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"What we get from adventure is just sheer joy. And joy is, after all, the end of life. We do not live and eat to make money. We eat and make money to be able to enjoy life. That is what life means and what life is for."

… George Leigh Mallory

      That January Henry and Francie delivered once more everything they promised - and more. We all, including their eight and nine year old sons Aaron and Jason, explored the Hawaiian Island chain. Purposely, we tried to seek out specific areas and anchorages related to Captain Cook's expedition. We blended so well with the local population that they shared with us their perspective of Captain Cook, according to their legends. Later when I would experiment with how to approach natives in the South Pacific, it would confirm my childhood vision. It was a total success. We learned that understanding the culture you are trying to work with can make your experience such a rewarding one - one that all the money in the world can't buy.

      The kind of money we were to make by taking Henry's family sailing just boggled our minds. But it was not in the actual money where we received our best value. The true benefit was learning about wealth, being exposed to it and realizing that money is no guarantee of happiness. We discovered that attaining happiness means having to emerge from your comfort zone and doing that what makes you happy. We had three weeks to subtly observe and learn.

      We were a captive audience. What we realized was that Henry and Francie thought more of us than we did. They had more faith in our ability to run the ship than we had in ourselves. It was a very revealing time for us. It soon became obvious that even though they came across as very humble and down to earth, they possessed a financial independence never before witnessed by either Shirley or me. Any little thing that Henry and his family wanted they simply went out and bought. I am not suggesting that the money was spent foolishly. They were very generous spending it on anything they felt we needed to ensure it was on board for the trip. As far as provisions went, there was nothing we didn't purchase.

      When it came to diving gear, Henry wanted to do some scuba diving and spear fishing so we bought two complete sets of dive equipment, one for him and one for myself. Wet suits, lead weights, buoyancy compensators, air tanks, regulators, and spear guns for us and new masks and fins for everyone else. Since Henry was a certified diver and I wasn't, he bought me a complete scuba diving learning system - so I would be ready to write my exam by the end of the three-week charter. Little did I realize those scuba lessons would serve me so well into the future and forever more. It's a sport that not only taught me the art of diving, but also the art of mind and body control.

      I was so excited about this charter. I was more eager to get under way than they were. To heck with all this shopping, I thought. But Henry knew exactly what he wanted and would not depart before we had everything we needed on board. When we finally set sail from Honolulu we had to beat against moderate trade winds, making our passage across the Molokai channel a somewhat rough one. But after that ground was covered, it was a relatively smooth trip to Maui.

      While the mothers and children visited the island and played on the beach, Henry spent time teaching me dive techniques. I didn't realize I was being groomed for some major diving. I eagerly participated, not believing I could have so much fun and get generously paid at the same time.

      Henry must've invested some major time doing his homework before arriving on board because he had a definite idea where we would go and what we would do. Thank God, because I sure didn't!

      Our next adventure would take us to the island of Lanai where there was a large Mormon community. Since Henry and his family were Mormons, they were curious to visit it. The warm reception we received by the local Mormons was impressive. Although we had never met them before, it was like a reunion of old friends. Before we knew it they were giving us a jeep tour of the island, including a visit to a local pineapple farm and factory and then they took us for a special lunch. As a bonus we kept the jeep for the duration of our stay on Lanai.

      Spear fishing was supposed to be good on the north side of the island. Henry heard that the best spear fishing was at night, and wondered if I was interested in such an adventure. Obviously I was too naïve to know what I was getting myself into, otherwise I would have never been so eager. At this stage of the game it all seemed like a fantastic dream coming true.

      Henry suggested we buy a barn-style lantern, one that we could leave on the beach as a reference of where we were while we were diving. It was a good idea. Otherwise the current running along the north shore might carry us away with us not realizing it without a light to guide us back. I certainly wouldn't have thought of it.

      As our jeep slowly descended down the steep rugged dirt trail, we bounced around like popcorn in a frying pan. This place we were going certainly was not your average tourist destination. Descending so long to the rocky beach I briefly wondered if we shouldn't forget about it, as the quarter moon had just disappeared beyond the hill behind us, leaving us in total darkness. Not a soul was around. And not an inkling of light, except in the distance across the channel lights twinkled on Maui. Using the jeep headlights, we put on our dive gear and the excitement of our adventure recharged me with positive enthusiasm.

