Pacific Grove, California.
The morning sun glimmered above the eastern horizon in a storybook blue sky. Eager to try out a new buoyancy compensator (BCD) to complement my scuba equipment, I entered the chilly tranquil water, put my fins on and kicked out into Monterey Bay. Beams of light created a ballet of rainbows that danced on the rippled sandy sea floor 30 feet below. Kelp fronds swayed back and forth in a gentle rhythm of the sea. The visibility was splendid for the area. I could see sixty feet or more. Details from the surface were plainly visible; the rocks contrasting colorfully with the white quartz sand. After kicking out about 150 yards, I lifted my BCD inflator, pressed one of the buttons and air escaped from the device.
I left the surface world of air and noise to enjoy the serenity in the aquiline waters. Clearing my ears regularly, I pressed another button, filling the rubber bladder with air until I hovered halfway between the bottom and the surface. The balance meant the BCD worked perfectly. A small school of opal-eye fish meandered through the slender brown kelp leave picking at tiny crustaceans and other delicacies.
In the distance a shadow caught my attention. Watching the shadow revealed its identity as a harbor seal. She was about five feet long, her coat silver and highlighted with brown spots. The large brown eyes were expressive and demure. Like most harbor seals, she kept a distance, darting back and forth to watch me then dart out of sight.
Continuing to check my dive gear, my attention became diverted by a flash to my right. The little seal had come within several feet, then with powerful rear flippers, dashed off when she saw that I noticed her. I kept a watch from the corner of my eye, noting that her approach became more daring. Every time she noted that I spied her, she'd streak away, watching me with backward glances. Several times I quickly turned, and she'd speed off, a glint in her gaze, popping tiny bubbles from her mouth, apparently laughing at the game we began.
Effortlessly, she made for the surface, exhaling and taking in a breath all the while keeping diligent watch on me.
Becoming more intrepid, her advance took her within a few feet of me, usually from the side or behind. I'd spin quickly, sending her zipping away, each time not as distant as the last. Twice she came around behind my head, as if trying to hide, but fled as we made eye contact. One time I made a full 360 degree turn mindful of her every move. With strokes of her flippers, she vanished behind a rock outcropping then peeked from behind a long, wide frond of brown lamineria algae. I laughed at the antics of my new friend.
She emerged from her hiding place, approached closer, nibbled on my fins then rushed away as I made playful 'shoo' motions with my gloved hands. The little seal moved directly in front of me about a dozen feet away, changing her body language to face me. Her movements became slow and direct. She moved in a wide arc, then drew nearer with purpose. For a moment, she halted as if contemplating what to do next. With slow motions of her hind flippers, she came closer and closer, her soulful doe brown eyes fixed on mine.
I remained quite still, exhaling gradually and releasing a long stream of bubbles, wishing not to frighten her. She drifted near, reached over and chewed gently on my fin, watching me, then nosed the strap of my knife on my calf, moving up my body. Curious, she paused to gaze at each article of my dive gear. My blue goodie bag, my weightbelt, the front of my BCD. She halted, eye to eye with me.
Her little silver front flippers gently gripped my sides. I gradually extended my arms and touched, then stroked her soft fur. Getting intimately closer, she pushed at my face, I felt her whiskers on my exposed cheeks, and she nudged me on the nose. She graced me with a seal kiss!
For a long and dear moment, we held each other, eyes focused on each other. In the ancient rhythm of the sea we waltzed for a dream-like timeless dance. I could not recall such a magical moment with a wild animal ever before or since. She released me, taking a piece of my heart with her, and did a slow-motion back flip to halt and again gaze into my eyes.
Was this really a seal? Or a Selkie of Irish folklore; a woman in enchanted form?
She approached again, then nipped my arm, the spell broken, her teeth penetrating my neoprene suit, but only touching the skin--seal play. I swatted at her, letting her know that biting was not proper behavior--I didn't even know her name! She spun away from me, and stayed near my side for the rest of the dive. My air supply diminishing, I made for shore with my enchanting escort close by. She glided next to me, rubbing against my arm or leg.
Rising to the surface, I spotted friends on shore who arrived after I began my dive. They pointed at the seal, who broke the surface next to me.
I kicked in, reaching the shallows and the realm of gravity. I stood, pulling off my fins and walking to shore. The amazing realm of the sea remained behind. My gear, weighing nothing underwater, gained its full 70 pounds of tank, weights and gear. The white course sand crunched under my feet as I trudged to dry land.
The little seal followed until the water was knee-deep then stopped, looking at me with the most alluring expression. A combination of unabashed affection and pain at observing her new friend leave. I understand the enchantment of the Selkie. How it pulls with startling intensity.
My friends listened as I shared the tale of our waltz under the sea.
The little seal splashed just off shore, watching as if wanting me to return.
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