Yes, many of you thought I’d return with missing limbs — or at least a few digits. But here I am, as intact as ever — physically, if not mentally.
I’ve got some kickass video of my shark dives, but unfortunately my camera made all the files .avi, so if anyone knows how to convert to .mpeg, please share the secret. To see the crappy-ass .avi files, check here:
Aside from many wonderful sharky bits of trivia, I learned that Guadalupe is not a place for young, innocent men of a certain sexual inclination. (“The village has its own laws,” says Mauricio, the PhD student who lives in the lock-less shack on the island’s eastern side.) Also, my introductory scuba instructor was absolutely correct: You can indeed vomit into your regulator. The 20-hour crossing, complete with 14-foot swells, rocked our boat to the point where lunch was, most definitely, on me — and those in the shark cage next to me. During our first day in the washing-machine lurches of the cage, I chummed enough for the whole boat. Luckily, by days 2 and 3, I’d regained my sea legs and my stomach-emptying feats came to an end.