Deep Down, Man's Best Friend

Before my voice changed as a teenager, I used to mimic the dolphin laugh fairly well during and after episodes of Flipper. (Hey, I was an only child so I had to entertain myself somehow.) Flipper was like the Lassie of the sea. Somehow he always knew when trouble was brewing and practically managed to fire a flare gun warning of danger in virtually every episode. If Flipper were alive today, he’d probably be using his own "flip" cell phone to place 911 calls. Maybe Hollywood played a part with some low tech tricks, but nevertheless I was convinced that a pet dolphin would be a solid friend and playpal. But since we didn’t have a pool and a routine delivery of 8 kilograms of fish per day, it never seemed to pan out.


Some of the most enjoyable and memorable moments in life are those that come least expected and with little adieu. Today I experienced one of those moments, I danced with dolphins. Mouth to mouth, hand to flipper, eye to eye with a sea creature, the land equivalent being a combination of a dog’s good nature with an elephant’s native intelligence encased in slick skin made from the finest silk, I was underwater with Pluto, Eddie Murphy, Bim Bim, and three other friendly porpoises for an hour and a half.


Earlier in the morning, I began to wonder if I was jumping through a circus of unnecessary hoops, passing through immigration, as I boarded the Penguin Express, departing Singapore for an unscheduled trip to the island of Batam, Indonesia. A little more than an hour later and I was forking over $10 US to obtain a 7 day visa at the port. The immigration official carefully inspected my US Dollars, twice rejecting the currency tendered, the first time claiming that one of the Five Dollar bills was not clean enough and the second time claiming that the serial number on my ten spot was not acceptable. Fortunately, I had a few ten’s leftover from my ATM visit in Cambodia and was able to produce an approved serial number.

On the other side of the customs control, a mustached man with mirrored sunglasses asked me if I was there for “Dolphin Lodge”, to which I replied affirmatively. We hopped in a waiting Land Cruiser and headed to pick up three other porpoise seekers, a family from Australia, David, Jenny and their 10 year old daughter, Zoe. For forty-five minutes the four of us got acquainted as the Land Cruiser crossed the island to yet another, much smaller waiting “speed” boat, a gratuitous adjective with no correlation to the actual velocity at which the boat traveled. The trip to Batam and the private island situated a twenty nautical minutes from it was looking more like Gilligan’s Island and less like the three hour tour I expected.

But my doubts and fears would be put to rest just minutes after setting foot on the small island of 18 human and 10 dolphin inhabitants. On approach to the island dock, I could see a small bus load of Korean tourists standing on the wood planks peering down into the waters below snapping photos. My hopes of a small intimate meeting with the dolphins was fading, until the spring of hope sprung and I learned that they did not have their swimming suits, and thus, would not be partaking in porpoise pleasure.

Catering to my vacation attention span, the instructions about swimming with the dolphins were completed in less than three minutes. “Don't touch the tail, the blow hole, don't move quickly,” yadda, yadda, yadda, “let's get in the water already.” A release of all liability form was served up for signature, and giving it the old lawyerly review, I glanced only to see where to pen my signature. We suited up and headed down the 100 foot wood plankway on stilts fifteen feet above the water. On approach, chatter erupted from below, as three dolphins looked skyward to inspect the approaching visitors. High pitch tones and guttural clicks were conveniently interpreted as invitations to join them in the salt water below.

With two trainers, the four of us made our way down to a dock as we “oohed” and “awed” at the up close and personal meeting with the creatures from another world, water world. I hopped in as fast as I could hand my camera to the trainer and immediately began reaching out for a connection. And unlike my experience at school dances in the eighth grade, my advances were well received.

Zoe might have been considered the only “official” kid in the water, but submerged with the dolphins, all of us became kids again. It was Cocoon, the Indonesian version. For forty-five minutes, wonderment and magic filled the transoceanic visitors. It was a meeting of two worlds. The dolphins kissed, hugged, rolled over for belly rubs and performed tricks. Gently rubbing the underside of the dolphin, the trainer paused my hand next to the dolphin's right flipper, “Feel his heartbeat?” Indeed I did and I was hooked, line and sinker for these incredible creatures.

Only nets between the open waters and their swim areas kept these rescued dolphins from heading out to sea. For one reason or another, these dolphins would no longer survive in the wild and “Dolphin Lodge” was a refuge created as their “retirement home” to live out the remainder of their years. They were well fed and cared for by a staff of eighteen, whose sole purpose on the island was to tend to their needs and facilitate the visitor's swim program.

Lunch was served after our first session. An hour and a half later, we were back in the water with three different dolphins, this time taking our experience to another level. We started with the usual general frolicking, but then we moved to deeper waters and I was set up in the middle of the swim area on my stomach as everyone else looked on. I had no idea what to expect as I was first, but my guessing was over when two mouths (I call them noses) pointed into the bottoms of my feet and proceeded to propel me to shore. Pluto and Eddie Murphy (their actual names) were both putting their four hundred pounds of pure dolphin flesh to motor me like Superman across the top of the water.
The stunt was repeated three more times with the Australian family as ear to ear smiles crossed their faces. And because we were such a small group, the tricks continued. We were taught to deliver hand signals for flips, dancing, jumping, kissing and hugging. Soon, we were holding the dolphin high bar event as we each took turns holding a bar above our heads as two dolphins shot over us. Next, I found myself in the Olympic ring toss sending multi-colored rings as far away as possible only to have them fetched and “hula hooped” back around their mouths. Finally, it was world cup soccer time as I threw a soccer ball over my head for the old “put it between your flippers” and return trick. Wonder if they could do that with the newspaper?

Today time stopped, at least my perception of its movement. It was one of the few experiences thus far where I've had the hands on opportunity to connect with a creature normally found exclusively in the wild. And there is something incredibly powerful when that connection is forged. For me, it is a greater sense of interconnectedness of all living creatures on the planet. There is no malice, no intent to harm, just unconditional childlike playfulness.

All I could do to communicate was use my touch. Matching their sounds must be next to impossible for the unassisted human vocal chords. But if I could have spoken their language, I would have apologized for man's poor stewardship of the oceans. While today was an amazingly positive experience, in the back of my mind the destruction and disappearance of dolphin habitats and entire dolphin species reared its uncomfortable head.

So I have a brief, but important earth service message, if you eat tuna, please make sure it is “dolphin safe” by reading the label and boycott shops selling shark fins or shark fin soup (Don't worry, WalMart doesn't carry shark fins . . . yet). Maybe it's just the dolphins using the Vulcan mind meld talking through me, or perhaps I swallowed too much salt water, but these steps, while small, lead in the right direction and the long haul starts with baby steps. Whole Foods has a list in stores and several websites discuss all of the endangered fish (some of them on the verge of extinction forever) if you are feeling like Aqua Wo/Man and want to learn more.