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by Witta Priester and Richard Baughn  Moorea Boat Trip
I'm the first one into the water. Warm waves are pushing me forward. The strong current and erratic swells are quickly driving me away from the prow of the 25 ft. outrigger. The barrier reef and the breakers are about 200 yards behind me. I've made it to the rope. The rope I'm to hang on to. Lose hold of it and who knows where I'll end up. The rope is secured to the canoe at one end and to a large submerged piece of coral at the other. Part of it is held up with a life vest. Right now I'm wondering if I should be wearing one. The rope seems like a lifeline, but can it hold us? The current is so strong and there are at least five of us holding on, albeit tenuously. The rope is stretched across my chest. The water is pushing me into and sometimes over its rough surface. The snorkel and mask seem to fit thank goodness; I hadn't had the chance to adjust them yet. The water though turbulent is clear enough to see 20 to 30 feet out. The underwater scene in front of me is chaotic. There are some coral outcroppings nearby. There's the rope and the tying rock. There are fish everywhere. Hundreds of them, various kinds, some brightly colored, some black and white striped, some pale shades of brown. They're swarming around right in front of us in frenzy. The guides have thrown some pieces of fish into the water. They're each trying to get their share of this bounty. The turbulence makes it hard to stay focused on the scene. Don't want to lose my grip on the rope and get carried into the sharks, our real reason for being in this particular spot. There are ten or twelve sharks. The guides, two young Tahitians, keep throwing more chunks of fish. We're here in the open water to watch these wild sharks being fed. The sharks are black tips, about 3-4 feet long with black edging on their dorsal and tail fins. They're accustomed to this feeding and don't seem to take much notice of us humans. Then again, I can't actually keep eye contact with them, what with all the jostling and unsteadiness. The guides standing on the coral somehow keep the bait out of the water with one hand and occasionally throw a piece to the sharks. This shark feeding is much rougher than I had expected. (No warnings about waves, nor questions about swimming ability.) I only stay in the water for about ten minutes. I wanted to ensure I had sufficient strength to swim against the current and waves back to the boat. The rope was not going to be much help; the rest of the group was still using it and were in the way. I got back into the boat to find Mary dabbing lime on her leg, which was bleeding from half a dozen cuts where she must have contacted the coral. The third woman on this adventure came in right after I did, the bottom of her foot crimson. Dick had a scrape on his ankle. When everyone was back on board, only Tony and I were unscathed. Even one of the guides had gouged out a piece of his shin. Swimming with sharks in bloody water, Tahitian-style fun!
And there was more to come. The next stop was the stingray feeding. This was done in shallower, gentler water. The guides jumped out of the canoe and were standing on the sandy bottom in three feet of crystal-clear water. "Come in" they say. I can see several stingrays. They're along the side of the boat. "Come in" they say. What the hey! Again, I'm the first one with my mask on and into the water. At least a dozen stingrays slowly meander along the ocean floor all around us. Dark gray, flat and kite-shaped, about two-feet across with a whip-like tail about 20 inches long, they move with graceful undulations reminiscent of a bird soaring. Their mouths are underneath their bodies, their black and gray eyes look upwards. The guide taps the water and the rays come almost to the surface for the food. They eat right out of his hand. And so he brings the ray's head right next to me. I touch it. It's slippery and soft and very smooth. The stingrays just keep swimming underfoot. I could stand, but prefer to keep my feet off the bottom most of the time. The feeding lasts for half an hour. Dick sees two sharks nearby. I decide I'm ready to rest in the outrigger again. The tour continues... around the island (magnificent views of the bays and craggy tooth-like, green mountains) to a private motu (islet) where we snorkel, eat fresh pineapples and coconut, visit with 40 or so (free-range or rather, free-beach) chickens and their chicks, and watch as our guides make sun hats and small baskets out of green palm branches. What an adventure! T R A V E L M E N U M A I N M E N U Copyright © 1999-2000 Witta Priester and Richard Baughn. More Travels by Wita and Richard, visit http://www.Dickandwitta.com/ comments |