I’ve always loved the ocean ever since I was just 6 years old, when my parents took me to the Bahamas on a snorkeling trip. I was transfixed by the beauty of the shining blue waves, and the wonder of the coral reefs bustling with aquatic life. I was never once afraid while in the ocean, not even when feeding sharks and barracudas by hand. I felt as at peace with them as I did the cooling water that soothed my skin.
But there was this one day…
It was May when we went on another trip to the Bahamas. I was 14 at the time, the age where you start to wise up to the world around you, but still haven’t quite lost your inner child. As such, I was giddy as usual that we were heading to my summertime paradise. I had already convinced myself that when I grew up, I would live in the Bahamas.
After arriving and unpacking, I begged my parents to go snorkeling today instead of waiting. At first they were hesitant because there was a warning of potential bad weather on the horizon, but the skies outside were clear and sunny, and that plus my constant whining made them finally fold and get ready to go. In hindsight, I probably should have listened to them when they told me no.
We headed out later in the afternoon, but we still had a good 3 hours to snorkel before it got dark. I got my gear, threw it on in a hurry and dove into the relaxing waves. That feeling of cold water rushing over you which many people hated was something I cherished each time I got to experience it. It felt like my whole body was being cleansed. We dove on 2 reefs, fed some fish and eels, and I even rode the back of a passing sea turtle.
We still had about an hour and a half before we had to head back, but suddenly our guide signaled for us to return to the boat. When we got back on, he said it was not safe to stay out any longer. When we questioned why, he pointed to the distant sky; dark clouds were gathering, growing larger and larger every minute. I realized this wasn’t because the clouds themselves were growing, but rather because they were getting closer. I suddenly remembered the weather report and mentally slapped myself. Our guide throttled the gas and turned the boat around, but even at the speed we were moving, the clouds were faster. We didn’t make it back to the dock before the storm rolled in.
Here, my memory gets a bit foggy. I think I slammed my head against the side of the boat and suffered a minor concussion because I remember vomiting once, maybe twice, all while I had a massive headache. All I could see was the darkened sky and the rain pouring down on us, and unlike the water it didn’t feel relaxing in the slightest, rather like I was being pelted with ping pong balls moving at 100 MPH. Occasionally the sky was lit up with a brilliant bolt of lightning, followed by an enormous thunder crack. It was like some great god of the sea had woken up on the wrong side of the bed. I held on to whatever I could. At one point I nearly went over the side, but my mom grabbed me just in time. My dad was next to our guide, trying to help him steer through the messy conditions. At one point, a massive wave rocked the boat, and I think that sent my mom into a panic. She grabbed one of the inflatable liferafts and began blowing it up. The guide told us not to worry since we were almost to the dock, but another wave slammed into the boat, and what happened next is still somewhat fuzzy.
The cold feeling of seawater rushed over me, except this time I couldn’t breathe. I realized I had fallen off the boat, and the next second I was gasping for air. I heard my mom screaming my name, and I looked around for the boat but saw nothing. I did see the raft though, it must’ve gotten knocked off the boat like me. Another second and I’m drowning again, the water so dark I can’t even see my hands as I struggle back to the surface. Another second, and suddenly I’m on the raft. I cling to the ropes on its side for dear life, all the while the pounding of rain and thunder fills my ears. I suddenly realized however, that the sounds were getting…quieter? I didn’t understand why, not until I slipped into unconsciousness. I guess the concussion finally took effect.
When I woke up, The skies were calm, a mix of blue and grey on a partly cloudy day. I wasn’t fully myself just yet, so I simply lay there, watching the sky and wondering if I was alive or dead. As I had begun to convince myself this was heaven, a gull flew over me, close enough to peck me. That fully woke me. I sat up to shoo the bird away, but stopped when I saw my surroundings.
Water. Just water.
Everywhere I looked there was only the great sea stretched out before me. I realized that, In an ironic twist of fate, I had become a castaway, trapped away from my family and civilization by what I loved so dearly.
I tried my best not to panic, and admittedly didn’t do a great job. I tried to get my bearings, but that was impossible with no landmarks or noticeable features to go off of. I even tried jumping off the raft to see if I could recognize the seafloor, if maybe I was near a diving spot. Only problem was, there was no seafloor. I was in the open ocean, and the bottom could’ve been a mile below me for all I knew. Out of ideas, I hopped back on the raft and waited. Waited for something, anything to happen. Waited for who knows how long, all the while keenly aware I was getting a rather bad sunburn. I hopped in the water a couple times to cool off, but it was only a temporary solution to a much bigger problem. I knew that I’d last 3 days at best without drinking water, and I had no materials to purify salt water. I was in an aquatic desert, the ultimate form of irony. Eventually my hunger and thirst combined with constant swimming to stave off heat wore me out, and I fell asleep for an unknown amount of time.
