A Fool's Fool: Stop Thinking and Swim

Early Spring 2001

I sat down in the dark surf and put on my freediving fins. My spear rolled with the wave against my waist. A full moon cast its shimmering light through the inky water.

“You ready?” Jimmy Davis asked.

We were on the beach just behind his backyard on Oahu’s north shore. I’d fallen in love with freediving over the course of the past two months. I’d SCUBA dived before, but it didn’t compare to the feeling of strapping on massive fins and going as deep and far as you lungs could take you. This was my first night dive.

I flipped on the dive light, said yes, and followed him into the Pacific. The first hundred yards of water was shallow. At points, we had to scramble over the sharp volcanic rocks that lined the bottom. Then the ocean opened up.

I wasn’t ready for how dark it was. Surrounded by salt water with nothing to guide my way but a four-inch diameter dive light. Black water pushed against the little stream of white. I couldn’t help but think of the tiger sharks that frequented the area.

I couldn’t see Jimmy’s light. I panicked and surfaced. Remembering the mantra of “never separate from your dive buddy.” He was twenty yards away. I swam in his direction.

Eventually, I got more comfortable in the water. Swimming along the bottom. Fish of all sizes darted back and forth through the lava rock and coral. A massive sea turtle lay in a sandy patch. I floated over the serene relic from the age of the dinosaurs. Feeling at one with the living planet as never before.

Jimmy and I separated three more times before finally separating for good. It wasn’t on purpose, but it wasn’t possible to explore the dark waters and keep track of each other at the same time.

I breathed the tropical air through the snorkel and then launched myself down through rocks below. Silver fish shimmered past my light. Octopus tentacles danced away from me. I could feel the water rush by my skin as the long fins propelled me through the depths.

My lungs began to ache, crying for more air. I arched my back and swam upward. The top of my head slammed into a lava rock. A mix of pain and terror sparked through my body. I raised the dive light. It illuminated a rocky ceiling above me. My lungs screamed for relief.

My mind scrambled to assess the situation. It was clear that I’d swum into an enclosed rock formation. I didn’t know if it was a tunnel that would open up or a cave that would dead end. I didn’t know deep I was in the formation and therefore if turning around and trying to swim out would mean certain death.

I quieted my mind and swam forward. Fighting the fear that would devour through the remaining oxygen in my system. My fins moved left, right, left pushing me through the rock formation.

Eventually the rock above me opened up and I launched myself toward the air. I broke the surface and gasped the air into my screaming lungs. After twenty or so breaths, I realized that I was alive and started laughing with joy.

After calming down, I went back down. I was careful to stay above the rock formations. I dove for another half hour, then began to swim back towards the twinkling lights of shore. I swam and I swam, but the lights only seemed to get further away.

I caught my breath and tried to figure out what was going on. It was only after I’d stopped completely that I felt the tug of the current, pulling me away from shore. I dropped down again and began to swim with all had, trying to free myself from the current.

I surfaced. The lights were even further than before. I was trapped. The way forward had nothing to offer. I had to swim parallel to the shore with the flow of the current, hoping to swim out of the current.

I swam for ten more minutes and then tried again for shore. Still stick, being pushed out further. It was time for a decision, Keep pushing ahead towards shore or drop my weight and begin to float with the current. From what I heard anyone stuck in the current had bought themselves a one way seventy or so mile trip to Maui. If you didn’t have the strength to swim into the Maui shore, then you were headed to the open ocean.

I filled my lungs with air and dropped down in the water. I kicked and prayed, kicked and prayed. I surfaced and then went down again. Over and over. Eventually, I felt the fins gaining traction in the water. I pulled the air in through the snorkel and kicked.

I don’t know how long I was in the current, but I broke free and I don’t know if I’ve ever seen a more beautiful sight than the flicking lights from shore growing closer and closer.

I learned two lessons that night. The first is that there is a thousand ways for a fool to die on dry land and ten thousand in the water. The second is that sometimes you have to just keep going, beyond fear and beyond reason. There’s always a way back to shore as long as you don’t lose yourself in the situation and give up.