I have an irrational fear of the ocean and of what lies beneath the surface…sharks, deep sea monsters, really icky seaweed that sticks to your legs and whatever else I can dream up while suspended in its salty abyss. I’ve tried to fool myself into thinking it’s more of an overwhelming respect for the sea and its power than a straight up chicken-shit-ness of the unknown. Respect sounds so much cooler than fear, but alas, I am indeed afraid.A few weeks back, I conquered all my fears and set sail on the choppy, shark-infested waters of the San Francisco Bay. A hodge-podge of new friends and old (and a big German Shepard named Hamster) piled aboard a mini sailboat and set off for Angel Island. Yes, I clung tightly to the railing and secretly wished I had a life jacket while pretending to laugh it up with the braver sailors. And yes, we got a wet when the boat got a little more than sideways but watching the sun set over the bay from on top of Angel Island and sailing back in near darkness as the lights came on in the city was worth battling a few irrational fears. And we saw dolphins….so yeah, I’d say it was worth it.
Disclaimer: I want to dive off a boat in the middle of the ocean without the theme song to JAWS thumping through my head or get pommeled in the waves without seeing that head bashing scene from Blue Crush…these shitty movie references probably aren’t helping my case, but ya know, I want to enjoy the ocean. I’m just a lil’ bit of a scaredy-cat at times.