Dimensions

The sea was the green you see in ads the first time we saw it at Hervey Bay. It was warm, too, sun baked and shallow. By Yeppoon it was brown, stirred up and loose from winds like Kansas. And by Cairns it was gray and cold, a reflection of the clouds. 

When you visit the sea, you must bury your feet in sand. You must stand in the surf to feel the pull. You must read the waves as low or high, natural breaks or manmade angles.

Our biggest adventure was supposed to be snorkeling in the Great Barrier Reef. But our biggest adventure was the nearly two hour boat ride to the Great Barrier Reef. The day before, when we booked the tour, the girl said, "Tomorrow should be just like today (read: sunny, calm, warm), but it will get windy starting Tuesday." The morning of, when we checked in, a different girl said, "Wind is 20-25 knots. It will be choppy." What is a knot or twenty on the sea? Isn't choppy the natural state of open water? She suggested we take ginger tablets. 

Phillip vomited first, into one of the stacked bags on our table. I ignored it, focused on the "one meter waves" bouncing our boat like a carnival ride, like a goddamn pirate ship, like an inconvenience. I breathed out with each sinking. My hands shook as I gripped the table until the breathing wasn't enough, and the heaves and screams of those behind me caught up, and I went, too, into a white coated bag, and then handed it to a lifeguard in plastic gloves whose job on the boat is to protect the interior from puke. I hadn't eaten breakfast. I didn't want lunch. 

When you're seasick, and you get off the boat onto a pontoon, and you're still surrounded by water, and the only land you see are fogged-up mountains far on the horizon, you stay seasick until you get in the sea. Snorkeling is a game you play with yourself. You float on the surface, flap your flippers, and adjust to breathing through your mouth. You see common water around you, you feel common water around you. But you look down and all you see is color, coral, zebra fish just inches from your fingertips, movement in schools, another dimension. Phillip was out there for hours, bobbing in and out of color. He touched a sea turtle. He turned orange coral purple with the brush of his hand. He covered the roped-in geography edge to edge. I lasted maybe thirty minutes, most spent grasping a PVC square for stability in the small swells, unable to adjust to this different way of seeing. 

The way back was smoother. Perhaps because we bought the $3 seasickness medication. Perhaps because we traveled with the wind. Perhaps because we were too tired to notice.