Old Men and the Sea

It’s been eight weeks since my wife Linda died after a long illness. We were married twenty years and barely spent more than a few days apart. Our love was—and still is— as vast as the sky and deep as the ocean. Although I’m doing well and stepping out into my new life, every so often I feel overwhelmed and a little sorry for myself. Nothing helps like exercise.

I decide to join Tom Sewell and his friends for a swim at Baldwin Beach on Maui, a few miles from where I live.

Every day of the week, Tom and a few others swim from the cove down to what is known as Baby Beach, a distance of about a mile. I’ve swum with them a few times before, sure that I’d have a heart attack, drown, be swept out to sea, or get smashed on a reef, (all of which nearly happened). And let’s not mention the guy that got bitten by a shark last week on the next beach over. But somehow I survived, and can’t wait to do it again.

Tom, a celebrated artist and photographer, is usually joined by Skeeter Tichnor, a stunningly beautiful wold class Anusara yoga teacher, and Barry Sultanoff, a psychiatrist and author. A fourth person who shows up for the daily swim is Max. Max only has one arm.

Tom filled me in on Max’s story a few weeks ago. Swiss born Max de Rham is a renowned geophysicist and treasure hunter. In 1985 he and his partner Mike Hatcher found the famous Nanking Cargo, hundreds of feet beneath the ocean in the South China Sea. It sold at Christies for over ten million pounds. In 2008, while cruising the Mediterranean on his catamaran the Kanaloa, Max was enjoying a swim when a twin-engine powerboat came roaring by and accidentally ran over him. It severed his right arm, leaving propeller marks down his back, and damaging his brain. After the accident, Max fell into a deep depression. The healing power of the ocean, along with the love of family and friends, rekindled his joy for living.

“I’m glad you could join us,” Tom says, when I meet up with him and Max at the cove. “Today it’s just the three of us. Peter, this is Max.” I reach out to shake Max’s hand, remembering at the last moment that he has no right arm. He gives me a big smile and reaches out his other hand. Together we “suit up,” getting our gear ready for the swim. Tom, who is tall, thin, and always has a twinkle in his eye, wears a full wetsuit, diver’s cap, and mask; Max and I wear board shirts to protect us from the sun. Max is 6’3″ and solidly built, with a weather-worn face from years on the sea. Next to them, with my slight build, freckles and beard, I look like the runt of the litter. Tom picks three leaves off a nearby hao bush to appease the spirits of the ocean, giving one to Max, one to me, and keeping one for himself, which he tucks into his headband.

Before entering the water, we stand side by side on the beach and offer up a prayer. We bow to the ocean, shouting out ahh-hoo together. We then raise our fins over our heads and cry, ahh-hoo, ahh-hoo! We all have big smiles on our faces as we bow to the other three directions: ahh-hoo, ahh-hoo, ahh-hoo! Then, with a rousing cheer to Kanaloa, the Hawaiian God of the Sea, we head down to the water.

Here we are, about to do a one mile swim in rough, open water, which has recently been whipped up by a winter storm. The Tradewinds are still blowing at over 20 mph. Tom and I help Max get his fins on and guide him backwards into the water. We then head out beyond the protection of the cove into the open sea, carried up and down like bobbing corks. I love the wildness of it all and feel totally at home. It’s a leisurely cruise, rather than a race to the finish line. Max constantly gets off course because of his one arm. I turn to look for him, and to my concern, see that he’s heading out towards the horizon. He corrects course and heads back towards us. “You’ll have to get a GPS!” Tom shouts out over the wind and waves. All three of us laugh merrily.

We’re swimming parallel to the beach, being gently helped along by the current. I push back my mask so I can see more clearly. I can make out people walking along the beach about two hundred yards away. In the distance I can make out the towering West Maui mountains and the island of Molokai. What a majestic sight. I can taste the salt water in my mouth and feel the wind on my face. How amazing, I think, the air I’m breathing has blown across thousand miles of ocean. It’s so fresh and sweet! A big wave crests, and saltwater splashes over me with a big roar.

Suddenly I realize Tom and Max are fifty yards ahead. I put my mask back on and swim towards them, looking down into the emerald green depths of the ocean below. The water sparkles and glistens in silver bubbles as my arms rhythmically stroke through the water. My breath makes a hollow-sounding hoo-hah, hoo-hah, as I breathe in and out through the snorkel; the water gurgles as it flows by my ears. I feel as if I’m in another world, floating free, rocked in the arms of mother nature. Where are my problems now? This is pure joy.

Thirty minutes later we approach the end of our swim. I can see the waves crashing on shore. We’re aiming for a narrow channel that will take us to safety behind a reef. If we overshoot, we’ll be smashed up on the reef. It’s difficult to see where the channel is, as waves throw us up and down, breaking over our heads.

I follow Tom towards the shore. He finds the channel, which has a powerful rip current flowing out of it. It’s almost impossible to swim against the fierce current. Even Tom can’t make it, and heads towards shore. It’s my turn, and I head in, watching the surf crashing on the beach, trying to find the opening. On my left I can see the dark shapes of rocks under water; on my right the waves are crashing on the reef. The water is churned up into a froth of light turquoise, vivid blue and foamy white as the water rushes out from the channel. The current and the ebb of the waves keeps pushing me back out. I swim towards the shore, pushing hard with my flippers, but then get pulled out by the next wave receding. Finally I find purchase on the rock-strewn bottom and struggle to get my fins off and out of the water, panting and gasping for air from the effort.

Behind me, Max is struggling to come ashore. The surf tosses him around. Because he only has one good arm, it’s hard for him to remove his fins and stay afloat. I go back in the water and help him get them off. Tom comes in too. We’re waist deep in water when I hear Tom say, “Oh no!” I turn and see a huge set of waves rolling in. We duck under the first wave, but the second one throws us head over heels in towards the shore. Laughing hysterically, Tom and I grab Max by the arm and guide him out of the water.

“You did it Max!” Tom cries out as we come onshore. There are smiles and claps on the back. Three guys in their seventies out having some fun!

Max waves goodbye with his good arm as he walks back to his house near the beach; Tom and I start our walk back along the sand to where we started.

All of a sudden, my problems seem very small.