How to Get Your Shark-phobic Spouse Swimming With Sharks, or, Vacation in La Jolla - the Socially Accepted Place to Get Hammered

I love swimming with sharks. I know that's a shock given that 2 out of 6 articles on this blog are about swimming with sharks. My husband, however, does not share my enthusiasm. So how do you get him in the water with sharks when you really want to swim with sharks, but it is a non-child filled weekend and you also really want to spend time together? How do you get your shark-shaped cake and eat it too? Easy. Take him to La Jolla.

La Jolla, CA is one of the most highly photographed and high-end places on earth, and it is the only place I have been where it is socially accepted, if not expected, that you get absolutely shit-faced when you visit. You start at Jose's Mexican restaurant near the Cove and work your way down to the ocean, trying not to fall in when you get there. Everything serves liquor with a view - even the art galleries. Why? I suspect it's a lot like Vegas. They want you drunk so you will spend money.

It's a parallel tactic that I used to get Mark, my husband, in the water with leopard sharks on a Kayak, Caving & Snorkel tour. Leopard sharks are harmless but Mark's not a big water guy. He will perform his own personal ballet to avoid seaweed on the beach. He will leave the room if I'm watching Shark Week.

He will not agree to partake in shark tours - while sober. But he will enjoy it once in the water. It's a conundrum. How do we get from beach to lovely time with sharks?

We started at Jose's. It was margarita special night (it's always margarita special night). After 5 bowls of chips, 3 shots of Cuervo and an unknown number of margaritas, I asked him about the shark tour by describing it as a "kayak tour, and I know you've always wanted to do that." He has. Then I showed him the Groupon that offered the tour for $15 when it's normally $85 and that sealed the deal, but, "only if we can go on Sunday. I want to go on a Sunday." I immediately booked the (non-refundable) tickets for next Sunday.


It was Friday night. I was drinking Dr. Pepper.

Saturday was his fantasy football draft so he had no time to think about sharks. When it came up later he'd already been back around the margarita wheel because he drafted at Barfly, a bar-during-the-day and club-at-night 'restaurant' with free internet service. And we focused on the "harmless" part of the leopard shark. It is possible I never mentioned the "5ft long" part. Because if I had mentioned the "5ft long" part, that's all we would have talked about for the next 36 hours.

I also may or may not have left out the seals. Seals are prevalent in San Diego and concentrated in La Jolla, and it is possible the area we were snorkeling in was directly below a seal-viewing area. Seals like caves. It was a caving tour.

Mark likes seals. The seals aren't the problem. The problem is that seals, although sleek and nimble in the water, are the main food source for sharks. Seals and sharks. The two are connected in his subconscious like "peanut butter" and "jelly," or, "Ryan Matthews" and "still a good pick".

On Sunday we left with only enough time to get to the tour shop because I am a girl and girls can take as long as they want to get ready even if we are going straight into the ocean.

If we had left with more time, it's possible we would have wound up at the conveniently located Barfly for liquid courage. This would have lead to a constant stream of statements from Mark about how he is not afraid of sharks, and his constant talk about sharks would no doubt begin to freak out the other Shark Tour patrons.

Plus we'd likely be DQ'd from the Tour. They don't let you sign a liability release when reeking of tequila, and the Tour operators were already cranky because we were using Groupon. They weren't going to be sympathetic. (As a sidenote, if you're going to be cranky when people use your Groupon, then don't offer services on Groupon.)

Parking is tricky by La Jolla Cove, so Mark was off finding a parking spot when the earthquake hit. Which is probably a good thing because I was signing the release forms at the time. The quake was centered in Mexicali and registered in at 5.4. We were thankfully far enough away to only get smallish shakes, but they were big enough to shake the pen as I wrote on the counter. If you're already on edge that is not a comforting sensation. Frankly, it's not a comforting sensation when you're not already on edge, because two other words that go together are "earthquake" and "tsunami." But there were several Tours coming back and we were assured that the water was calm.

Mark arrived and we both changed into the best outfit anyone can wear - a wetsuit. Neoprene sucks in everything. You may have sported a muffin-top on the way into the shop but when you leave for the Tour you will have Halle Berry's curves. I LOVE these things.

One girl tried to be really fashionable and wear only the bottom-half zipped to avoid famers' tan-lines. But, if she'd thought about it, the idea of trying to get the top on while in a tiny kayak in the middle of the ocean probably would have stopped her. The waves rock you, your movement rocks you, and the zipper's in the back so you need help. Her boyfriend was not the helpful type and she had to wait for a guide when it was time to zip up and get in the water. It was shameful. Hopefully karma slapped the boy with some seaweed.

All 10 people on the Tour did our sexy neoprene stroll down to the water, where they handed us the helmets and snorkel gear and we were no longer sexy. They showed us how to paddle. We were in a circle and a few people were unintentionally smacked around but they took it in stride. I like the people that go on these things, they're usually adventurous and slightly nervous so they take a lot in stride.

We pushed our 2-person kayak in the water and Mark immediately began to paddle like someone had slipped crack in his coffee. When I sweetly asked him what the hell he was doing, he said, "I want to keep up." I pointed out that we were spinning in circles and maybe this wasn't the best strategy, but he really wanted to get in a work-out (I'm not kidding). So I dug in and went at it with him.

A few minutes later we were a least 50ft ahead of everyone else and had no idea where we were going, but, hey, we were on the water and getting a work-out - life was good.

We eventually wound up in sync with the Tour and, since only half the participants spoke English, the guides spent a lot of time talking to us. They also spent a lot of time pushing our kayak away from them because we were constantly paddling at them, banging our kayak into theirs as we failed to stop paddling in time to avoid them. But the guides too took it all in stride.

They spent the rest of their time trying to keep the non-English speaking contingent from paddling into dangerous cliffs or drifting into other tours. They were mildly successful.

When it came time to get in the water, we stopped at the Seven Caves and listened to the seals as their barks echoed around and through the rocks and water. And then, in we dove. Hands held, we watched the tall underwater grass move like a field in the wind. Colorful fish flitted in every direction and we split to follow different schools. The leopard sharks were hard to see but they were accounted for and a beauty to watch.


About ten minutes later I felt a hand on my back. Mark was pointing to a seal floating in place about 2 feet away that I somehow hadn't noticed. We stayed like that for awhile. The water and nature and warm contact enveloped us and there was only unspoken joy at the incredible all around.

It was one of the most romantic times either of us have experienced and it was all because he kept his word and faced his fears. He could have backed out. We both knew he could have, and we both knew he wouldn't.

We got back into the kayak fairly easily from the water - I got in a lot easier but I am not 6'3 or 185 lbs. There's a reason gymnasts are tiny. We managed a good rhythm on the way back, and, when we arrived at the off-shore starting point, the guides explained how to ride the waves back into shore without tipping over. They made the tipping over thing sound really dramatic. I suspect it's because they were bored with the whole touring bit by then, and they just wanted to go surf already.

Naturally, we tipped over on the way in (we were the only ones). Mark tried to look at a fish and 185 lbs. tips a kayak easily when it's leaning half-way over the edge. But it was warm at the shore and any excuse to get back in that water was a good one.

The tip was all talk. It was about as undramatic as you can get. After falling into the gently rolling waves, we easily righted the boat while gently pushing it to shore. And then we immediately removed the helmets. I now love kayaking.

And that's how you get a shark-phobic spouse in shark infested water and have an amazing time.