When I was thinking about phobias the other day, one stuck in my head; a common one, the fear of open water- That’s one of the understandable ones of course- I’ve always thought land animals should probably stay on land, just as fishes don’t try to flop around outside of water- Yet, I personally don’t experience fear while sitting in a wobbly little fiberglass shell over fathoms of creature-infested saltwater- That’s probably just another defect in my brain- If specific traumas sometimes create phobias, then I should definitely be thalassophobic, but despite my experiences I’m still not-

My first real oceanic brush with death came when I was almost 12 years old- I was on a “fishing trip” with my recently divorced dad- That’s how he described it to my mother, but it wasn’t really a fishing trip more than a wild booze-infused outing with some of his friends and their dates/girlfriends- Why he wanted me along is still a mystery to me, but we had more of a sibling relationship anyway than a father-son thing-

We had a 750 mile drive from Macon, Georgia to Key West, Florida- We set out on a early March morning in his Jeep Scrambler pickup with his perpetually broke friend Frank riding shotgun, and me in the back- My seat was the cooler-  The chill of the morning wore off quickly- We were all three in direct sun, as there was no top to that Jeep- They had long-billed baseball hats clamped down upon their heads and sunglasses, but my hat kept falling off, so just had my hair blowing around in perpetual motion as we barreled down the interstate- After a while I started getting thirsty, so scooted off the cooler and checked inside for anything that wasn’t beer- There wasn’t anything that wasn’t beer- “Can we stop and get some Cokes or something?” I hollered in the wind- Frank answered, (my dad was deaf in one ear, so literally half deaf) “Have a beer!” I looked at my dad in the rearview mirror for confirmation, but he didn’t seem to have heard Frank either- I had never had a beer, but figured how bad could it be? I was cooking back there and very thirsty- When Frank heard the crack of the pop top he added a rule, “You know if you open it, you have to drink it all! That shit ain’t cheap!” I shrugged my shoulders at him as I took my first sip- It was the worst tasting liquid I had ever allowed into my mouth- The 11 oz task ahead of me suddenly seemed gargantuan- Frank was amused at my look of disgust and laughed, “Drink up!” If the first few sips were bad when the beer was cold, 30 minutes later, the last warm quarter of the can was gag worthy- I held my nose, choked it down, then handed the empty can to Frank with a shutter- He clapped me on the shoulder with one hand as he threw the can out the open top with his other- My dad noticed the exchange, “Don’t be giving him beer! Drink a Coke if you’re thirsty!” he sternly addressed me in the  mirror- I was too nauseated to shout in the noise of the interstate, so just gave him a thumbs up and figured we would rectify the cooler situation at the next gas station-

We made it to Miami that evening and met up with the rest of the fishing trip gang- Everyone sat around the Motel 6 pool, drinking beer and lazily watching me try to do cannonballs- Some teenagers showed up after a while and made fun of my sunglasses, but otherwise I was the only kid in the area- We only had a 4 hour drive the next day so all went to an IHOP for breakfast- Frank was adamantly against this plan as he equivocated the IHOP with the Four Seasons in terms of expense, so pouted out in the Jeep with an Egg McMuffin- Albiet a bit hungover, everyone it was in a jovial mood, especially the girlfriends and dates who were giggling over their pancakes- Every giggle sent my prepubescent self into a blush whether I was being addressed directly or not- I didn’t know how I was going to manage being on a fishing boat for a week in close quarters with all of these nuts, but was excited for the adventure just the same- My dad had described a literal “castle” sitting on an island between Key West and Cuba-

After a sauced up evening in the wild town of Key West, with me trailing along behind the  “adults” with my Polaroid camera, we gathered at the boat docks- My dad knew “Captain Andy” from previous excursions, so knew at which old shrimp boat to drop his duffel bag- The Captain appeared from behind some rigging on the 60 foot boat and secured a gangplank for us to walk over- He was grizzled gray in the hair that poked out from underneath his dirty fisherman’s cap and had 3 days’ worth of stubble- I don’t remember him saying more than a grumble or two of greetings, but reserved a smile for me, the only kid- I was relieved he wasn’t at all similar to the goony folks that were clambering aboard his boat, so I figured he wouldn’t wreck into the dock trying to leave it-

