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As a novice snorkeler, I wasn't sure what to wear or take along, so I slipped my swimsuit on under my clothes and packed some makeup, shampoo and underwear. I was going to take a towel too, but Spark thought they'd have them at the bay. Wrong.
It was pretty primitive. The toilets were indoors, but the showers were outside near the stand where you rent equipment.
Hanauma Bay is a protected area, a nature preserve in an old volcanic crater. It's a premier spot to snorkel, plenty of fish and people anxious to see them and perhaps a sea turtle too. Before you can go belly-up on the bay, you're required to watch a film on snorkeling and being a friend to the fishes. Once we did that, we headed down a super-steep hill to the beach.
Spark planted himself on the sand and I booked it for the surf, snorkel gear in hand. I'd watched another guy put on his mask, so I knew how to do that, and the film had offered instruction on the flippers.
It suggested sitting at the water's edge and putting them on. But it didn't cover getting up off your rear end. That's hard on dry land, but with your feet encased in the floppy extensions it was impossible. I felt like a beached whale trying to get out to sea.
I tried turning over to a kneeling position, but that didn't work because the flippers dug into the sand. For the life of me I couldn't figure out how to launch myself, a problem compounded by the embarrassment of being the only snorkeler on the beach with sagging knees and bosom.
Through trial and error, I discovered I could push myself off with my hands and crab-walk into the ocean. I finally got into water deep enough to allow me to flip over onto my stomach and float. And then I was off, like Puff the Magic Dragon, frolicking along the surface, immersed in the wonder of being waterborne.
The experience was amazing. Within seconds I spotted dozens of different kinds of fish feeding on the coral and swimming around me like I was their best friend. I was so proud of myself - scared I was going to rip my body to shreds on the coral, but proud.
Thirty minutes later, I'd had enough of "Sea Hunt" and docked myself on the sand next to Spark, running on about all the underwater wonders I'd witnessed.
"I thought you'd go further out than 10 feet from shore," he said.
"Wet blanket," I countered, heading for the showers, which were ice cold. There were no towels, so I drip-dried using my hand as a squeegee.
A bigger shock awaited me in the bathroom when I reached in my bag and realized I'd left my underwear back at the hotel, which was miles away and the opposite direction of the way we were headed for our tour of the island.
There was nothing left to do but jiggle up the steep hill and buy a souvenir T-shirt to wear over the thin shirt I had on. I liked the new shirt immediately because it's a medium, and because it's pink with white Hawaiian flowers and sea turtles and has Hanauma Bay blazoned on the front.
It doesn't look anything a senior snorkeler would wear. I can't wait to wear it next summer in Missouri - what memories it will awaken.Ê
