Shark Attack!

SHARK ATTACK!

ICELAND 1992

Gylfi Gunnerason shouted, ‘Come on! We are ready! Hop aboard!’

The thought of another day on the water filled me with nausea, dread, fear and horror, but how could I tell Gylfi that after all the time and expense he had sacrificed? I nodded my acknowledgement and boarded.

‘Not going to be sick again are you?’ He roared.

‘I’ll do my level best,’ I told him and decided to have another discreet jab at getting out of this nonsense. ‘Look, Gylfi. We both know it isn’t going to happen. This is the fourth day, and so far, nothing. We can give it up, you know? I’m happy to do some sight seeing, waterfalls and that.’

‘Nonsense!’ He bellowed. ‘I promised you I would help you fulfil your dream, and I will. And when I do you must perform the forfeit!’ He laughed loudly as we sped off to sea.

My dream, as it was then, was to be a marine biologist. A sensible career aspiration when I was twelve, as I assumed I would be researching in the heat of the tropics, or diving down to observe the Great Barrier Reef, but nooooo. My first practical assignment from university was digging up and studying sand from Aberdeen beach. Aber-effing-deen! That was enough for me, and decided on a career change then and there. However, I failed to tell my pen friend of fourteen years of my change of heart.

It was all very exciting back in the 70’s when my primary school promoted a Scandinavian wide PenPal scheme. Me and my best mate Andrew joined up. I laughed my head off when he got a girl from Sweden. A girl? Ha! Ha! Of course Andrew has since visited that girl in Sweden and her and her sisters all walk about the house starkers and think nothing of it, the lucky git. Mind you, I wouldn’t want Gylfi to walk around naked, although his huge beard would probably be enough to protect his dignity. I cursed my luck again at the thought of Andrew’s eyes out on stalks while I was stuck with Gylfi. Why couldn’t I have got the Swedish girl?

We started to hit a few waves at speed and I could see Gylfi at the helm smirking at my discomfort. He slowed the vessel until we where at the whim of the water.

‘Cup of tea?’ He asked.

I answered with a shake of my head.

‘Today is your day, you will see the sea creature of your dreams, I promise!’ He said as he disappeared into the galley.

Thankfully the sea had become calmer, and I felt a little less nauseous. The Sun was low in the sky as it had been throughout my stay. Winter in the UK was bad enough, but it didn’t get light here until after ten am. The sea slowly became very calm, and the colours in the sky reflected on the flat water made for a breathtaking vista. As far as I could see, we were the only vessel in the proximity and the only sound I could hear was the creaking of the boat as it bobbed gently on the water. It really was so very peaceful, and it got me to thinking. If Marine Biology wasn’t for me I had better sort my life out. Not for Dad, not for Mum but for ‘FUUUUUCKING HEEELLL!’ I screamed as a huge Leviathon emerged from the water and splashed down saturating me with salt water.

Gylfi rushed from the galley, ‘Hey! What is happening?’ He boomed as I pointed in the direction of the beast as its tail protruded from the sea. ‘A Humpback! I told you! I told you!’ He enthused laughing all the way.

I started to fumble in my bag.

‘What are you doing?’ Gylfi barked.

‘My camera, I want my camera..’

‘Give me the bag, I’ll take the pictures, you live the moment!’ He ordered.

I turned again and felt fearful as the huge mammal swam underneath the boat. I saw its head, inches from the surface swim under me followed by a body that seemed to go on forever. What if it decided to surface now? We would be capsized. I moved to the other side of the boat and watched as a huge head was rising from the water. I could hear the snapping of my Voightlander and only hoped Gylfi knew how to use it. The whale looked me in the eye and my body tingled as I felt a connection, of what I didn’t know. But I felt it. It then tilted its head slightly and looked it the direction of Gylfi, as if it agreed with me that I shouldn’t trust him with my last ten kodachromes. It then descended, not before covering me in matter from its blowhole. The thought that I maybe harbouring whale snot on my face did not disgust, but humoured me. I laughed as I demanded back the camera from Gylfi. ‘Did you focus, It’s manual focus?’

Gylfi looked back sheepishly, but I couldn’t be angry at him. The man whom I had not long since been cursing for owning a beard and a dingle dangle had just given me the best experience of my life.

‘I told you,’ He said again, ‘and now you must forfeit.’

That night as we drove out of Rekjavik into the bundu I started to feel a little uneasy. ‘Where are we going, Gylfi?’

‘To my Uncle’s place,’ he roared.

‘Why, what is going to happen?’

‘You are going to perform the forfeit, remember our bet? If I succeed in a whale watching trip, you must perform a forfeit,’ he explained smiling the whole time.

‘Yeah, I know, we are going to your Uncle’s. But where? You are scaring me now.’

‘We will do something traditional, ok? Don’t be scared.’

An hour or so later we rocked up at what appeared to be a farm of some sort, but was difficult to tell in the property’s dim lighting. We stepped out of the car and as I looked into the sky cursed this particular luck. No Northern Lights tonight.

‘Gylfi!’ Came the shout of a huge bearded man emerging from the darkness. He couldn’t speak English and greeted me with a nod after Gylfi’s introduction. He beckoned me to what looked like a smokehouse and as we entered the smell was unbearable. ‘What are those? Cod?’ I managed to cough out, motioning to the hanging fish.

‘Shark,’ Came Gylfi’s reply.

The putridness got up my nose and penetrated my entire insides, and I shook my head and left the building. I could hear the laughter in my wake until Gylfi followed me outside.

‘I’m sorry, mate. I cannot go back in there,’ I told him.

‘You must, it is your forfeit. To eat some traditional Icelandic Shark!’

‘I am not eating rotten shark!’ I protested.

‘It is not rotten, it is fermented,’ Gylfi protested in return. Then proceeded to translate to his Uncle who was now also outside. He was holding a few strips of meat and a bottle. Gylfi took the bottle from him and handed it to me. ‘Come. You are in Iceland. Take a little.’ He handed me the bottle. ‘Take some Scnapps, then..’

Gylfi’s Uncle approached with the shark. I snatched the bottle and took a good swig, and grabbed the strip of flesh, chowed it down as quickly as possible, but the smell, the taste. It was like nothing I had experienced before. It felt as if I were being eaten alive by tiny invisible creatures. I took another swig of Scnapps, but to no avail. The shark came back up along with the amazing burger I had consumed earlier in the evening. As I hunched over vomiting and spitting I heard laughter and snapping. I knew that snapping, and turned to see Gylfi holding my Voightlander. As bad as I was feeling, I felt a little sad that the pictures would be underexposed, I’d probably laugh about this one day.

I looked up at Gylfi. ‘Why? Why would you want to attack my senses like that?’

‘I don’t know? Maybe because you are not a girl?’ He laughed, and I joined him.