I had to school this man on beach etiquette the other day for playing with my sanity. I was going along on my morning swim out at Cabbage Beach. As I approached the rocks at the Eastern end of Paradise Island I saw this ominous figure on the point. In between my freestyle strokes, gasping for air and maneuvering through the rough waves, the figure was not immediately recognizable. Not to mention I was not wearing glasses or goggles, so my eyes were salt-drenched and my vision a blur. Turns out it was a tourist fishing.
Swimming in the ocean was one of the things I said I wanted to do on my treasure hunt. That mission was accomplished once I found a willing accomplice. The first morning we went out it was overcast and rainy. The walk to the beach is through a long passageway between a hotel and a sports complex. It leads to a wooden staircase with three platforms that overlook the entire stretch of beach to the east and west. The first day we stood on top of the steps we knew we were crazy, and it felt good. We briefly contemplated turning back, but the rain already had us wet and the sea was calling us. We swam about a half-mile with no goggles in the open sea and pouring rain. The adrenalin rush drowned out the fear.
The next day we continued our routine, this time with newly purchased goggles, clear skies and calm seas. What greeted us at the top of the steps was a mile of undulating white sand in each direction being washed by a calm overflow of sea blues that melted into a gradient of sponge painted white clouds on sky blue. On day one we felt crazy. On day two we felt blessed.
Along the swim I thought about the saying: ignorance is bliss. Now that I could see every needle fish or jack, every piece of sea grass, every rock, rope and discarded Kalik bottle, I was terrified. When the waves churned up the sand on the seabed my mind created images of sleeping sea monsters being woken from their slumber. I would try to close my eyes, but end up swimming into my partner, or being separated from him after swimming off blindly in the wrong direction. This time I had to practice mind over matter and let my intention drown out my fear.
On an ordinary day, visibility is high: in 20 to 30 feet of water, the sand patterns in the aquatic desert are discernable from the surface of the water. When I am taken aback by the serenity of the underworld I dive down to the seafloor and run my fingers through the sand. I flip over and look up at the reflection of the world, and then push off the ground and shoot up through the water for a deep breath of sea breeze.
The first day I saw a baraccuda it was a medium-sized, silver one. I looked up from my breaststroke and there it was flashing past us on the surface of the water a few feet ahead. Samora was all into his swim and did not see it. The second incident was another story. The silver spine of the ‘barry’ was blackened: he was a big boy. I tugged at Samora to alert him. We were all the way out by the roped buoys, at least 30-meters from shore. The barry was swimming parallel to us just at our rear. We stopped to watch him for a few moments. This barry was more than curious. He was hawkish. He approached us slowly, rising closer to the surface of the water. His jaws slowly opened to bear his teeth, as he circled us.
“Should we keep swimming or go back to shore?” I said to Samora. Meanwhile he was feeling completely helpless wondering how he would protect me if something happened.
“Come, let’s go on the other side of the ropes,” he said, watching the barry carefully. As we changed direction and moved further out to sea, the barry continued to position himself between us and land. We started to move slowly in the direction we had just come from until there was a clear path to head to shore. The barracuda escorted us all the way in before moseying off. We were spooked for several days after that. One warning from the barracuda about swimming out so far was enough, so instead of our usual swim by the buoys, we decided to swim close to shore.
All of this was in the back of my head a few days ago when that ominous figure on the rocks spooked me out. That day we could see the white-capped waves from a vantage point on top of the bridge connecting Nassau to Paradise Island. The wind had arrived with the cold front and the sea was in playful spirit. I convinced Samora to get in the water, but once we were in I had second thoughts about making the swim. The overcast sky cast a shadow on the sea. The violent waves invoked bloodthirsty visions of wild predators. The rogue barracuda we saw the other day was still on my mind.
“I have an idea. Let’s tread water for bout 20-mintues an dat could be our workout,” I said. Samora could sense I was afraid.
“You ain gatta to worry, sharks and then kind a ting don’t feed in this kind a weather; they just be chillin,” he said.
He convinced me to swim, but not before I handed him my goggles. He forgot his that morning and I decided I was not going to be the only one with clear eyes. I preferred blurred vision that day. He was thinking the same thing, but graciously accepted the burden on my behalf.
Now you can imagine how I felt when I realized there was some idiot fishing on the rocks we were headed towards. My pace quickened the closer we got. I wanted to just reach the beach as fast as I could. When our feet were on the ground I noticed two tourists snorkeling. After reveling in our accomplishment of making it all the way through the torrent of waves, I approached the tourists.
“Is that man with you guys?” I said, to a no reply.
I walked over the beach to the rocks and climbed all the way out to the point. Jagged edges crunched below my bare feet. I showed no pain when I misstepped on an uneven surface.
“Excuse me sir. Good morning, I’m Noelle. I just wanted to let you know that what you are doing is not illegal or anything, but it is bad manners to fish on a beach where people are swimming,” I said.
“If you catch anything, it might bring barracudas and sharks and things like that.”
He was startled by my audacity, but humbled as well.
“Well, I was fishing here before you reached, but I see what you are saying,” he said.
“Well, this is a popular swimming beach, as you can see all the resorts along the coast. Perhaps you can go on the other side of the rocks, or around by the other cove. I am sorry to have spoiled you fun, but thank you so much for understanding,” I said, before diving off the rocks to meet Samora and swim back into shore.
I kind of felt bad afterwards, but not really.