Journal of Jean Cousteau
February 26, 2010
Hoo-boy, do I have a story to tell you. I went diving with William Stevens III again today, and did he ever pull a boneheaded stunt. But... I'm getting ahead of myself. First, I went shopping.
Early this morning I headed out of the atoll towards civilization to shop for a few necessities, like food that doesn't come in a can, and ran across this interesting scuba supplies store. I ducked in to look around and totally geeked out—they had novelty theme wetsuits. One looked like something you'd wear for a filming of The Creature from the Black Lagoon, complete with monster foot swim fins. The one that got me, though, was a ninja outfit wetsuit I just had to buy. It was still pretty early when I got back to the island and I'd barely slipped into my new gear before William showed up. He wanted to go diving in the Arctic Ocean.
He even had a plane chartered and all ready to fly. Well, sure, why not? I've been to just about every other hemisphere on this job. I grabbed my bag and off we went to the great white North.
As soon as I dove into the frigid water, this Steller sea lion starting mugging for my camera.
And I spotted my favorite seal, the ribbon seal. You've just gotta love those markings. We also saw a pod of narwhals taking turns using a breathing hole in the ice:
Hundreds of years ago the unicorn was believed to be a real animal. I remember reading an account of medieval Europeans trying to reconstruct a narwhal skeleton into the form of this mythical beast. Vikings also took advantage of the belief that unicorn horns could cure poison and sold narwhal tusks to the Europeans for many times their weight in gold. It just goes to show how much trouble you can get into when you're gullible. Speaking of which...
As they say, "now there's a face only a mother could love." This Greenland shark came from out of nowhere. I did my best gunslinger impression with a quick draw of the pulsar and zapped it to calm it down. Then, I pulled out my camera and took this picture before it swam away. I was still snapping photos when who should swim into my view finder... but my client.
He was chasing the shark! I had no idea what he thought he was doing, but before I knew it, he'd grabbed hold of its fin and was trying to ride it like you would a dolphin. The shark was not pleased; it thrashed violently, knocking him for a loop before going after him. I was already swimming towards it as fast as I could and zapped the shark until it gave up and left the area. At that point we were pretty shaken so we surfaced and climbed up on the ice floe.
After I demanded an explanation, William finally came clean and told me a crazy story about his friends taming sharks and riding them. It was incredible nonsense. I totally flipped out, yelling at him about sharks being untameable and dangerous. I could have killed him. I might have overdone it. We stayed on the ice for a while not saying anything. I think he took a picture of the sky at one point, anything to avoid eye contact.
By the time our charter plane landed back in the South Pacific I was actually feeling pretty sorry for him. He was despondent and shame faced for the rest of the trip. Now we're back on the boat, headed for Nine ball Island. You know, it can be heartbreaking to have your dreams dashed, and William's really not a bad guy. Maybe there's something I can do about this after all...
William Stevens III's Journal
February 26, 2010
What a day this was. After my last trip ended in frigid failure, I went back and talked to my buddy Steve again to try to pry more information out of him about his own shark experience. He said that he'd seen the guy while diving off the north coast of Canada. He also wanted to know why I was asking... told me not to do anything stupid. I think he thinks I'm some sort of novice. I've gone diving both on my own and in frigid waters already, come on!
All the same, a partner can be invaluable in a new area, so I got everything together for the dive and went off to see who might be available. I found Jean Cousteau ready and willing, so off we went. She was sporting this crazy new Diving Ninja getup. I love it. I must remember to buy myself one.
Canada was infinitely more interesting than the Antarctic as far as sea life went, which kept Jean happy. She zipped around here and there taking pictures of all sorts of things. And then... then... I saw him. My destiny.
I fumbled for my pulsar to subdue it, but Jean had already spotted him and fired off some quick shots, rendering him as docile as a teddy bear. Grinning widely, I kicked off towards him. Today was the day, oh yes! I grabbed on to his fin and did a little push to try to get him moving.
