I was eight years old in the summer of 1975. Sister Golden Hair played on the radio as we drove to the theater in Virginia Beach. I had begged and begged to go with my older siblings to see the movie “Jaws.”  We sat way up front, and I remember spending most of the movie covering my eyes. I had nightmares for years, seeing sharks in every large body of water I went into. They were in the swimming pool during swim team practice, in my dreams each night, and I swore I saw a fin every time we went to the beach.

It’s been weeks since my last blogpost, and I’m still waiting for my new camping gear to arrive. In the meantime, we just got back from our “iso-cation” trip which provided another “wild” story for me to share. Our once-in-a-lifetime family trip out of the country was canceled due to the pandemic, so we opted to rent a beach house. We loaded up our kayaks and headed to Isle of Palms for some off-season beach time. I love the beach. But, forty-eight years later, I’m still afraid to go past my knees unless I’m in clear water. And this is the murky Atlantic…. just like Amity.

One of my favorite things is sitting on the beach with a cup of coffee and watching the sun rise. One of my other favorite things is fishing. Especially in the creeks and inlets with the morning sun bouncing off the water and the smell of the marshes lined with oyster beds. I’ve been going to the same beach for over thirty-two years. Our boys have spent almost every summer digging holes, boogey boarding and now surfing at this wonderful place.

We launched our kayaks from the marina in the morning. Our goal was to paddle the creek all the way up to the inlet.   I’d only kayaked in Georgia lakes and rivers where there are no serious currents, and the largest fish is a large mouth bass.

But the marshes were beautiful that morning. It took us almost two hours to paddle up the creek, most of it against the tide. The sun was shining, the fish were jumping. It was exhausting, and with every turn I kept thinking I would catch a glimpse of the open sea.

The return paddle was like floating down one of those lazy river rides. I was daydreaming of what I’d make for lunch. Pimento cheese with salty Lay’s potato chips. If you put your hand in the water, you could feel the strength of the tide coming in. I was relaxing, watching the fish jump and listening to the sounds of the birds. Still thinking about the pimento cheese sandwich and potato chips.

And there it was.

Glistening, pearly gray, gliding towards me. Surely the fin would be followed by the rounding body of a dolphin, but it wasn’t. It was surreal. And beautiful, as it continued to glide towards me and slowly submerge to pass underneath the kayaks. I’m not sure of the exact words that came out of my mouth. I may have been holding my breath. I know for sure; I paddled quickly towards the side of the marsh and checked my heart rate on my watch. My eight-year-old self replayed scenes from Jaws. Only I couldn’t take my eyes off the screen. As the shark silently glided under the surface, I heard the music from the score playing. Suddenly, my kayak felt very small. After I started breathing again, I hurried to catch up to my husband who was paddling on as if certain death had not just passed underneath us. When asked if he saw “it,” he answered, “Oh yeah, but I didn’t want you to panic and capsize.”

I did have my pimento cheese sandwich with chips and a nice cold soda. I told the kids about my adventure and decided that I was done kayaking for the trip.

And then I went fishing… in that very same the creek.

Long story short, I caught a shark. A beautiful five-foot bull shark. The same type of shark, only smaller, than the one I had just encountered the day before. After a few quick pictures, we (as in the amazing boat captain with me next to him) released this amazing creature back into the water. As I write this, I am happily reminded of Ron Burgundy’s pet shark Doby. In the moment however, I remember thinking that being on a boat was much safer than my kayak. I also made a permanent mental note to never take my paddleboard in that creek. What a dilemma. I love this area. And I love paddling. Can the two coexist?

I did not kayak for a week. I rode my bike, walked on the beach, and ate pimento cheese sandwiches with chips. Life was good. But I was at one of my favorite places and not enjoying something I love. I started thinking about this whole “call to the wild” thing. I was missing out on adventure. “I can do this! It might be really hard and a little scary. But I can do this,” I said to myself.

The day before we packed up, I drove to the marina and put my kayak in the water. It was late morning and beautiful. The fish were jumping, and I could hear the birds in the marsh grass. I have to admit it was the least relaxing paddle of my life. But I did it. I think I spent most of the time scanning the water and looking for fins. They weren’t there, and I was glad. But I did it. I felt relief and a little pride in having gotten back on the proverbial horse. I hope I can take this lesson with me as I take on my call to the wild.

Guess what?  My camping gear just arrived!