      I shivered while Henry set up our lantern on the beach. My chest tightened with anticipation as we walked out into the darkness and finally plunged into the black ocean. All of a sudden, I wasn't so keen to wander far from the beach. The only reason I went was because we were descending deeper and not communicating. Since I couldn't get Henry's attention to express my fear, I just followed him. For a while I was hyperventilating, but then realized if I continued like that, I would run out of oxygen way before Henry. That would not be good.

      Calm down. Calm down. I tried to convince myself. Henry turned around and made a thumbs up signal, wanting to know if I was all right. I responded with a thumbs up. Actually I was regaining control. I relaxed as my mind became focused, not on my fear, but on the cool underwater sea life exposed by the brightness of my underwater flashlight. Henry was immediately into it. He got lucky and speared a grouper and couple of other fish I didn't recognize. Then he zeroed in on a lobster.

      I wasn't so capable. In fact it was a sorry sight to see me trying to operate my Hawaiian sling in the darkness of the deep. It took major co-ordination and concentration to point the light at the fish, aim and release the sling, all while fighting the current in an upside down position peering under a coral head. Now I was thankful it was night so Henry couldn't see me miss so badly. I was shocked at how little control I had over my aim - and to see the spear constantly bounce off the coral heads.

      Henry performed much better. He gallantly swung by and stuffed a couple of his fish into my empty net hanging from my weigh belt. Then he pointed up suggesting he wanted to surface. Sure enough, we had quickly drifted westward. Our lantern on shore was barely visible. Wow! It was so dark, without that little twinkle on the beach we wouldn't have had a clue where we were. In fact it was debatable if we could even make out the outline of the island. We decided to dive down again but this time we'd swim against the current along the bottom where it wasn't as strong.

      No sooner did we get there than Henry spotted (what I thought was) an enormous shark swimming sluggishly by. (Later Henry would argue that it was only six to eight feet max.) Henry immediately darted behind a large brain coral-head and you can be sure I was right behind him. We turned our dive lights off. All I could hear was the pounding of my heart and the gurgle of air bubbles when I exhaled. I was terribly frightened in that blackness. All I could envision was that shark suddenly taking a chomp out of us and we'd never even see it coming.

      Henry turned his light back on momentarily. Relieved, we saw the uninterested shark vanishing into the darkness.

      It might have disappeared but in my mind it was right behind me, stalking me, in that dark area where it couldn't be seen. As we swam along the ocean bottom I acted like a suspicious gangster, peering around constantly to check if someone was following. I wished my heart would quit thundering. Surely the noise must be attracting all the predators in the sea. But I was unable to silence it.

      Under a large ledge I finally spotted a sizable prize I thought I could spear. In a hole within a coral head I could see its large tail and body, for some strange reason, pointing deep into the cavern. Normally fish keep their tails to the back of the hole with their heads facing the entrance, keeping an eye on potential predators. I counted my good fortune, cocked the sling as tight as I could and came as close to the fish's body as possible to ensure I wouldn't miss. Finally I released the spear. It penetrated my target dead on.

      Unexpectedly, a hard tug on the spear pulled me forward making me slam my face against the coral head. My feet floated upward and I was rendered totally off balance. Before I could react my legs were up high with my head hanging down. Whatever was at the end of my spear was big and determined to pull me into that hole with it. With both hands I hung onto the spear not wanting to let this one get away. Or was it that I was so stunned by the fish's strength that I didn't know what the best thing was to do?

      Visibility was a problem. My kicking had stirred the sand up making the water cloudy. On top of that I had lost control of my dive light. It was now dangling by its strap around my wrist, flashing every which way as the fish yanked me about, making it impossible to see a thing. While I was trying to regain my balance and get my feet on the bottom again, my bare legs scratched over fire coral, burning them like hot coals. The only thing making this tolerable was the realization that the big one hadn't gotten away yet.

      Obviously annoyed, the fish tugged at my spear, as if it were a big dog trying to yank a stick out of my hand. Now with my fins back on the bottom I was regaining control. My face and knees were still leverage points but at least now I had control with a full grip on the spear. By now I had the flashlight wedged against the coral head using my leg. The light shone to the left. My hands were deep in the hole grasping the spear. But through the cloudy water I could see there was a big commotion to the left of me.

