A shark was between me and the shore
If you’re an aging surfer seeking a relaxed break on the south shore of O‘ahu and don’t mind a semi-long paddle out, Tonggs is for you. Look up and you see Diamond Head, to the left all of Waikīkī. Fun, consistent waves over a mix of reef, rocks, and sandbars. It fronts a sea wall, with only two entry points over about a half mile of shoreline.
Sharks aren’t unknown there or anywhere in the islands, but when a shark is observed behaving aggressively near shore—thrashing, splashing, hunting—signs are posted, and beaches sometimes closed.
You read the title, so you know how this story starts. Out on my longboard, yielding every wave anyone else was even distantly riding, just happy to be out there. Got my share of leftovers then started the long paddle back in. By myself.
About halfway back to shore I heard a splash maybe 100 feet ahead of me, that I thought was a random wave crashing on a shallow part of the inside reef. Then the unmistakeable intense, rhythmic thrash of a very big fish in very shallow water. With a dorsal fin. It was moving way too quickly for me to gauge its size, or positively identify it as a harmless reef shark or a potentially very-not-harmless tiger shark.
Don’t splash.
Don’t paddle away.
Get as much of your body on top of your board as you can.
My brain was shouting at my heart to stop thumping so loudly. No one else was around. I was too far away to yell to other surfers.
Maybe don’t yell at all. Or maybe do? Fuck.
Another splash, with a thrashing tail fin. A little further away, but even more directly between me and the exit point. No waves were breaking this far inside, so I slowly lifted my head up and strained to see any evidence of its location or direction, if it was over a reef or in deeper water. But one of the things you learn here is that not all sharks of the same species behave the same. They have individual personalities.
Fifty years I’ve been in the ocean. I’ve probably swam with a hundred sharks. This is just the first one I’ve seen.
Silence. I remember ripples hitting the bottom of my board much too loudly for my liking. I thought if that shark splashed again, it might attract other sharks. It might have already.
Why is no one else out here?
I turned my head back toward the break and saw surfers in the distance. Just normal times.
Then.
If I die out here. In the Hawaiian ocean. I’d be okay with it.
I have never in my life before or since had a thought like that.
But it calmed me down.
More silence.
And I started, very slowly, paddling in. Angling away from where the shark had been, toward the further of the two exits onto the sea wall. I've never paddled so smoothly and efficiently, never been more aware of my movements and surroundings. My eyes were no longer engorged with panic.
In the shallows I felt the sticky roughness of the surf wax on my forearm, heard sea water drip from my head onto the deck of my board, felt my slippers crunch through the rocks and dirt of the trail back to the truck.
This is a true story. Posting because I want to remember it.