Courtesy of C. Levin
With Caroline researching her senior honors thesis on women and post-colonial culture in Vietnam, I reflected on who possibly could offer her any first-hand knowledge.
Having just found my old swim fins and mask in a box in the garage, I recalled days on the beach with Eddie, an old friend I haven’t seen in years. We used to dive together. By coincidence, Eddie earlier had lived in Vietnam.
I knew Eddie from my years in Laguna Beach. At first, we’d see each other around town but never really connected. Later, we both sought an escape and the ocean provided just that. Our love of the ocean formed our common bond. It united us.
We both loved the beach but dreaded the crowds on weekends in the summer. Too much noise. Too much chaos. Sounds systems. People screaming. Traffic honking and screeching.
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Diving deep opened the doors to serenity and the fish offered absolutely the best company. They were quiet and stunning to behold. The secret was to enter the world on their terms.
Schools of Garibaldi were everywhere. And they were the most amenable. A brilliant orange in color, they resided in the deep waters immediately off the California coast. This, the state fish of California, being fully protected, made it 100% illegal to catch or even disturb one.
The males are extremely territorial. But they also attend to their young, raising them from the time they hatch. The female is driven off after she lays and spreads her eggs in a nest of flora that her mate carefully prepared. He first rid a large, submerged rock near the coral reef of other inhabitants then evenly trimmed its algae coating to about a centimeter in length.
How soothing and peaceful! I sighed with delight that first time taking a deep breath, sucking it in after diving twenty-odd feet down, with only my mask and fins, to swim among these cheerful colorful creatures. I’d encounter schools of Garibaldi off the Pacific coasts of Mexico and Southern California – in particular, offshore from Laguna.
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Although the Garibaldi were relatively harmless, I always gave each cluster plenty of space. Kept my distance for at least a half-a-dozen dives before moving the slightest bit closer. Great advice Eddie had given me. He’d settled in Laguna because he considered the beaches there almost as beautiful as the ones in Vietnam.
Eddie had served there on active duty in the Navy. Afterwards, he’d even stayed on several years on his own. Don’t know if he’s still alive and, if he is, where on earth he might be living. Not a sign on the web or social media.
Whenever Eddie was present when I dove, he instilled a sense of self-confidence. I felt totally fearless and couldn’t have found anyone calmer, cooler or more collected if I tried.
As a Navy veteran, Eddie was both an exceptionally strong swimmer and an expert in deactivating underwater demolition. Not that we had much need for someone with those latter skills in California. Nevertheless, the guy clearly could take care of himself. What’s more, I was certain should I run into any trouble, he’d be there to help.
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Although we both lived in Laguna, Eddie and I knew little about each other. No mystery. Just never probed. We shared a narrow niche, being casual acquaintances with a couple of mutual friends. Saturdays or Sundays during the summer, we’d run into each other at Woods Cove, our favorite beach. There, we’d sun and schmooze until it got too hot.
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Woods Cove was simply spectacular. A magical, out-of-the-way, place. Down an extended flight of weather-beaten stairs with a peninsula of rock bisecting the mini bay. A bank of tide pools populates the right shore.
It is an absolute must to study the currents before heading into the water. They inevitably break different ways on different days. On some, the cross current pulled swimmers toward the tide pools. On others, it could slam an unsuspecting individual up against the sharp rocks that formed the peninsula.
Most treacherous would be an unpredictable rip tide with its relentless undercurrent. Confronting this would exhaust you regardless how hard you swam. The closer to shore you got the further away you’d be. You simply found yourself being tugged back out to sea.
As a rule, locals always took time to check these conditions. Visitors from inland preferred to take it for granted. Sure, some would be okay. Quite fine. But, at least once a week, someone inexperienced would have to be rescued.
Weather also played its own series of nasty tricks. When one’s pores opened in the heat, a stream of little beads of sweat made their spontaneous exit and sent a clear message. It was time to wade out a way and cool off.
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Time to dive headfirst under the first wave. Always start strong. Take a couple of good strokes, before we turn over to float on our backs. That way would be easiest for each of us to grab our swim fins and slip them on. Once they were in place, we were ready to dive down under the eight-foot, turbo-charged wave, building beneath us. Time was running short as the wave was about to break. We made the refreshing plunge.
Barely going under a few feet, we’d quickly resurface just in time to catch the next one. Getting into the rhythm, we’d plunge under again, again and again.
Finally ready, we head straight down, submerging into a totally other world. The sea always opened my eyes and energized me. Peering through the lens on our face masks, the entire oceanic environment felt surreal. Better than AI, all super bright and clear. The sun’s rays streamed brilliantly through. They illuminated and reflected, adding a sharp dynamic focus to the surrounding flora and fauna.
We stood there suspended as we glided our flippered feet up ever so slightly to tread water as we stared eye-to-eye with nature, beholding the very same world the Garibaldi beheld. Respectful of each other, we stayed clear and gave the other plenty of distance. Just observed and kept our bearings. We also made sure we didn’t drift. Maintaining stationary landmarks to keep our bearings, we made sure we remained on the inland side of the reef.
Eddie and I likewise social distanced, way before social distancing was acceptable and in vogue.
We each came from our own separate worlds. Divorced with a teenage son, Eddie had met his ex-wife in Vietnam, which he swore had the most beautiful beaches in the world. Almost nothing could compare. And yet Laguna reminded him of Vietnam. That was why he had settled in. He’d moved there for his wife, but once in the States, she ended up leaving both him and their son and moving to France.
Earlier on those weekend beach days, Eddie stayed busy with chores around the house until midway through the afternoon. He deserved credit, catching up on everything from laundry to mowing the lawn. Despite the beach time when we hung together, I never did see his house. But, to be honest, I never was really interested. He’d talk about his son and ex-wife same as he did about his chores. I never got the least sense of them as people. Never met either. Never even saw either from a distance.
On the other hand, Eddie never saw the little apartment I had overlooking Pacific Coast Highway and the sea. Nor ever met any of the women I dated. I never met any of his circle. We just shared a magnificent window to this underwater universe unbeknownst to practically everybody who lay there on the beach, soaking up the rays, sunbathing on the sand.
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It was before mobile phones. Still just a single land line to communicate and ask when. Answering machines preceding voice mail. Eddie was part of that world.
He lived on the road Monday to Friday, selling office communication packages to businesses – systems that would be considered relics of the past if any were still around today. He’d pack his son his lunch, drive him to school and be on his way. The submerged land of the Garibaldi would have vanished until the next Saturday afternoon. Or until I would close my eyes once again.
As to Caroline’s Vietnam thesis, my contact wasn’t going to materialize. But no complaints. It simply awakened a few choice memories and created a refreshing diversion. Hardly a bad combination. What’s more, she just made an incredible connection on her own.
About the Article
Sharing an underwater view of the Garibaldi amid the reefs off the coast of Laguna Beach.