      For the longest time I didn't realize what was happening until I made out the gruesome image. Only inches from my left arm, was a set of giant jaws trying desperately to chomp off my arm. Suddenly I figured it out. The action of the ominous head on my left corresponded with the tugs of my spear. Those threatening jaws were connected to the tail my spear was imbedded in.

      Frozen with fear I realized that I had speared a huge moray eel that had been resting in a two-ended hole. My fear amplified. Just a couple days ago in a tropical fish book Henry had bought for the ship I read all about moray eels - about how they hunt from their holes, attacking their prey, including unsuspecting divers. They lock them in their jaws like pit bulls, until their victims finally drown or bleed to death. Not a nice way to go!

      Now I was in the predicament that if I gave an inch, those chomping jaws would be just that much closer to my arm. With all my might I yanked on the spear and gained some ground, enough to be able to look around to see where Henry was.

      Consumed with his own pursuit, for a long time, Henry wasn't aware that I had fallen behind. But now I could see him in the distance coming toward me. Now I was reluctant to pull too hard as I envisioned the spear ripping loose and having this large sea creature rush me. By the time he arrived I was exhausted from holding my ground.

      Quickly Henry assessed the situation and realized my predicament. He sent a clean shot through the eel's neck. Using his fins he pinned its head against the sand. He quickly pulled out his diving knife strapped to his leg, and punctured the creature's head. Finally I let go of my spear.

      Adrenaline rushed through my body as I watched Henry drag the lifeless eel out of the hole, from the other end, with my spear still imbedded in its tail. It looked like a large snake. Henry barely managed to stuff it into his dive bag. He was visibly delighted with our catch. Then I remembered he had mentioned before that he wanted to catch an eel and either smoke or barbecue it. I guess smoked eel was a prized delicacy in his mind and this was one of his dreams coming true.

      As for me, all I knew was even though this whole experience was terribly exciting, I wished I had never seen that tail tucked in the coral head. My body trembled and shook uncontrollably from both fear and relief. I was so fortunate the darkness blanketed my fear. I didn't want Henry to see me that way.

      Henry pointed toward the beach and like a football coach, indicated a time out. With delight I nodded in agreement. I followed him and could see fish blood streaming out of his dive bag which now made me worry about the shark we saw earlier. Clenching my teeth in anticipation, I followed slightly behind and about ten feet left of Henry. It was that diver's net - full of fish that worried me. Even though I was not an experienced diver I had a notion that it was not the cleverest thing to have, a dive net full of bleeding fish strapped to your waist. Nervously, I kept looking back to see if anything was following the scent of blood. Henry confidently pushed on. It was his confident behavior that slowly revived my shaky nervousness.

      A large brain coral formation was ahead of us. Henry, who was now 10 to 15 feet to the right of me and as much ahead, decided to swim around it, whereas I decided to ascend about a dozen feet to go over it. The beauty and the colors of this particular coral head mesmerized me as I glided up its wall. As I crested it the worst of my nightmares came true.

      Without warning, out of the darkness a powerful beast charged me from the opposite side of the coral head, knocking me over backwards. In shock, I let out the loudest scream of fear the sea has ever heard. I was in such shock from the shock itself - unable to even feel the pain from a bite or any other injury. I kicked and shoved trying to repel the attacker, but to no avail. It just kept coming at me, forcing me down toward the bottom. I was unable to see the large predator because I had lost control of my flashlight when it was knocked out of my hand. Now it was dangling from the strap around my wrist and shining every which way as I got knocked around.

      I tried to inhale a breath of air, only to realize that in my panic-stricken scream, without even realizing it, I blew the regulator right out of my mouth. A rush of water surged into my lungs. I started choking and gagging. In the darkness, with my right hand I frantically tried to find the regulator that was somewhere behind me, while I used my left hand to shove the aggressive attacker away.

      It didn't seem to matter how hard I struggled and tried to escape. It was viciously on top of me every step of the way. Blindly I grabbed for the regulator. Oh no. I felt my spear slip off my right arm. I cursed at my carelessness That spear was my only hope for survival against the invader. Suddenly the oxygen tank on my back slammed against the bottom of the ocean. Now I was helpless. The beast had me pinned down.

      As I continued to struggle in the black water, the regulator slapped into the palm of my right hand, just as if somebody shoved it there. Quickly I stuck it into my mouth and even though I swallowed and choked on some salt water, I managed to regain some form of breathing. I was puzzled by the fact that I could not feel any pain. I must be bitten somewhere. But then I remembered. I heard surfers say that you don't feel the pain of a shark attack. Your body goes into shock.

