Shark Stories Two

“Shark! Shark! Lorki!” Euart is shouting.

7 Meters below I see 4 fish gleaming in the green water below, they drift after each other in a lazy circle.

“Lorki!” he yells again in Thai. The other boat drivers in the lagoon look up at us, the two precarious figures perched on the cliff. I look up at Euart, my trusty climbing guide, who is perched a couple of meters above me. He is pointing incessantly and with wide eyes. “I dont believe you!” I yell at him, partly because I dont want to believe him, partly because he is a jokester with big smile.

He wasnt smiling. “No. Serious.” He said, continuing his lingering point.

The objects below did not lie, now 5 figures slowly circle in the radiant water. My resting point on the cliff face is a bonzi-esq tree that has managed to grow horizontal from the limestone. It is here, upon my perch, that I start to question the safety of our Deep Water Solo rock climbing trip. As things go, when you forgo the safety of the mass cattle car tours, the ones with the speedboats and all that. On a lagoon sandbar, a few meters away from circling death, the fat white tourists play, next to a speed boat splashed with images of other fat white tourists. Their skin matches the color of the sand.

“Well, we wanted adventure!” I yell at Linzay. She’s standing next to Kinny, our guide, who is donning a snorkel and mask, which Im assuming is only to jump in and see if we are actually dealing with sharks here. I can only smile to myself, and sit back on my little bonze perch. Naturally, this would happen on my very first climb of the day. In my reflection, I realized that I had made it past the massive sea urchins, climbed through the meter or so of razor sharp oyster beds and up to a height that had started to make my hands sweat, all of that only to find a small gang of sharks guarding my only exit off of the jagged limestone wall.

The boat diver pulls on the anchor, moving Kinny in position for his dangerous exploration.  “Not shark!” they yell up, which was good news for the boat load of pale russians. I can see the look on Linzays face from my perch, and I can tell that their conclusion wasn’t enough for Linzay. Linzay only fears sharks as much as she fears jumping from high places. Two factors working against us on this trip.

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