A half hour later, we were puttering out of the harbor, pointed toward the open sea- I found a spot up on the bow and watched the horizon expand in a dark blue line ahead of us- It was breezy, warm, and the smell of the salt air put me into a mildly euphoric state of mind- I could sit there for the rest of the trip and be happy- Soon I heard voices around me and realized most of the others had joined me- They all looked to be in a similar mood to mine, except for Frank, who looked a bit green- “I TOLD you not to sit in the cabin”, a lanky friend of my dad’s, Lamar, told him- “Sit down, and keep your eye on the water in FRONT of us,” he finished, then cracked open a beer-  Frank looked too nauseated to respond, and nodded weakly as he sat down beside me- After a couple hours of traveling with no land in sight, a thin black line began to appear on the horizon ahead of us- I turned around and looked up to the small pilot house and saw Andy there smoking a cigar and handling the ship’s wheel- He was talking to my dad while keeping his eyes facing ahead- My dad saw me and shouted something, smiling and pointing ahead- I turned back to the horizon and the line had now become a solid thin black rectangle that looked to be about as wide as a football field or two- I was entranced as it developed definition and color, eventually showing itself to be that “castle” my dad had described; Fort Jefferson- It was built way out there in the mid 1800s, as the advance post for a defense of the Gulf Coast, and to curb the lingering threats of piracy – It was used as a prison during and after the Civil War, then in 1935, FDR had it spruced up and designated it a National Monument- It was listed on the National Register of Historic Places in 1970, and kept in shape by a coastal division of park rangers-

There wasn’t enough room on the boat for the group of 7 of us to sleep, so we camped in tents on the island- I was gob smacked by the Fort, and had the full run of it to explore as the rest of the group spent the mornings fishing on the boat- The fort even had a dungeon, over which were the words “Whoso entereth here leaveth all hope behind”…, so cool- They’d dock midday for lunch and I’d join them fishing the rest of the day- The drinks would start flowing in the afternoons, so as I concentrated on trying to catch ANYthing, the rest of the group would start to lose interest in fishing, preferring to mix up pina coladas and annoy Andy with their Jimmy Buffet-blasting boombox- There were a couple stints of snorkeling during those first two days, but the water was pretty chilly, so folks opted out when it came back up as an activity option on day three- This was fine by me- I had swum right up to a barracuda my first day in the water, and didn’t want to see that mouthful of teeth again-

There were a dozen or so small fishing vessels and sailboats in the small harbor- Midafternoon on our third day there, a dinghy came up to our boat as we were fishing in sight of the harbor- Andy came down from the pilot house, tied the dinghy to the side of the boat, clambered over, and had a hushed conversation with a couple swarthy guys as they listened to a staticky CB radio- Andy climbed back over, untied the dinghy, waved them off, then gestured for Lamar and my dad to follow him up to the pilot’s house- I went back to fishing as the rest of the group continued slinging back cocktails- A few minutes later, my dad came down and seeing my questioning look, had me follow him through the cabin where Lamar’s girlfriend Beverly was stirring up some sort of salad- We went through the hatch down below where a set of bunks sat empty- My dad sipped at his umbrella-garnished drink and informed me there was a tropical storm south of us- It was forecast to strengthen and move northward- Some of the vessels in the harbor were opting to batten down the hatches and ride it out- A couple of the larger boats had already left for Key West- If we decided to leave for the more secure harbor of Key West, we’d be in danger of the storm catching up with us en route, but it was a risk Andy was willing to take- I was a little flattered my dad was consulting me privately about this, but figured he was just rehearsing his lines before he told the rest of the bunch- They took the news of their vacation being cut in half well enough; they were pretty laid back- Frank though immediately wanted to know if they would be reimbursed for the days missed, although he didn’t pay for his slot anyway, according to the grumbling of my dad- We hustled over to the island for everyone to pack up their camping stuff- It was a little unnerving to see Captain Andy with such sudden motivation- He was a completely different person; out of his pilot house sanctuary, talkative, and constantly on the move, tying things down, and giving me little tasks like checking all over the boat for any loose items, etc-

