read in the shade of the hotel pool. I could tell you about how Kelly popped an Ambien and slept soundly on the plane while I continuously contorted by legs and torso yet failed to find comfort. Or I could tell you at 6am the next morning we arrived back in L.A. to find my car’s battery had died. But that would steal focus from what I wish to leave you with, which is that our Hawaiian vacation was relaxing and enjoyable. Now there’s something that was easy to predict.
Aloha.
