The international symbol for “time to get out of the water…” Photo: Unsplash // Jakob Owens
My hunt for a quality wave was abruptly interrupted one morning in the fall of 2000 when, in my periphery, I noticed some movement about 20-feet outside of me. I thought I was just watching another group of dolphins at first glance. By the time the gliding behemoth moved closer, there was no doubt about what I was witnessing. I’d seen a few sharks while surfing over the years but they were all small and of the harmless variety. Also, none evoked an immediate death-like shrill of terror like this.
The sheer size of this Carcharhinus was easily three-times my length and as wide as my full sized pick-up truck. My first thought was about the safety of my 13-year-old son whom, last I knew, was surfing on the inside. The perfect glide of the shark was interrupted by an ever-so-slight half flick of its enormous caudal fin which boosted the beast with submarine-like propulsion that continued its path toward the shoreline.
When the daunting sea creature reached my 10 o’clock peripheral view, its outline slowly vanished, all just as suddenly as it had entered my sight. That was the exact moment I turned and started paddling in, moving as efficiently and with as little splashing as possible. Expecting the worst with every stroke, I imagined the prehistoric eating machine cutting me in half with a single bite.
Alerting everybody within earshot, I simultaneously scanned the inside for my son. Murmurs from the disbelieving crowd mixed with shouts of “what did that guy just say?” created a disturbance that, as I would soon find out, was causing even casual onlookers along the shoreline to take notice.
After I failed to find my son out of the inside lineup, I next scanned the shoreline, finally recognizing that he was standing safely on the sand. Relieved, it seemed like forever before I was finally picked up by an already broken wave that pushed me to the safety of the beach. Once I reached the sand, I ran straight for the lifeguard on duty. After taking a few deep, thankful breaths, I decided to leave the scene with my son before having to answer any questions. As we walked away, I described every detail of this intense moment to my son, observing his youthful and excitable eyes widen into a cartoonish stare, learning about the massive size of this animal and just how close it was without him realizing until now.
With a sense of relief and humor, he finally said, “I wondered why you didn’t just wait for a good wave to come in on.”
