Travel Series
Violent Thrashing Sharks and Rainbow Giant Clams
Don’t laugh while you’re scuba diving, my visit to the Great Barrier Reef
When my friend’s Nepal Peace Corps tour ended, she traveled through Australia on her way back home to the United States. Another friend and I squeezed out 17 days of vacation to fly to Australia and join her on the great Australian whirlwind tour.
This is how I found myself traveling backpack style through Australia.
After securing a ride and hostel beds, our next order of business was the itinerary.
Each of us provided two-three must do’s. From those, we created our itinerary. I thrust “scuba dive on the Great Barrier Reef” to the top of my non-negotiable must do.
My compadres weren’t scuba divers, but they were open to snorkeling, so we consulted with a travel agent (yes, this was a while ago) on what, when, where, and how to get there. The Great Barrier Reef was 2,412.1km (1,498.8miles) from our hostel in Sydney.
After exploring Sydney for 5 days, we boarded a bus and spent a few days riding up the coast (with only 1 stopover 1/2 way there) to the top of Australia, Cairns.
By the way, 48 hours on a bus is freaking hell. I don’t recommend it unless you’re in your 20’s and even then, I still don’t recommend it.
Once we hit the pavement in Cairns, we secured a ride, a new hostel room (privacy!), and a dive boat that took both snorkelers and divers.
To protect the reef from ignorant beings, er — that is, inexperienced reef divers — they have a law that a dive master shall accompany all charter divers. A dive master is an experienced and well-trained diver who knows the ins and outs of the reef.
He commanded DO NOT TOUCH any part of the reef unless he, the dive master, showed us it was safe to do so. And he would indicate this by touching it with his hand first. This was the number one rule. If we didn’t follow it, we could die.
The second rule was to not get eaten by sharks. I jest. This was MY number one rule. In fact, I became a scuba diver in an attempt to face my fear of sharks.
Thanks Jaws. Who thought watching Jaws would be fun for an under 10-year-old? Sitting in the front row no less, because the theater was 100% packed and the adults would barf from motion sickness if they sat in the front row. That plus there weren’t that many empty seats together, as we were some of the last fools let in. As if waiting in over an hour in a line that wrapped around the building wasn’t enough to traumatize me.
Okay, it was the day it opened in theaters, so in theory, they didn’t know…
It’s okay. I survived, faced that fear, and became a scuba diver. Only after years of diving in Hawaii and California, I had yet to see a shark bigger than 3 feet. None of which were scary, so I was excited to be finally facing this fear. Everyone knows the Great Barrier Reef is chock full of big ol’ white tip and black tip reef sharks and Gawd knows what other beasties.
A word on Australia — it is the country with the most deadly animals and four of the top 10 deadliest animals in the world. Don’t even ask about the deadly snakes, they rule in that record too. That’s a lot of whopping scary.
Most of the boatload of people on the boat were a boatload of snorkelers. That left the dive master, me, and some other dude to do the scuba diving.
We donned our gear, hopped in, and promptly forgot about the snorkelers. What can I say that hasn’t already been said about the Great Barrier Reef? It’s colorful, magical, huge, amazing, teaming with varied life, and my favorite place I dove to date.
At the bottom, me and John Doe diver #2 dutifully followed the dive master. We circled a reef full of life I had only seen in pictures or videos. Plants, reef, fish — it teamed with life everywhere I looked. I didn’t recognize any of it from my regular stomping grounds. Total complete foreigner.
The dive master stopped and pointed down. I followed his finger to see what he was pointing at. It was all new and amazing to me, so I didn’t know what the hell he was pointing to. I nodded and shrugged. Clear message much?
He moved closer and pointed his finger lower and lower until it hovered 1 inch above a —
HOLY SHIZZLE THAT’S A BIG ASS GIANT CLAM!
I screamed inside. Extra bubbles blasted out my regulator — a no-no in the dive business. I calmed my breathing and got it back under control.
In my defense: 1 — I did not know giant clams still existed. Somehow, I thought they were extinct. 2 — I also did not know giant clams lived on the Great Barrier Reef. 3 — I’m not dull, just not educated in those details. 4 — Back then you couldn't just jump on the internet and make yourself an expert. I didn’t research Australia in the libraries. I winged it as most people did before the internet existed.
I couldn’t believe how big the clam was, but then I was comparing it to clams I had seen in person. And eaten. 1–3-inch clams. So, this sucker was huge! Happiness welled inside me. This sucker must have been 6-inches wide!
The dive master yawned and moved on. Us two bug eyed divers followed.
Yes, nice new fish, more colorful exotic coral. The dive master pointed again. What is he pointing at now? It’s amazing and unique in every direction I look and — HOLY SHITAKE MUSHROOMS! The first clam was FREAKING TINY because this bad boy is a MONSTER!
We’re talking at least 3 crazy ass feet across big, as in Robinson Crusoe sink-too-big, huge.
As I took in the immensity, the dive master did something that shocked me EVEN MORE. He leaned down and pet the damn thing! WTAH? You can do that?
Why would anyone think of doing that? I shuddered thinking about it closing shut on your freaking arm. Diver eaten by Giant Vegetarian Clam-news at 11.
Technically, they’re omnivores, but the animals are tiny plankton, so hardly comparable to a human.
That’s one crazy dive master.
