Swimming with the fishies

Last week, I talked my girlfriend into a Netflix night. Now, it's safe to say we have pretty different tastes when it comes to film and cinema.

She likes Sci-Fi and fantasy flicks while I enjoy movies that are actually good.

Since college, I have been interested in documentaries and I hope to film one myself one day. The one we watched last week was called The Cove.

I highly recommend it if you're into the docs. It's about the dolphin slaughter going on in Japan and an activist's pursuit to bring the atrocity to light. Very powerful stuff.



As a result, my girlfriend is now a vegetarian.

The next day, I had a few free hours before journalism so I put on a bathing suit and headed to Morning Star beach, a public beach right next to the Marriott Hotel on the south end of St. Thomas.

During my parents visit last month, they bought me a snorkel kit at K-Mart and I just then realized I had not broke the flips and mask in yet.

While gliding across the surface of the water and with the sun scorching my back, I couldn't help but think about the movie. I don't want to ruin it for you -- SPOILER ALERT -- but the actual slaughter scene is quite traumatizing.

It made me appreciate the pureness of the island's beauty and the wildlife that surrounds it. At that moment, I felt even fishing was not cool.

Then I had to write a story in today's paper about a kiddie fishing tournament ... those kids got free pizza, free fishing rods, a free T-shirt and the winners got a $50 cash prize. Did I mention they were all younger than 12? Pretty bad ass.

Anyway, snorkeling in the territory is sort of a pastime. Like baseball back in the States. The best spot I've been to so far has to be -- TOURIST ALERT -- at Trunk Bay on St. John. The V.I. Tourism Administration needs to throw me a few nickels here but Trunk Bay is pretty bad ass itself.

I spent my birthday there...with a James Bond chick.


Whenever an out-of-towner visits, it always makes for a great excuse to get back out there. There's a small cay about 50 yards from the beach and there's scuba signs along the reef to guide tourists on what they're actually looking at.

I need to learn more about the fish that inhabit this area. They sure are fun to look at and swim with.

Snorkeling is a great time to turn off your brain and just soak up the surroundings. I prefer to do it alone. That is, until some yuppie tourist kid tugs on your leg and asks you if there are any sharks in these parts.

"Nah," I remember saying. "No sharks. But I heard the dolphins come through here from time to time. Say, have you ever seen The Cove?"

Pepto-Bismol and kayaks

I wish I had photos to show you.

Woke up Saturday during the Memorial Day weekend with a text message waiting for me.

"Conditions look OK, meet at 2 p.m. at the Eco-Tour dock."

Sounds innocent enough, I thought. The message was from my friend, Bill, who takes people out on kayak tours around the island. He does that to fund his sailing endeavors as he frequents the local saloons at night. He also lives on a boat, which I think is pretty cool.

Anyway, I met Bill the second week I was here. I was driving back to the East End (where my boss lives -- she let us stay at her house until we found our own digs) and I saw three guys hitch-hiking on the side of the road. Still fresh from my Appalachian Trail hiking days, I picked them up.

It was Bill and two buddies of his. One guy was from Australia. They were so happy for the ride, and I guess I seemed normal enough, so they invited me out for the night and it was the first time I ever went to Duffy's, an infamous bar in Red Hook located inside a parking lot. Good times.

Now back to my freaking story.

It was pretty cloudy out and the wind was picking up but Bill is the expert. Brianna and I grabbed up some towels, I packed my make-shirt snorkel and we headed for the dock.

Bill and his roommate, I mean boat mate (or is it first mate?), and two other friends were already there loading up the kayaks. The plan was to kayak out to the middle of nowhere and do a little surface diving. Sounds innocent enough, right?

Once we left the calm waters near the dock, the swells started to pick up. They must have been about 5 feet tall on the way out. Brianna was in front of our two-man kayak and was getting frustrated with my paddle timing. It's hard bringing up the rear sometimes.

After about 30 minutes of crazy kayaking -- we capsized only once -- we connected to a buoy and got in the water. Bill and his first mate, Zack, were crazy. I didn't have fins but I tried my best to catch up with them. I just sat at the surface with my snorkel, where waves were crashing down, and watched these two dive 30 feet down, swim through a coral reef tunnel and emerge again.

"How the hell did you do that?" I asked before taking in a mouthful of salt water.

"We do this shit everyday," Bill said. "Give it a try!"

With two experts in my midst, I figured it was worth an attempt. I started my dive and forgot to plug my nose. I wasn't 10 feet deep before the pressure was too much and pulled a 180 for the surface again.

I have to start hanging out with these guys more often, I thought.

When we got back to the kayaks, the swells really started to pummel us. Zack confirmed my suspicion that it had gotten much worse since we tied up the kayaks almost an hour ago.

Now exhausted and with a belly full of salt water, I was back on the kayak and prepared for the my return trip with waves literally crashing down on us. It was not a pretty sight.

I immediately started to get sea sick and my body was starting to shut down. I felt like jumping off the kayak and swimming to shore because the motion in the ocean was breaking me.

After every three paddles, I had to take a breather. Bill said I was grimacing. I had no fuel. I felt like passing out.

Then the waves really started to hit us and our kayak flipped over three times. Yes, THREE TIMES! In a matter of five minutes. It was embarrassing.

After the third fall, the trained experts knew it was time to transition from kayak adventure to kayak rescue. Bill and Zack came back, tied a rope to their vessel and started to tow us in.

(A news editor just looked over my shoulder and asked me which blogger I was reading. I lied and said my friend who lives in Malaysia. Where the hell did I get that from? Little do they know I regularly post to my own blog from my office. Still not sure I can let them in on this so for now, this little project is just our little secret. OK?)

When Bill and Zack were towing us in, I slumped back and closed my eyes. I've been sea sick in big boats before but nothing like this. It was like paddle or die. I wish I could of just snapped my finger and be on land again. That would have been sweet.

As soon as we got back into comfortable waters, my strength immediately came back, the color in my face returned and I was happy. Happy that I did not die.

When I am going to learn? I get sea sick. I can't help it, yet, I constantly defy that fact every chance I get.

"And you always talk about going on a cruise," Brianna said to me back at the dock.

I just want to order a Porterhouse steak at 3 a.m. and see if they bring it up to my room. That may be the sole reason I want to take a cruise. That, and gambling.

Who doesn't like to mix blackjack with some Pepto-Bismol?