It was night when I woke up. A cloudless night, the full moon shone over the calm waves. I looked around again, hoping that maybe I had drifted towards land while asleep, but the horizon was just as empty as it was last time. I hung my head over the boat in defeat, unsure of what I should do next, when a grey shadow passed below me. I jumped back in fright.
Was that..a person?
Maybe it was the castaway madness getting to me but I swear it looked like someone in a grey swimsuit diving below me. I quickly looked over again, but this time saw nothing. I guess I was going nuts. Right when I was about to turn back, I suddenly noticed the shadow again in my peripheral vision. I focused on it, and began to see its outline better. I quickly realized, with a slight skip of my heart, it was not a person. My heart skipped again when another shadow passed. Then another. I realized I was surrounded, but by what?
Sharks. Lots of them.
A school of about 15 Caribbean Reef Sharks and Lemon Sharks had gathered around my raft, likely curious about the bright yellow object floating around in their home. They weren’t attacking, just circling the raft and I, sizing it up. Sharks usually don’t attack people, especially on the shore, but sometimes when a person is by themselves or stuck in open water, they become more confident. I was both of those, and they knew it. They began swimming closer, and started bumping the raft with their snout. I knew if they kept getting closer, one of them would eventually try to bite the boat, and that would leave me completely helpless, not just to the sharks but to the sea as well. Suddenly though, the Sharks scattered. Not like in some slow dramatic way, they were there one second and fleeing in every direction the next. I knew that was a bad sign. The only two things that can spook Sharks are Killer Whales, which don’t live in the bahamas…
…or a bigger Shark.
From seemingly nowhere, a 13 foot long Tiger Shark appeared. It was almost as big as the raft itself. It began to circle, just like the smaller Sharks, but clearly it was much hungrier, and didn’t seem to care that humans aren’t a regular part of its diet plan. It swam right up to the raft’s side, and even peeked out of the water at me. I knew I needed something to fend it off or at least buy me time, but I was defenseless.
Then, it attacked. It lifted its head out of the water and bit the side of the raft, thankfully not deflating it, but getting a rope snagged in its sharp teeth. It began to thrash around, trying to free itself, but came dangerously close to capsizing the raft. I held on desperately, fearing that this might be my final moments, but then something miraculous happened.
A silver figure slammed into the side of the Shark. It managed to push it back and dislodge its teeth from the rope. The Shark recoiled from the hit then turned around, but didn’t attack again. I was confused and looked in the water below me, and was shocked at what I saw. Dolphins! About 6 of them, all grouped around my raft in a defensive circle. I realized they were protecting me from the Shark, who was now keeping its distance. Any time it got too close, a Dolphin would chase it away. This went on for 5-10 minutes before the Tiger Shark gave up, swimming off into the depths in search of an easier meal. I was practically in disbelief. Despite all my years of diving, I had never seen wild Dolphins before. I had heard stories of how they would protect people from predators and save them from drowning, but I never thought I would experience it first hand! The dolphins swam around my raft for another half hour, even letting me touch and hold them. But eventually, they began to lose interest and move away. I hoped they could somehow get me to land, but I guess it was too good to be true. Once again, I fell asleep.
I woke up around noontime (I think, at least) but the sky was not visible. It was a cloudy, overcast day, a good reflection of my spirits at the time. I was just wishing for this nightmare to be over one way or another, but I quickly learned you should be careful what you wish for. A crack of thunder made me jump. As I looked to the horizon, I saw dark clouds brooding. Another storm. That was 10x worse than any Shark. I looked around to find something I could strap down the raft with, only to again realize I was completely empty handed. How did I keep forgetting that? Either way, I knew there was no way I was avoiding the storm. So I grabbed whatever I could off the raft, and held on as the wind, waves and rain picked up again like a recurring bad dream.
