Personal Narrative-Captain Cook: The Hawaiian Island

“Captain Cook”
Most people experience dramatic events that demonstrate to them just how fragile life is. Whether these events are acts of gruesome violence, or deaths of a loved ones, the frailty of life is evident. However, for me, this was a different story. As a southern white-boy, my realization came in the most unexpected of places – the Hawaiian Islands. When I learned of a snorkeling trip mid-vacation, I was overcome with anticipation and couldn’t wait to embark on my “Pacific Pilgrimage.” This vacation would prove to be a dramatic turning point in my life.
As my family and I sped along the coast, the sour smell of sulfur vents and sea salt pungently gusted through my nostrils. My clothes were damp from the constant spray of seawater. My sense of balance was overcome by the sequential hop from wave to wave and – combined with the

boisterous hum of the motor – created a feeling unlike any previous instance of motion sickness I had ever experienced. We seemed hundreds of miles from civilization, and as we grew closer to shore, the preparation stage began. I nervously donned my fins and mask while the boat Captain warned us of threatening species of fish and the proper strategies to employ in case of danger. Our target was Captain Cook Bay, known to the locals as “Kealakekua Bay.” It was a small cove, several miles south of Kona, known for its spectacular coral reefs and exotic fish. As we neared closer to the Fish Bowl, a pod of Bottlenose dolphins erupted from the ocean surface just a couple hundred feet away. They ejected themselves from their watery domain for just a few seconds of graceful airtime. “There must be at least twenty of them!” I exclaimed.
“Most of them are probably asleep, they subconsciously follow the leader of the pod,” the captain acutely responded. The scene was almost poetic. As the pod resubmerged, we turned our attention back towards our destination. The boat slowed to a brisk cruise as it entered the bay. Shortly after coming to an abrupt stop, the boat captain descended from the wheelhouse to where we were seated on the sundeck and announced, “We’ve arrived.”
I remember thinking to myself, “Finally the boat ride is over,” then I leaned over the side of the boat and re-experienced the Poi I ate during the previous night’s dinner.

My vomit clouded the ocean surface with a purple-brown color before fading below the depths. On the other side of the vessel, I re-equipped my mask and plunged into the water to be greeted by my aunt – she was to be my snorkeling partner as she had much experience in the depths of Hawaii. When I submerged my head it was almost as if I had entered a new world. This unseen dimension housed a coral reef that vibrantly shone with a mixture of bright reds and deep blues. The reef almost seemed to pulsate as thousands of fish darted in and out of their subterranean homes. The water was thick with salt and teemed with plankton. We often resurfaced to point out fish to each other. I remember my aunt telling me of the environmental dangers of touching the still-living coral. “If you pierce its skin it will likely become infected and die, and all of the fish who live in it will die too,” she expertly explained. From then on I kept my distance to at least 5-6

feet.
After thoroughly exploring the reef, we slowly swam further out so sea. The ocean floor was a slow descent about 15-20 feet below us. Suddenly the water became still and the pacific sands dropped and disappeared below the haze of ocean water. The only sounds to be heard were my deep breaths and the swift strokes of my fins. I had reached the drop off. The ocean shelf was as steep as a wall and was so deep it simply faded out of view. I was flooded with the feeling of vulnerability and felt as if at anytime I would be attacked from an unknown direction. I was suddenly startled as a juvenile Puffer Fish darted in and out of view only a few feet from me. I was well aware that a single spine could kill me in minutes, as the poison is more than one-hundred times as toxic as Potassium Cyanide – not to mention the hundreds of species of Jellyfish native to the waters surrounding the Hawaiian Isles. These might have included species like the infamous Box Jellyfish, unanimously recognized as the most venomous marine animal on planet Earth.
Although I escaped this experience without injury, it incited an epiphany – I realized how irrelevant a single person was in comparison to the infinite vastness of nature. . During the ride back, I meditated on this for some time, which helped to ease my mind of the nausea I was experiencing. I had realized that a slight degree of unluckiness, combined with a “wrong place, wrong time” situation could have the most devastating of effects. From then on my entire mindset was altered, causing me to become much more cautious, self-aware, and alert. This experience also taught me to enjoy the positives of life. If I was suddenly caught by the vice-grip of death, I want to have experienced my life to the fullest and be withheld from as few experiences as possible.