Sun, Sand, Sharks

October 6, 2001-Speaking in Code

It’s still too cool for us to swim, although it hasn’t deterred the tourists of OZ. In your language it’s 78 degrees. We fought our way north along the sand into a gale. The surf was high and the flags were waving in all the colors of the Australian beach warning signals were meaningful to all but us. We lashed our hats to our heads with dorky chin straps and bent our bodies into the wind. We held the brims with one hand and wiped fine sand granules from our sunglasses with the other. What was to be a leisurely stroll to enjoy scenery turned into a battle against the elements and a shouting match. Between the wind and surf, our most frequently used word became, “What?”

After decoding red and yellow flags between which you could safely swim, blue flags where surfing was permitted, yellow caution flags suggesting that your life should be in order before wading out, and ominous red flags indicating the rip tide areas reserved for the suicidal, we noticed white signs that prohibited dogs.

I pointed out a yellow and orange object floating in the rip area to which David replied, “What?” He thought I was showing him a motorized raft. When I re-directed him, he said, “What?” This went on for a while until our attention was drawn to the sound of a motor being started. The Surf Rescue Squad was making like David Hasselhoff and taking off into the froth in their sexy little power rescue boat. What excitement! We were going to see these heroes in action. Too macho to wear life jackets or sit down in the craft, they bounced through the waves undeterred by sense or safety. They were on duty and nothing was going to keep them from their responsibility. They were headed for the very object I had tried to show David. They arrived at the location, leaned into the sea and were hidden by a wave. When they emerged, I expected to see them loading an exhausted swimmer into the boat. They came up empty-handed, but sped off in another direction. As we watched them zero in on yet another yellow and orange object, we realized we’d been watching the august members of Australia’s finest life savers come to the rescue of two buoys that needed to be repositioned to mark the area where the rip tide had shifted.

When we returned from the hike along the beach and had diligently de-sanded our Teva’s and our feet at the spigots available along the way we couldn’t resist dipping our toes in the pool. So we finally took the plunge. Well maybe it would be more accurate to say we took a baby step. We set foot/feet into our pool.

Exhausted from our adventure, we dragged our sandy bodies into the mall, bought some greeting cards and ice-cream cones, and trudged home. We showered the sand off and I’m washing the clothes we wore. Drains in this part of the country have to be lined with silicon to withstand all the sand going through them. David is napping. We have one hour to be up and perky for a 50th anniversary re-commitment ceremony and party at the Temple.

Later-October 6, 2001-Slight Revision

I found out that those buoys we’d seen off shore were attached to shark nets. I’m telling you they were pretty close in. It was an easy swim out to the nets. I can envision myself diving down and being face to face with a shark with only the net between us. I’m not too keen on that. I guess the nets are really effective. There hasn’t been an attack since they started using them over 30 years ago. Florida is now the shark attack capital of the world.

Toby