Feeling the Rain

Wind-generated waves rose up quickly as the storm hit us. I had called my divers early and explained that today would not be a safe nor fun day for diving as the visibility was then five feet and decreasing. Since I wasn’t diving, I used the extra time to walk the beach in the wind and collect Styrofoam, plastic, beer bottles, cans and trash.   

Now, with the storm full fold, I walked towards the beach to take a video of the impressive conditions. Waves were consistently crashing on the shore, the wind was howling and dark thunderclouds threatened rain at any moment. As I was taking a short clip of this craziness, I noticed four black spots in the water. People?! There were scuba divers coming in towards shore on the surface. I found this odd, as they were sinking and disappearing over the crest of every wave. Certainly, it would be more calm to swim in underwater, but perhaps the visibility was reduced to nil.  Quickly, I kicked off my shoes, tucked my phone in a dry location and ran to the beach to see if I could assist the divers' exit from the ocean. In the harsh conditions, they were getting pounded by the waves. The first diver lost his fin in the boiling sandy mess and his expression told me he was just going to let it go – it was more important to get to the safety of the beach. I blindly located his fin and retrieved it for him. The first two divers made it out okay, and the one looked surprised to see me as I handed him his fin. There was no one else on the beach. The tourists had gone in, and the rain was coming down steadily now, blown sideways by the wind.

I could see there was a woman in the group who had yet to make it out. She was getting tossed by the waves and pushed down every time she stood. Luckily, she had kept her regulator in her mouth so she could breathe as the sea churned over and around her. Their dive master was attempting to walk to her through hip high water, but with his fins still on, his progress was slow. Her eyes were huge and she was shaking as I offered to help. Together we each lifted an arm and braced to support her through the last persistent beating waves.

All the while, the scuba instructor for the hotel, Steve, stood above the beach taking a video for his own enjoyment, laughing. He’d rather watch amused and point fun at these people than help them. As I walked up to rinse the sand off he said, “You have too much compassion. I figure if they don’t have the sense to remove their fins, they don’t deserve my help.”

Well, that’s Steve for you.

As I rinsed my feet, he followed me, still talking. “I wasn’t going to help them, it’s too funny to watch. I’m sorry.” He shrugged.

“No,” I told him, “You wouldn’t. And you’re not sorry.”

He agreed but I didn’t look back at him after that.

Instead, I eyed this group’s leader/dive master curiously. Why were they out there? Why would he take a group out in limited visibility and huge waves like this? Enjoyment at that point had gone out the window and their safety had definitely been compromised. What could be more important than guests’ safety? As I watched him lead the group through the hotel grounds with a strange smile on his face, I knew the answer. Money.

Not at all the instructor I strive to be.

I returned for my shoes and as I looked around the beach, not a soul in sight due to the rain, it was cleaner because of my cleanup walks earlier that day and still beautiful. I watched the power of the sea in awe and mused that while Steve stood and laughed, I ran to assist. I suppose that’s what you call making a difference.

And it was only because I had run out to the shore to help these people that I saw them then – amongst the whitecaps, four whales were peeking over the water. At first I thought they were breaching, but they stayed still, somehow holding the top half of their enormous bodies out of the sea, above the waves, just balancing. I looked around me wildly for someone to show, someone to share with, but Steve was long gone and it was just me in the rain. I turned back and studied the whales, squinting in the thick downpour. What could they be doing? While the ocean churned around them, they were perched upright, holding still, faces up to the dark sky, feeling the rain, experiencing the other side.