I must have done something wrong, because the next thing I knew, I'd flipped over and something struck my side, hard. I guess the shark had nailed me with his tail, or something. The force must have made my camera go off; when I had my film developed, I found this shot:
When I finally stopped spinning through the water and my head caught up a few moments after that, I blinked my eyes a few times to see Jean firing her pulsar like a madwoman until the shark calmed down. I envied that shark, because she trained her fiery eyes on me next.
We climbed out of the water and I faced the music. She went on and on about danger and respecting nature and all that. I just didn't know what to say. Steve had made it sound so awesome; I just had to try it. I just didn't know what to do. I looked around helplessly, taking some solace in the beauty of the aurora in the sky.
We flew back and took a boat back to Nineball in continued silence. I stared into the shallow waters of the atoll, watching the now-familiar tropical fish go by. Jean just looked at me for awhile. Suddenly, she stopped the boat and started getting her gear ready. I looked at her questioningly; she just gestured for me to come on and follow her. So I did.
The first thing I saw in those shallow waters made me forget my funk for a split second, making me go "oh!": the huge manatee.
Beyond that guy, though, I just wasn't really sure what she wanted me to come down with her for. I'd seen it all before several times by now.
But then, in the distance, a huge shape came into view. It wasn't the whale I'd seen before; this guy was something totally new.
Jean gestured towards it. I looked questioningly at her. "You want to ride a shark?" she said. "I think this guy right here will be far more accommodating."
"That's no shark," I said.
"No, it absolutely is," she said. "That's a whale shark. It's the largest living fish species. It's not a whale, but it feeds like one. They're actually quite gentle; I've seen this one before. He's very friendly. Go on, grab on—gently—and you can go home and tell your buddy you rode a shark."
I nodded slowly and smiled. I paddled over to the guy slowly ("Gently," reminded Jean) and put my hand on his head. He made a little noise and we started moving. This was better than that original whale, somehow; I felt like I wasn't just there as a passenger, but that we were connecting on some level. It was a great feeling; one I'll always remember.
After I got back, a letter came from Jean in the mail. She enclosed this picture, which is now on my wall:
Thanks, Jean. What a great way to end my—our—adventure.
February 26, 2010
Hoo-boy, do I have a story to tell you. I went diving with William Stevens III again today, and did he ever pull a boneheaded stunt. But... I'm getting ahead of myself. First, I went shopping.
Early this morning I headed out of the atoll towards civilization to shop for a few necessities, like food that doesn't come in a can, and ran across this interesting scuba supplies store. I ducked in to look around and totally geeked out—they had novelty theme wetsuits. One looked like something you'd wear for a filming of The Creature from the Black Lagoon, complete with monster foot swim fins. The one that got me, though, was a ninja outfit wetsuit I just had to buy. It was still pretty early when I got back to the island and I'd barely slipped into my new gear before William showed up. He wanted to go diving in the Arctic Ocean.
He even had a plane chartered and all ready to fly. Well, sure, why not? I've been to just about every other hemisphere on this job. I grabbed my bag and off we went to the great white North.
As soon as I dove into the frigid water, this Steller sea lion starting mugging for my camera.
And I spotted my favorite seal, the ribbon seal. You've just gotta love those markings. We also saw a pod of narwhals taking turns using a breathing hole in the ice:
Hundreds of years ago the unicorn was believed to be a real animal. I remember reading an account of medieval Europeans trying to reconstruct a narwhal skeleton into the form of this mythical beast. Vikings also took advantage of the belief that unicorn horns could cure poison and sold narwhal tusks to the Europeans for many times their weight in gold. It just goes to show how much trouble you can get into when you're gullible. Speaking of which...
As they say, "now there's a face only a mother could love." This Greenland shark came from out of nowhere. I did my best gunslinger impression with a quick draw of the pulsar and zapped it to calm it down. Then, I pulled out my camera and took this picture before it swam away. I was still snapping photos when who should swim into my view finder... but my client.
He was chasing the shark! I had no idea what he thought he was doing, but before I knew it, he'd grabbed hold of its fin and was trying to ride it like you would a dolphin. The shark was not pleased; it thrashed violently, knocking him for a loop before going after him. I was already swimming towards it as fast as I could and zapped the shark until it gave up and left the area. At that point we were pretty shaken so we surfaced and climbed up on the ice floe.