Once again, I felt the violence of an angry ocean. The exact same feeling as last time, but now I had no hope of escape. I could only wait for it to blow over, but who knows how long that would take. I held on despite it all, held on to my one friend in all this, the raft. But my stomach dropped as I heard a pop and sharp hiss, realizing the raft had been punctured and was losing air. I tried to keep the hole shut with my hand, but it was hardly any use. I saw a large wave headed towards me, and the next thing I knew I was underwater, at the mercy of a very unhappy sea. I fought for air, but the cold saltwater pulled me down again and again. I grabbed around for the raft, but it was gone, likely sunk to the bottom of the ocean by that point. I’m not sure how long this went on for, how long I thought I was going to die, but eventually it all stopped. Everything. One minute I was fighting for my life, the next minute I was out cold. Dead? Alive? I didn’t even know by that point.
I woke up on the beach, or rather a beach. I didn’t know which beach specifically. All I knew was I was in a world of hurt, emphasized when the first thing I did was cough up a mouthful of saltwater that up until then, had been resting comfortably in my lungs. Slowly I stood up as my senses came back to me, and with each one came a new pain in a different part of my body. I slowly staggered to the nearby forest edge, and leaned against a palm tree for a while. How long I was simply leaning there, recovering from the worst two days of my life, I couldn’t tell you.
What I can tell you is what happened after. I began walking down the beach. And I kept walking, and walking and walking and walking and…well I’m sure you get the picture. It was a really long beach. I almost worried I had washed up on an uninhabited island, and I would have to go full Tom Hanks to survive. Too bad I didn’t have a bloody volleyball to befriend. My only friend in my journeys as a castaway was the raft, who was likely providing shelter to some fish in the dark depths at that moment.
But my sadness for my yellow, inflatable buddy was quickly drowned out by the yells of people. People? I couldn’t believe it for a few seconds. I had once again begun thinking I was making my way to the pearly gates of the afterlife at that point. I mean, if I had just barely survived the ocean, what chance would a skinny, 14 year old girl have at surviving on a deserted island? I looked up to see a group of people, natives to the Bahamas, rushing towards me. Two older women, early 50’s I’d say, scooped me up in their arms and began consoling me. Three younger men, mid 30’s, turned and began running back the way they came. A few minutes later they returned with a homemade stretcher and first aid supplies. I was carried to their village, and practically the whole town came outside to look at me. Children, parents, grandparents, maybe even a few great grandparents. They cleaned out and bandaged my various wounds, then began trying to speak to me. They all spoke English, but I was still so messed up I could only squeeze a few words out.
“Stranded…on the raft…storm…family…where’s my family…”
They understood enough. One of them looked like he had a brilliant idea, then rushed out of the building we were in. He returned only a minute later, now carrying a bright yellow flyer. A few more people looked at it, then looked at me, and realization spread over their faces. One of the two nice old ladies, who had helped me before at the beach, bent down and spoke to me.
“Are you Mary Liz Shepsburg?”
That was my name. My full name!
I excitedly said yes (well, as excitedly as a half comatose 14 year old could) and she showed me the flyer in full. It was a missing poster, with my picture, name, description and my Moms phone number.
Wait. My Moms phone number?
“Do any of you have a phone?” I quickly asked the group. One of them had an Iphone, and handed it to me to make the call. My fingers shook as I delicately pressed the buttons I would normally use only when I had made a big mistake and needed her to help clean up, which happened a little more often than I’d like to admit. As I put the phone to my ear, the ringing tone was replaced by a soft, depressed voice. My Mother sounded like a broken soul.
“Y-Yes? Hello?”
“Hey Mom, I’m alive.”
I could hardly make out any of what she said for the next minute as she was sobbing uncontrollably. The one question she kept asking was “Where?” I got the name of the village from one of the people by my bed, and she said they would be there in 15 minutes.
I’m sure she broke more than a few traffic laws, as she and Dad made it in under 10 minutes. I had never been squeezed so tightly as when my Mom first embraced me, and 2nd place went to my Dad soon after. He followed it up with a pat on the back and a “Good to have you back, sport.” He usually only said that whenever I came home from an angry outburst, and his eyes had the same apologetic look, plus some very manly tears.
I became a celebrity for a short while. News stories, dramatic reenactments, a 40 minute special on the Discovery channel, and I’ve heard talk of a potential film adaptation in a few years. Many people think I hate the ocean now, I’ve even seen it falsely stated online a couple times, but I always make sure to correct those claims. I still love the sea, and likely always will. From the biggest Whale down to the smallest Goby, the sea and me have a rich history together, like two old friends.
And I don’t intend on forgetting that history any time soon.