Then I noticed another giant beast sitting next to it! And another next to that! It’s like my eyes adjusted to the details and I could suddenly pick them out of the colorful array blasting my senses.
I studied the clams. Took in the details like a scientist studying art.
Now this is going to sound insanely lame, but I’m old enough to not care anymore. Since I had only seen Giant Clam shells — empty white skeletons, I had never considered what they look like when occupied by the original owner as opposed to say — hands.
First off, the critter filled the whole thing so much that lip looking edges overflowed the rim. Next, their two giant blow holes resembled octopus blow holes, or whatever you call those tubes, breathed in and out in a steady open-and-close rhythm.
The colors shocked me too. I saw different shades of blue, green, and brown as the main color. But add to that, they had tiny dots or lines of contrasting colors. All brilliant. Like brown with tiny orange dots, or blue with thin green lines, or green with tiny yellow dots. Some had purple and all shimmered with iridescence.
On top of all that awesomeness, they looked like underwater velvet. They besotted me without batting an eyelash. I could have studied them for hours, if only enough air…
The dive master pointed to me and then pointed to the giant clam.
Who? Me? I squeaked.
It took me an embarrassing minute to figure out he wanted me to touch the clam like he did.
If it’s good enough for him to do, it’s good enough for me. In slow speed, I reached out, hovered just above the enticing velvet, then lowered my hand and lightly touched the gentle beast.
Quicker than a lightning flash, it SLAMMED shut. I SCREAMED, “AHHHHH,” and flung myself backward. It was all I could do to not spit out my regulator (mouthpiece)!
Do you have any idea how hard it is to bite down on your regulator and scream at the same time?
That takes experience and fortitude. I managed. I might have severed one of the bite pieces, but what about it? You lookin’ at me?
My heart pounded on the walls to be let out. I focused on restoring breathing and calm to my being, as all divers should.
The clam hadn’t shut entirely, only a few inches. But it was a fast few inches that scared the bejesus out of me and one of my nine lives.
I heard a muffle sound through the water. Bubbles burst out of the dive master and squinty eyes peeked out through his mask.
LAUGHING BASTARD!
Oh, ha freaking ha.
After he regained his composure, he pointed to John Doe that it was his turn to pet the beast. To my surprise, John Doe diver #2 reached out and touched someone’s ticklish belly and low and behold — surprise — in lighting speed, it slammed shut two more inches.
John Doe diver #2 SCREAMED, “AHHHHH,” and flung himself backward. It was all he could do to not spit out his regulator (mouthpiece).
The clam hadn’t shut entirely, only a few inches. But it was a fast few inches that scared the bejesus out of him and one of his nine lives.
I heard a muffle sound through the water. Bubbles burst out of the dive masters’ and my regulators. Four squinty eyes peeked out through two masks at John Doe diver #2.
LAUGHING BASTARDS and BASTARDESS’S!
Oh, ha freaking ha.
Then bubbles burst from his regulator, and squinty eyes joined ours for a round of underwater guffaws.
We moved on from the silent gentle giants and saw more weird animals.
The dive master pointed up.
Why up? Everything’s below us.
I obliged and looked up to see — HOLY SHITTAH TREE, what’s all that sparkling stuff flickering above us? I leaned in and squinted.
Silver and see-through — I leaned in closer — what are those?
My eye caught the shape of one — HOLY SHITTAH TREES, those are fish scales! What are they coming fr — -HOLY SHITTIMWOOD (yeah, it’s a real thing, look it up) there’s a HUGE big ass shark thrashing about back and forth — why? — HOLY SHITAKE MUSHROOM ON SHITTAHWOOD-the snorkeling dive master is holding its freaking tail?
This was the 6-foot 5-inch dive master, and the shark was longer than that. And it was brown and kind of skinnier than I thought a big shark would be.
The violence, the body bending in half back and forth at the end of the dive master stole my breath. The dive master was riding rodeo. He leaned back like a cowboy hauling on a lasso wrapped bull by the freaking horns. He dug his heels in and put his weight into it. He bent back so far, he became the capital letter C.
He’s gonna die
How is he going to get out alive? This is my worst nightmare — stay calm, breath slowly counting to ten in, counting to ten out.
I sweated underwater. Literally, figuratively, I did it all.
The lanky shark wrangling cowboy opened his hands. The violent thrashing stopped. The shark straightened out. He languidly swam away like it was your average walk in the park.
Glittering sparkling scales slowed down and dispersed. Beyond them, Walter Keane-eyed snorkelers floated in a semicircle, looking down at the freaking circus rodeo and the three divers down below.
I learned a few things that day. Sharks can’t connect the dots and aren’t into revenge. Giant Clams are filled with giant innards, they are ticklish, and they can move like lightning. And they’re beautiful. Cowboys can be scuba divers and Australians are hardcore cowboys. I’m less scared of sharks because as long as you’re not bleeding or swimming like you’re dying, they don’t care about you. Mostly. Probably. Lastly, facing your fears can take you to wild places and sometimes you might have fun!
This story is in response to the travel prompt call from Lorena Sharing Randomly
Lorena Sharing Randomly also challenged writers to a tag medium friends tagathon relay race to pay it forward.
I’d love to read stories from my medium friends Julia Quay, Shaunta Grimes, Adrienne Grimes, Adrienne Beaumont, Katie Michaelson, Meg Stewart, Juneta Key, Marilyn Flower, Audrey Wells.
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