Shark Diving

I’m not quite sure why I’m consistently attracted to activities that push the limits. I’m meant to be risk adverse. I mitigate risk for a living. That’s my job. But I think there’s something in the Hester blood that my dad passed down that draws me to the extreme and the exciting. I watched my Dad push the limits on the motocross track and my brother on the BMX track and always tried to keep up with the boys…it must have had a lasting impact on me.


So we willingly allowed a sailor to put us in a cage and dump us into a shark infested ocean. It sounded like a good idea until I saw the first shark circling the boat and I my tummy flipped over. We watched several groups go down and everyone came out alive, so I decided I should get my money’s worth and go for it. I put on the wetsuit, listened to the instructions carefully (for the 6th time because I listened to every group before me…that must be the risk adverse side coming out), and approached the side of the boat. I was the last one to enter and was not looking forward to being submerged in the ice cold Atlantic Ocean. As I sat on the edge of the boat praying and negotiating the jump the sailor yelled, “Shark! Get down!” and I slipped into the cage and under water faster than a speeding bullet. The skipper also mentioned that he could get rid of Joe for me right before I went in. I wasn’t in a jokey mood and must have given him a weird look because he said “OK, I get it, too soon. Come back and see me in a few years.”

This was a small one

As soon as I went under I saw a shark pass a couple feet away and I swear he looked me right in the eye. The next shark came at us with unbelievable speed and hit the cage so hard it jarred to the right and my heart almost jumped right out of my chest. I could see his beady little eyes, his razor sharp teeth and the force of his movement as he charged toward the cage.  It was so surreal. It was even more exhilarating than the lions almost eating us for dinner. The sharks charged us a few more times and then it was time to get out and I was very ready. Getting out was the scariest part because I was sure the shark was going to jump out of the water and bite off my leg off while I was very awkwardly heaving myself back into the boat. My limbs were numb and shaking from the freezing water and I was almost fully reliant on the sailor to pull me in. Not my finest moment. Luckily it was Joe behind me watching the struggle and not a stranger.

Here fishy fishy...

I would be remiss if I did not mention the horrendous young American girls with whom we shared the very long ride on the very small boat. They were unavoidable. These girls are exactly who give Americans a bad name in the international community. They were clearly still drunk from the night before, giggling and hollering while they hurled off the side of the boat, then serenaded the captain, and generally acted like they were the only people on the boat. They were badly modifying popular songs to fit the shark theme, like “don’t stop, shark diving, hold on to that booooaaatt” and singing the same verse over and over and over. At one point they yelled a sexual proposition to a guy on another boat that pulled up to say hello. At the end one of the sailors said to them “Are you American? Only Americans could be as loud as you.” I was embarrassed for our country.