Shipped(35)

I blink open my eyes. My face is underwater. I can see the velvety sand beneath Graeme’s fins. I’m breathing. “I did it!” I shout, but it comes out a garbled mess through my snorkel and I pop out of the water.

“Think you can do it again?”

Replacing my snorkel, I take three deep breaths. On the third, I tip forward to float. When the water rushes into my ears, my breathing hitches, but I manage to stay calm this time. In fact, I’m calmer in the water than I’ve ever felt. I can see what’s beneath the surface and I can breathe just fine. I flash a thumbs-up above me.

Hard part’s over. Now, what’s out there to see?

I paddle my legs in a strong, smooth motion and shoot forward. My belt creates drag but my fins propel me with ease. Graeme’s beside me now, peering through his mask. The seafloor spreads beneath us in a subtle decline.

It’s gloriously quiet. Except for the whirr of my own breath and the swooshing burble of water in my ears, it’s silent under the waves. The ocean is a deep, briny blue shifting to glaring white when I dip down and peer into its shining, reflective surface.

I spot my first tropical fish.

It’s huge, as long as my forearm, with iridescent orange scales. I have no idea what kind of fish it is, but I still squeal in my throat, nudge Graeme, and point to it. It’s wandering lazily, meandering along the ocean’s sandy bottom.

We continue on. The seafloor turns rocky and the Galápagos Marine Reserve unfolds, revealing its treasures in a brightly colored, watery spectacle. Starfish that look like they’re covered in chocolate chips and bigger ones in a rainbow of pinks, blues, and purples sprawl across pockets of sand. More fish pass beneath us—black and white, shimmering pink, storm-cloud gray, then a school of gleaming midnight blue with orange fins and a white stripe. They dart and weave in unison, and I’m mesmerized by how their countless bodies undulate as one.

After what feels like hours, Graeme splashes for my hand. Tugs it. My stomach tightens. He guides me around him, pointing to a shadow approaching through the murk. My heartbeat accelerates. I sweep my arms wildly, propelling myself backward. He brushes my forearm with his fingertips and motions emphatically for me to look again.

The shadow consolidates. A form comes into view. A smooth, brown head. A slick, streamlined body. It whizzes toward us, then veers at the last second, looping through the water like a graceful torpedo—a sea lion.

No, a baby sea lion. I squeal in delight, chest exploding with cuteness overload.

As it swirls nearer, the sea lion’s big, glassy black eyes peer at us curiously while its long whiskers trail through the water. Graeme lifts a small, waterproof video camera that’s looped around his wrist. It’s hard to tell with a snorkel in his mouth, but I think he’s smiling. Without warning, the sea lion darts toward me. I recoil reflexively before a cascade of bubbles engulfs my mask. It bounds away, swerving and somersaulting

The sea lion is playing with us. In a flash of flippers, it blows bubbles at Graeme next. A current catches us, and before I know it, a large wall of rock looms ahead. Beside its coral-dotted, jagged edges, two other baby sea lions dip and dive in a spirited dance. The current presses me forward, and I pump my arms against the push-pull of the waves.

The sun shimmers above and nature swirls all around. Time slows and I’m lost in the wildlife and waves—with Graeme.

As suddenly as the sea lions appeared, they scatter. I twist my head, trying to track where they went. I look down. And stop breathing altogether.

I’m in deep water. And beneath us, there’s a shark.



* * *



I scream and flail as Graeme fumbles for my shoulder. He’s not swimming away.

Is he crazy? There’s a shark down there! And I might as well be chum!

My breaths come faster as panic trickles out of its cage.

I kick, but he holds firm. I look down.

The shark isn’t coming at us; it’s swimming away, its powerful gray body rippling far below us, the white tips of its dorsal fin and tail gleaming in the muted, murky light. I suck in a rattling breath through my snorkel. It’s actually… beautiful. Scary as shit, but beautiful. I swim, cautiously, after it. I never imagined I’d see a shark in the wild, let alone from this vantage point. Like a hawk flying above a sparrow. Except in this situation, even though I’m the one above, I feel like the sparrow.

My soul recognizes what I’ve been feeling this entire day. First on the hike and now, swimming with Graeme. It’s something I haven’t experienced in a long, long time.

Wonder.

Barely daring to breathe, I watch the shark as it slices through the water and disappears from view. My heart flutters against my ribs and I feel like whooping and crying and fist-pumping all at the same time.

Fog creeps along my mask. Pulling a one-eighty, I paddle until I’m out of the current, lift my head above the waves, and push my mask onto my forehead.

Holy hell are we far from shore. We swam straight out toward a rocky outcropping at least two football fields away from the beach. One of the Zodiacs drifts several yards away, the naturalist on board keeping a close eye on us. I was so entranced I hadn’t noticed how far we’d gone. Or how deep the water had become. Huh.

Graeme surfaces next to me and spits out his snorkel. “That was incredible!”

“Oh my God, those baby sea lions.”