FEBRUARY 5, 2010 - SALTWATER THERAPY
3RD IN A SERIES (1, 2)
In the days following the crocodile sighting, I asked others what they had seen and heard. I was hoping to find the primary source - the key witness - so that I may learn where to avoid and how to recognize a crocodile in the water.
Responses ranged.
Yeah, I ‘heard’ that.
Um, if you say so.
I don’t believe it. What crocodile would go into the impact zone?
I mean, how would you even know if you saw a crocodile? They’d just look like logs in the water.
I believe it. Even though I didn’t see it. Wanna know why? ‘Cause it’s happened before.
Crocodiles are not uncommon here. They are known to live at the river mouth – Boca de Nosara – a beach north of Playa Guiones. The argument for why no one has been attacked is that prey is plentiful in the Pacific. Tuna, wahoos, sailfish, dorados. Olive Ridley Turtles bob through the sea on their commute to nearby Playa Ostional, their egg-laying haven. Dolphins will swim pass your boat and in certain months whales breach offshore. Marine life is doing just fine…no need to develop a diet for humans, thankyoupaddlethru.
Dogs, however, get eaten with unsurprising frequency. Residents near Boca de Nosara have gotten used to their backyard pets venturing too close to the water and never returning.
One resident – let’s call him Guy A - had two of his dogs eaten. The first casualty came with the territory. When the second dog disappeared, however, his friend – let’s call him Guy B – became very upset. Pissed off, even. Even though the dog wasn’t his, it was Guy B’s favorite dog! His favorite! Guy B decided he would help friend Guy A by exacting revenge on this crocodile. “I know the cave where he lives,” Guy B said. “I’m going to trap that bastard for you.”
A few days later, Guy B returned to Guy A with the news. “I got him. I trapped him with chicken. Now, the croc’s all yours.”
As you read this, you might be wondering if true friends are the ones that do - or do not - trap dog-eating crocodiles for you.
Well, Guy A couldn’t just leave the crocodile there. So he enlisted a third friend, Guy C, to help him put a bag over the crocodile’s head, throw it into his truck, drive it to a remote riverbed, and set it free. It’ll take the crocodile at least a few days to get home, they reasoned. That should send a message.
Um, indeed.
Meanwhile, I still surfed. The first few sessions back in the water, my mind would drift to that phantom crocodile. In the brief moments it occupied my mind, my chest would tighten and my eyes squint into the water’s depths. The sea was as revealing and illuminating as a Magic 8 ball: Reply hazy. Try again later.
One morning, though, I did see a murky white mass, about a foot long beneath the ocean surface. It one-two-step swam in one direction, then the other, before disappearing entirely.
Despacio, mae! Hay un tiburon, I shouted to my friend, O. Pero es muy pequeno. A calmness passed through me. I had never seen sharks at Guiones – though in truth, I never really looked. Now that I had, however, they suddenly seemed trivial compared to the crocodiles of my mind.
Seguro? O stuck his head in the water like an ostrich. Eyes open, he scanned back and forth. Es negro?
No, es blanco.
5 minutes passed as he paddled back and forth.
I don’t see anything. Beat. Maybe it was a sting ray? Covered in sand?
No, it had to be a nurse or reef shark, I insisted. I recalled how B used to shrug off these sightings in Playa Hermosa de Cobano five hours south. He surfed Ponce Inlet after all. Sharks in Costa Rica were nothing. And now, I could say so, too.
Yesterday evening, I surfed at sunset. I hadn’t thought about sharks or crocodiles in a while. I just watched the waves and kamikaze paddled into them. Caught some, didn’t catch more. Cheered on friends and accidentally stole shared some of their waves. I looked at the horizon, squinting, and realized why H-bomb ordered all those sunglass goggles a few weeks ago.
The sea flat and between sets, I looked down at the water. I tried to stare through the surface again, and – there it was! A white mass dancing directly below. I stayed perfectly still and honed my gaze further.
The greater my concentration, the more elusive it became.
After about five minutes of looking – but not directly – at it, I realized I was following the clouds’ reflections’ as they danced on the water’s uneven surface.
Uggghh!!! I slapped the water.
I am so dumb.
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