After I demanded an explanation, William finally came clean and told me a crazy story about his friends taming sharks and riding them. It was incredible nonsense. I totally flipped out, yelling at him about sharks being untameable and dangerous. I could have killed him. I might have overdone it. We stayed on the ice for a while not saying anything. I think he took a picture of the sky at one point, anything to avoid eye contact.
By the time our charter plane landed back in the South Pacific I was actually feeling pretty sorry for him. He was despondent and shame faced for the rest of the trip. Now we're back on the boat, headed for Nine ball Island. You know, it can be heartbreaking to have your dreams dashed, and William's really not a bad guy. Maybe there's something I can do about this after all...
William Stevens III's Journal
February 26, 2010
What a day this was. After my last trip ended in frigid failure, I went back and talked to my buddy Steve again to try to pry more information out of him about his own shark experience. He said that he'd seen the guy while diving off the north coast of Canada. He also wanted to know why I was asking... told me not to do anything stupid. I think he thinks I'm some sort of novice. I've gone diving both on my own and in frigid waters already, come on!
All the same, a partner can be invaluable in a new area, so I got everything together for the dive and went off to see who might be available. I found Jean Cousteau ready and willing, so off we went. She was sporting this crazy new Diving Ninja getup. I love it. I must remember to buy myself one.
Canada was infinitely more interesting than the Antarctic as far as sea life went, which kept Jean happy. She zipped around here and there taking pictures of all sorts of things. And then... then... I saw him. My destiny.
I fumbled for my pulsar to subdue it, but Jean had already spotted him and fired off some quick shots, rendering him as docile as a teddy bear. Grinning widely, I kicked off towards him. Today was the day, oh yes! I grabbed on to his fin and did a little push to try to get him moving.
I must have done something wrong, because the next thing I knew, I'd flipped over and something struck my side, hard. I guess the shark had nailed me with his tail, or something. The force must have made my camera go off; when I had my film developed, I found this shot:
When I finally stopped spinning through the water and my head caught up a few moments after that, I blinked my eyes a few times to see Jean firing her pulsar like a madwoman until the shark calmed down. I envied that shark, because she trained her fiery eyes on me next.
We climbed out of the water and I faced the music. She went on and on about danger and respecting nature and all that. I just didn't know what to say. Steve had made it sound so awesome; I just had to try it. I just didn't know what to do. I looked around helplessly, taking some solace in the beauty of the aurora in the sky.
We flew back and took a boat back to Nineball in continued silence. I stared into the shallow waters of the atoll, watching the now-familiar tropical fish go by. Jean just looked at me for awhile. Suddenly, she stopped the boat and started getting her gear ready. I looked at her questioningly; she just gestured for me to come on and follow her. So I did.
The first thing I saw in those shallow waters made me forget my funk for a split second, making me go "oh!": the huge manatee.
Beyond that guy, though, I just wasn't really sure what she wanted me to come down with her for. I'd seen it all before several times by now.
But then, in the distance, a huge shape came into view. It wasn't the whale I'd seen before; this guy was something totally new.
Jean gestured towards it. I looked questioningly at her. "You want to ride a shark?" she said. "I think this guy right here will be far more accommodating."
"That's no shark," I said.
"No, it absolutely is," she said. "That's a whale shark. It's the largest living fish species. It's not a whale, but it feeds like one. They're actually quite gentle; I've seen this one before. He's very friendly. Go on, grab on—gently—and you can go home and tell your buddy you rode a shark."
I nodded slowly and smiled. I paddled over to the guy slowly ("Gently," reminded Jean) and put my hand on his head. He made a little noise and we started moving. This was better than that original whale, somehow; I felt like I wasn't just there as a passenger, but that we were connecting on some level. It was a great feeling; one I'll always remember.
After I got back, a letter came from Jean in the mail. She enclosed this picture, which is now on my wall:
Thanks, Jean. What a great way to end my—our—adventure.