      Now with both my hands free to fight, I grabbed my assailant and tried to shove it off me. To my surprise whatever I was fighting did not resemble what I thought a shark would feel like. Then I realized that nothing had bit me - yet. With all my might I shoved the creature away but immediately it came charging back to my left side. With my arm now pinned to the ocean floor, the flashlight shone upward. Finally the identity of my attacker was revealed. It was not a shark that I had so vividly visualized in my mind attacking me, but a giant sea turtle!

      With some relief I frantically tried to wiggle my way out. As I slithered along the bottom creating a huge cloud of soot, I started to realize that the giant turtle was more attracted to where the light was shining than where I was. Bingo I thought as I scrambled for control of the flashlight. Immediately I turned it off. That same instant the onslaught ended. For a couple more seconds I lay there motionless and listened to the deafening thumps of my heartbeat. I turned the light back on again and quickly scanned around. Off in the distance I saw the confused turtle hastily disappearing into the deep darkness.

      There was no sign of Henry anywhere so I assumed he was waiting for me on the other side of the coral head. Still frightened and confused, I searched for my Hawaiian spear. I wanted to have it in my hand, triggered and ready to go. Once I found it I dashed in the direction of the coral head, this time circling around it. Henry wasn't there. Where was he? Hyperventilating, I kicked hard and continued the way I guessed he might've gone. With my eyes bulging from the strain of searching in the dark infinity, it seemed like forever before I finally saw his flashlight shining way ahead of me.

      In my eagerness to catch up to Henry, I didn't care how loud my heart was beating, how fast I was breathing, how much air I was using, or how many sharks might be chasing me. I was fixated on the tiny light way off in the distance. Finally I was about forty feet behind him when he stopped, turned around and waited for me to catch up. Of course he could not actually see me. All he could see was my light. He stuck his hand out and made a diver's Is everything OK? signal with his fingers. Realizing that he didn't have a clue about what had just transpired over the last few minutes, I shone my light on my fingers and showed the OK sign.

      My nerves slowly settled down as Henry started to lead the way back toward the beach. I felt so relieved that I actually relieved myself in the water. Henry was still lugging along his catch bag, which dragged along the bottom weighing him down.

      Thank God, I thought, he didn't see me panic and fumble in my moments of adversity. Just as I started to relax, I noticed that I had to inhale harder than usual in order to draw more air out of my regulator. Not realizing what the problem might be, I checked to see if the air hose was kinked. It seemed to be straight so I tried to clear the regulator, reaching over my shoulder to open the valve on the tank some more. But it was already open all the way.

      My mind raced. I remembered Henry teaching me to look often at my air pressure gauge to ensure I didn't run out of air. Sure enough I checked it. It wasn't at the empty mark - but below it. My heart jumped, beating wildly. Now aware of my predicament, when I tried to draw a breath of air, my lungs felt like they were going into spasms and I wanted to suck in even more air. The air regulator made a clacking sound each time I tried to take a breath. Finally there was no more air. What now? I thought.

      Luckily, in my panic, my mind still managed to register on Henry's warning, "If you run into trouble and you have to get to the surface, never ascend fast or with your lungs full of air. If you hold your breath on your way up, the air in your lungs will expand and your lungs will explode. If you're having any problems, alert your partner."

      Like heck, how am I to do that? I wondered. He's ahead of me now and I don't have enough air to breathe, never mind catching up to him.

      So I closed my eyes, exhaled the little air I had in my lungs and slowly started to kick with my fins upward. The 50-foot ascent seemed never ending. I didn't know what was going to happen first, if my lungs were going to implode or if I was going to pass out. Finally I broke the surface. Still clenching the air regulator firmly between my teeth, I spit it out, gasped in fresh air and flooded my lungs with fresh oxygen.

      To my amazement I could see our lantern on the shore straight ahead of me, barely 250 feet. As soon as my breathing became regular, I made a beeline for shore. I just wanted to get out of this death trap. I kicked my exhausted legs with all my might.

      Suddenly Henry surfaced in front of me. We struggled to walk out of the water toward the lantern as if we had been together all along. I'm sure running out of air was a big no-no so I didn't even mention it. Henry was preoccupied anyway, obviously delighted with our catch, as he rattled on about how he couldn't wait to show it to his Mormon friends on the island.