It was dusk as we left the harbor and pointed the boat North, 70 miles of deep water between us and Key West- The storm, now a hurricane, came upon us as Fort Jefferson faded away behind us along with the sun- The deck was covered, but the rain was coming in sideways, so most of the party moved into the cabin- Everyone was combating their fear of the storm with alcohol and false bravado- The sea that had been glassy calm all week was now starting to heave with ever-expanding waves- Frank was the first to get sick, into the sink, which triggered Lamar to rush outside to do the same- Andy’s voice came over a corner-mounted speaker I had not noticed before, “Getting rough out- Stay cabin side- tie up if you go out,” he paused as we crested a large wave, then started sliding down its other side- “Slow going- stay down, use the intercom-“ He turned the boat, and a pitcher of drinks went off the counter- “Coast Guard knows where we are-“ One of the girlfriends started crying, and Beverly shushed her, pointing toward me- “I’m fine!” I smiled- I was more fascinated by the storm than afraid of it- I had just watched the Marlin Brando version of Mutiny on the Bounty and had loved the storm-at-sea scenes- Now I was actually IN one! We lurched again in the other direction- The only people that weren’t turning green were me and my dad- However, he was slurring, and after nodding off in his chair and almost falling over, he told me to follow him down into the bunk area- We managed to climb into a couple bunks as the boat careened from side to side- I was wide awake, and wondered how he could sleep as the boat tilted back and forth like that- I can’t remember what prompted me, but I started reciting, “Just sit right back and you’ll hear a tale, a tale of a fateful trip that started from this tropic port aboard this tiny ship. The mate was a mighty sailing man, the skipper brave and sure. five passengers set sail that day for a three hour tour. The weather started getting rough, the tiny ship was tossed, If not for the courage of the fearless crew the Minnow would be lost, the minnow would be lost…” I couldn’t remember the rest- I thought my dad was asleep already, but he groggily exclaimed, “Wow Bud! That’s beautiful! What WAS that? Coleridge?” I didn’t have the heart to tell him it was the theme from Gilligan’s Island, so just answered, “um… I think? I memorized it for school…” He had already drifted off, surely dreaming of the Minnow, in the same predicament as us-

 I was awakened by a crash up in the cabin- Someone else was in the bunk with me- I slid out of the bunk, trying not to wake her and noticed the other 3 were occupied- I fell down trying to climb the 3 steps up to the cabin, as we went sideways at an alarming angle- I made it out the door into the now vacant cabin- The drink pitcher was still rolling around on the floor, now accompanied by a few beer cans, some sunglasses, and the contents of the overturned trashcan- Water was creeping in under the door leading out to the deck, so I carefully made my way to the door to survey the situation- I stood in the doorway, aghast at what I saw- We were surrounded by walls of black water, higher than the roof of the deck- Frank, Lamar, and Beverly had tied themselves onto cleats along the edges and were actively throwing up overboard into the wind and rain- The wind had whipped the flags off the pole and there was water everywhere-  The noise from the storm attacking the boat was a cacophony- I was too in awe to be afraid, and held onto the doorframe as the walls of water dropped sideways, spilling into the boat- I felt Andy make a hard right turn, then we were on a hilltop of water and I was looking down its back- He cranked us back left and after a dizzying slide downward, were now at the bottom of the hill- The walls were back around the sides, and I heard Frank groan as he resumed emptying his stomach contents into the storm-  I stood there transfixed as we repeated the hill climbing and sliding over and over again- How long could this continue before those walls of water fell the wrong way onto us? I looked at my watch- It was 3AM- I had no clue if we were making our way toward Key West, or just trying not to capsize or flounder- I had no one to ask out here, so made my way back into the cabin- I remembered the intercom- “Uh, Captain?”, I asked, holding down one of the transmit buttons- I heard my voice come out of the speaker outside, so tried the one next to it- “Seth?”, Andy answered back, “Everyone alright down there?” “10 4 Captain!” I responded, excited that he remembered my name- “Hang in there- stay inside- It’ll be a bit; we’re still a few miles out” “Roger! Over and out!” I said, wondering if trucker lingo was what they used on boats too- I took another long look outside at the majesty of the storm and the landscape it created in the sea- I was sad to leave it for the cabin, but the relief at knowing the Captain was confident made me suddenly exhausted- I slowly  made my way back to my dad’s bunk- I wasn’t about to cuddle up next to someone’s girlfriend-

My next brush with the dangers of the deep came two decades later and was much more direct- I was living in a beach town on the NC coast, and fancied myself a surfer- I wasn’t very good, but was persistent, and could at least stand up and maneuver my way across a wave- I was so gung ho in fact, I went in all sorts of weather, all year round-

