In the heart of the Tuamotus, I jumped into shark-infested waters—and found awe, peace and the power to face my deepest fear.

The outgoing tide shot us through the narrow pass at 10 knots, spitting our C&C 43 into the beatific blue of the South Pacific. We’d just spent a few days anchored inside the tiny atoll of Kauehi, 100 miles northeast of Tahiti in French Polynesia’s Tuamotus archipelago, to recover from a five-day passage from the Marquesas Islands. We were heading to a bigger atoll to replenish provisions.

But first, my husband, Rob, and I had a request of our captain: Let us jump overboard.

He thought we were nuts. There were no boats in sight. No people for miles. Just the endless expanse of the Pacific ahead and 3,000 feet of water under our keel.

Plus, one of the biggest feeding frenzies on Earth was about to begin.

Hundreds of sharks congregate each June in the Tuamotus’ passes to prey on the thousands of grouper that arrive to spawn on the reefs. Under a full moon near the winter solstice, these coral-dwelling fish release a terrific cloud of sperm and eggs in unison. The sharks swoop in to pick off the distracted grouper.

Rob wanted to witness the frenzy. He loved sharks, along with wild places full of animals wilder than himself. I, on the other hand, was terrified of sharing space with sharp-toothed predators.

Every sailor I know has one fear that outweighs all the others (because, let’s be ­honest, there are plenty of rational fears that go hand in hand with setting out across large oceans on small boats). One friend is petrified of running aground. Another refuses to anchor anywhere that sea snakes slither. One loses sleep over how to handle storms at sea.

When we set out to cross the Pacific, I wasn’t really worried about rogue waves or lightning. I wasn’t overly concerned about doldrums or underwater reefs. But my stomach twisted into gnarly knots when I thought about seeing a shark while snorkeling.

Let me back up: Crossing the ocean had been my idea. It took root when I was a little girl listening to my dad tell stories about delivering a yacht from Hawaii to California. He told me about pilot whales that nearly rammed the boat. About swinging out over the sea with a line tangled around his ankle, a gust shaking him like a rag doll over the deck. About diving deep beneath Maui’s waves to retrieve a silver pendant to gift my mom. About the endless hours on night watch, searching for mermaids and spaceships. About the blues and greens, too many to name, too vivid for words.

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This story appeared on the cover of Cruising World Magazine’s April 2025 issue.