      Back on the beach we turned on the jeep's headlights to examine our catch. The eel's colors illuminated in the light. I was shocked how much smaller it looked out of the water, even though it was big enough to drive shivers through my body at the thought that I dared to spear the beast.

      In his kind and humble way Henry was so proud of my only catch that he couldn't stop talking about it while we bounced around in the jeep as we climbed up the steep embankment. My mind drifted - recalling the events of the past few hours. Just thinking about it made my body shake and tremble involuntarily. I was thankful that Henry was talking and the jeep was rocking so that he wouldn't notice. Henry continued to plan out loud our future night diving endeavors. What he didn't know was that while he was talking, my mind was all ready orchestrating ways to ensure that we would never go on a night dive again.

      The next day, whatever Henry must've said at his church service about our diving efforts impressed a lot of people. In his enthusiasm he invited a few new-found friends over after church for a little afternoon barbecue of fish, lobster and eel. Well it seemed like the whole island showed up. They brought food and drinks of their own but the highlight was definitely our barbecued eel.

      Hawaiians love eel. It is their praised delicacy and apparently not many dare to spear it, hence the reason they fussed over me a great deal. My spirits soared to unprecedented heights as they called me Captain Courageous and treated me with a high level of respect. I'd never experienced that kind of treatment before so I felt very uncomfortable. Especially remembering that it was not my courage that helped me catch the eel but my lack of knowledge and inexperience. Little did they know I wouldn't have gone near that eel with a 10-foot pole if I had known what it was. If they only knew how scared I was, I thought. But for now, I decided just to take it in and enjoy the party.

      The native Hawaiians showed us how to clean the fish and skin the eel. I watched them enjoy every morsel of eel as it came off the barbecue. Being adventurous eaters, both Shirley and I were anxious to try it. It wasn't bad, tasting somewhat like chicken, but our mouths were full of tiny bones. It took forever to pick them out before you could swallow. That task seemed impossible so eventually we spit it all out. Amazingly, we watched the locals smack their lips eating the bones and all.

      The party stretched well into the night and the sound of the ukuleles and guitars could be heard echoing through Manelle Bay well after we retired. The next morning it was hard to say goodbye. The locals returned in droves bearing gifts. By the time we sailed out of the harbor, Nausikaa was laden with papaya, breadfruit, macadamia nuts and countless pineapples. We were off to experience our next adventure.

      January can be a tough month for sailing in Hawaii. Strong NE trade winds batter the islands for days at a time forcing small boats to be stuck in the marinas. Kona storms, thundering from the south, pound the usually protected lee side of the islands. Our crusty old sailor friend, Dave Silvey warned me before we left the Hawaii Yacht Club to keep a close lookout for those storms, as they were known to instantly appear. We had been lucky. There was nothing to worry about as super gentle trade winds propelled us from anchorage to anchorage and from island to island.

      Clear blue skies complemented by the brilliant Hawaiian sunshine welcomed us as we dropped anchor near the Captain Cook monument on the big island of Hawaii. The sea was so calm that it mirrored images of the elegant palm trees scattered along the shoreline.

      It was an emotional time for me. I had mixed feelings. I was excited to finally be here and yet I was sad. In my mind, this was what my dream to go on this expedition was all about. It was the vision of what happened in this historic place that propelled me to undertake our voyage, exposing us to the unknown. I wanted to be here more so than anywhere else in the world - the place where my hero fought the last battle of his dream. Now a monument that commemorated that occasion was on shore directly on front of us.

      I knew that my thoughts were impractical but I could visualize the Endeavor anchored right next to me, a dozen sailors rowing a large dory toward shore. Captain Cook stood in the middle with his hands crossed over his chest. I could see the natives on shore waiting anxiously and waving as if trying to welcome the seafarers into their paradise. And finally now I was here - in that paradise. I felt like a sponge absorbing nourishment for my soul.

      Over the years, Henry and Francie would return time and time again to join us in our adventures as we sailed the oceans. In the process we learned much about their Mormon faith, their high standards of spiritual and family values, and about life from their perspective. They truly enriched our lives, as I'm sure we did theirs.

      Meeting Francie and Henry opened doors for us. They would be our passport to continue to live our dream, changing our lives forever.