The Kayak Adventure: Part I

It was seven a.m. on a clear, beautiful, Maui morning when my brother, Chris, and I stepped into a kayak for the first time. We had been on vacation for a week, and wanted to end our trip with a water activity that would bring us closer together as siblings. Along with a group of 10 similar vacationing kayak virgins, we pushed off the shores of Makena Landing with no idea of what to expect.

Our guide, Scott, explained the basics of kayaking while we were still on land. Paddle, obviously, don’t rock the boat, and don’t stand up for any reason. Simple rules that we believed we could easily follow.

Beautiful Makena Landing on Maui's west shore. This was our launch point.

It was about 30 minutes after we set off that potential disaster struck. On my left side, a woman named Molly was piloting a single-person kayak. She’s a lively, outgoing girl, and she walked up to Chris and I to introduce herself within moments of arriving on the beach that morning. When I heard her scream beside me, I thought something funny must have happened to her and she was shouting with excitement.

Turning to look in her direction, I saw that a gigantic fin was rubbing up against the side of her kayak. The small craft teetered precariously as Molly looked around wildly in horror. As quickly as it had appeared, the fin was gone, but Molly refused to move.

Arriving at her side moments later, Scott attempted in vain to calm her down. The rest of our group waited hesitantly, eyes searching the rolling water fervently. Then, beside another kayak, the fin emerged again. Scott quickly paddled toward it, and, grabbing his underwater camera, thrust his arm into the depths of the ocean. He pulled it out a moment later, and had taken 20 photographs of what lay beneath our small crafts.

“What is it?” I heard my brother ask nervously behind me as Scott worked the replay button on the camera. He didn’t answer for a moment as he scanned the images on the screen. Then, with an expression that was a cross between excitement and nervousness, he answered.

“Um... well...” he began. “It’s a tiger shark.”

Glances were exchanged all around the group of kayakers. None of us were especially ocean-savvy, but a tiger shark sounded like bad news.

“Is that weird?” Chris asked. “I mean, is that not normal?” Trust him to ask the questions that everyone else was too afraid to utter.

Scott looked up, and smiled. “I’ve never seen one in this part of the ocean before. Dolphins, yes. Whales, sure. Tiger sharks, never.”

“Are they dangerous?” another person asked.

He didn’t have an opportunity to answer, because another shriek was emitted from Molly’s direction. The fin had reappeared, and again it was brushing against the side of her kayak. Scott looked around quickly, saw there was no large boat in the area to offer assistance, and quickly made up his mind.

When we were told to paddle for open ocean, we were five miles off the coast of Maui.
Beautiful, but terrifying.

“Alright,” he said in an authoritative tone. “We’re going to paddle that way.” He pointed towards what looked like an expanse of open ocean. “We’ll keep paddling until the shark is gone. Okay?” Everyone nodded nervously. “Alright, go!”

We took off. Every once in awhile, we could see the shark’s fin poke up above the water around our group, and it was obviously following us. Scott didn’t say anything, but I could tell that he was nervous.

We didn’t find out until later that it was a 15-foot tiger shark, and that tiger sharks have a nasty habit of trying to eat people. The fin was as long as my outstretched arms from fingertip to fingertip, and at least five feet tall. Scott didn’t know if the shark was interested in eating us, specifically, but didn’t want to wait around to find out.

Suddenly, in front of us, four or five sprays of water appeared.

TO BE CONTINUED...