The Biter Bit: Revenge of the Bonito

After years of enjoying tuna salad sandwiches, I got my comeuppance. I was on a special trip on the Nautilus Belle Amie that combined three days of snorkeling with baitballs in Magdalena Bay, on the Pacific side of Baja California south, followed by a trip to Socorro Island. It was a dream trip; I had spent a ton of money, and was thrilled when I finally beheld striped marlin, sailfish, dolphins, silky sharks, and sea lions attacking baitballs in Magdalena Bay. But on the last day of snorkeling, nature had another plan for me.

Our panga driver found an astonishing boiling sea of mackerel baitballs being predated upon by sea lions and big schools of striped bonito. My group dropped into the water, mesmerized by the life and death battle -- the water was full of fish scales from the assaults on the baitballs, which swirled and dodged. Though sea lions snacked on the mackerel, it was meaty, fast-swimming, muscular schools of bonito that ruled. These fish, smallish members of the tuna family (10-22 pounds, up to three feet long), attacked the baitballs with overwhelming force, moving like lightning.

One baitball must have seen me as protective cover, and in a second, I was surrounded by mackerel ... and a second later, I was hit by a charging bonito. Thankfully, I had on a thick wetsuit and a hooded vest, protecting my body from the charging predators. In a flash, somehow grabbed my mask and snorkel, hollered loudly, and was helped back to the panga by divemaster José Maria (Chima) Sanchez Perez.

Facial wounds are spectacular bleeders, and I gushed blood. Chima rounded up my fellow snorkelers, and the captain hauled ass back to the Nautilus Belle Amie while I pressed gauze to my mouth and chin. It felt like my lip was severed at the corner of my mouth -- indeed, it was bitten all the way through -- and the bite on my chin hurt like the dickens. After a fast ride over rough water, I was bundled onto the dive deck of the Belle Amie, met by Captain Oscar Ibanez, first mate Yann Chazotier, and staff members Raymundo and Cris. Oscar could see I needed surgery and evacuation, and the staff began a seamless ballet.

They carefully cleaned my wounds, assisted by Sara and Carol Chiu, two physician guests on board. The captain arranged for my transfer to a clinic in San José del Cabo; the crew packed all my dive and personal gear (thank heavens I put my name on everything), and Sara and Carol helped me shower and get ready for the transfer. In 45 minutes, everything was ready, and I was bundled over the side into a fast panga with Chima at my side for an hour's transfer to the shore of Magdalena Bay, where a driver waited with a van, a bag of ice for my face, and a great attitude.

In just under five hours, I was at the We'll Assist clinic in San José del Cabo, where the facial surgeon and anesthesiologist were awaiting me. After the usual paperwork, I got an IV, sedation, and the surgeon, Dr. Carolina Alvarez Alba, did the fine work of re-attaching my lip and suturing my chin wound. I awoke a little later and enjoyed a decent night of sleep at the clinic, where the nursing staff and attending doctor monitored me all night.

One of the key lessons from this experience is the importance of carrying proper diving and travel insurance. Nautilus and Divers Alert Network (DAN) impressed me with their swift and seamless coordination of medical care, from evacuation to surgery. I am waiting to hear about exactly what my DAN insurance will cover and will let you know.

The incident with the bonito also offered an extraordinary firsthand look at predator-prey dynamics in action. The baitballs I observed were small, tightly schooling mackerel; their rapid, swirling movements were a strategy to confuse and evade predators.

I don't think the fish struck me on purpose -- it was simply making a living, and I happened to be there. I was reminded that in the open ocean, humans are clearly outsiders, fragile and alien in a pelagic ecosystem.

I am also grateful for the culture of safety that Nautilus has created. Owner Mike Lever reached out to me, and it was gratifying to relate to him just how impressive his crew was and how safe I felt.

Healing has been kinder than I expected. I've felt little pain, only the odd numbness and itch of tissue and nerves mending themselves. I'm deeply grateful it wasn't worse, and know how fortunate I am. In a few weeks, I'll be back in the water, boarding a liveaboard in Belize to let salt and sunlight finish what the surgeons began. The sea bit me once, but it also gave me back a deeper respect -- and I wouldn't trade that lesson for smooth skin.

Mary E. "Mel" McCombie