It was a stormy Winter morning when I got a call from my surfing friend, David- The sun had barely come up and he had been checking the surf cam down by the pier of the closer beach- “It’s FIRING!”, he informed me- That’s all I needed to hear- I grabbed my wetsuit, boots, gloves, and hood, and went out into the freezing rain to secure my surfboard on top of the car- After suiting up, we stiffly walked out onto the beach with our boards- I was warm in my neoprene, but my face was uncovered, and it was barely 40 degrees- The wind whipped the rain across my face and I could already feel it getting numb as my nose started running- But I was not paying attention to that mild discomfort; I was sizing up the situation in front of us- It was an ugly day and we were the only two on the beach- The storm had whipped up big unruly waves that were breaking hard left toward the pier- They were brownish indicating they were churning up the sandy bottom as they crashed and sucked themselves back out- There was foam from their whitewater crests all over the beach and blowing in the wind, along with any sand that wasn’t wet and weighed down- I was starting to have second thoughts, but David was already trudging toward the water, and I HAD gone to the trouble to get there- It was so windy, my board kept getting caught as I followed- A draft would hit the 9 foot board, and it would smack me in the ribs, knocking the breath out of me on one particular gusty blast-

As we got to the water’s edge, we strapped our 10 foot leashes to our ankles, and waded in- David was ahead of me, and as a big wave broke directly in front of him, he ducked his board headfirst underneath it and popped back out the other side- My board was much longer than his, so that trick wouldn’t work for me- My only method of getting past the breakers was one called “turning turtle”- Right as the wave came upon you, you would flip your board upside down, pointed toward the wave, with you on the underside- Then you’d right yourself back up after the wave passed, leaving you safely behind the break zone- This wasn’t working that day- The waves were breaking sideways more than straight ahead, so I was getting clobbered left every time, stuck in the white water- The water was cold; 50 degrees, so those upside down moments of full submersion were surreal- All I could see was a brownish grey fog of bubbles, and the noise of the chaos above was instantly gone- I’d flip back over, see I was still in front of the waves, then get hit by the wave behind the wave I had just attempted to get past- My head was hurting from the cold and my face was completely numb- I was about to give up and go sit in my warm car, but figured I’d give it one more attempt- The pier was closer than I wanted it to be on my left, about 15 yards away- A big wave loomed ahead of me and I took a deep breath- It sucked up a mass of water from the dissipated wave behind me, doubled in size, and landed on me before I could finish my board flip- I was a rag doll under the water, and my board was ripped from my gloved hands- I spun around, not knowing which way was up, and felt a massive wave directly behind it crash down before I could surface- Again I was pushed down and sideways, and my head was throbbing from the cold- Finally I managed to get my head above water, but no more than just my head- My ankle was being held by my leash, which was wrapped around a pier piling- I looked behind me and saw my surfboard up against this piling, held fast by my leash, so we were both attached to the piling- I barely had the time to realize the situation when another wave crashed down on my head, sending me back under- I desperately tried to get my leash off my ankle, but my gloves were useless in the attempt- I just pawed at it until I ran out of air- I surfaced again, and saw I had lost a few inches, so now could just barely hold my chin out of the water- My upright board was being bashed against the barnacle-encrusted piling and I could see the fiberglass was cracking- I turned around and saw a massive wave heading straight toward me- That would definitely be the last one I figured, and would drive me down to where I couldn’t surface enough to get a breath- I had a quick succession of life images flow through my mind- I thought abstractedly that this was kind of a cool way to die, and wondered about the logistics of the funeral- Then the wave hit- It sent me straight into the pier piling, and I instinctively grabbed at it, shredding my wetsuit on the barnacles- Then I realized how to escape- If I couldn’t take the leash off, I could unwrap my entire body from this piling by circumnavigating it underwater- I made three or four trips around it, while hugging it to keep myself from being swept off by the waves- The fourth trip, as my air was about out, the board came loose, and the taut leash went slack- I came straight up and gasped in as much air as I could before getting walloped by yet another wave- But I was free of the piling, so this wave sent me and my board straight under the pier, to the frothy beach- David was already there, having witnessed my ordeal, and expressed sympathy over my wrecked surfboard- He didn’t know I had come so close to drowning, and didn’t feel the need to update him- I left the board on the beach, and sat in the car with the heat aimed at my head until I could feel my face again- It was glorious-