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LAST week, after making plans with friends and family to visit Hanauma Bay, I found myself dreading the day.

It isn't that I don't like these people. I enjoy them all and love doing things with them -- but not in a group in the ocean. That's because among eight people, only one besides me was a veteran snorkeler. That meant two of us had to ward off bad experiences for six people.

One of our novices was a friend who moved to Hawaii about a year ago but had not yet been snorkeling. The reason for this wasn't poor swimming skills. The man was afraid of sharks. The previous day, however, he had decided to face his fears and go snorkeling with us.

Another in our group was my sister's visiting friend, who had also never been snorkeling. She claimed to be a good swimmer, but that doesn't always mean much.

I once had a strong lap swimmer try to swim a crawl while snorkeling. This young woman just couldn't stop turning her head sideways with each stroke to take a breath.

She didn't breathe in air, of course, because the snorkel in her mouth was continually flooding. Needless to say, this was not a good experience for either of us.

My sister was another member of our Hanauma Bay expedition. Her problem is getting cold. I don't mean a little chicken skin here. When this woman gets chilled, which is usually the second she hits the water, she shakes all over. Soon her teeth start chattering and water leaks into her mouthpiece.

This happened the first time I took my sister snorkeling, and she couldn't catch her breath. Gasping for air, her face turned white and her lips turned blue. She scared me half to death.

The others with us were three 10-year-old children. One started throwing up as we were leaving the house, so he stayed home. That left me with two kids to fret over. One was my niece, who spent hours the day before practicing snorkeling in a swimming pool.

She was absolutely thrilled to try out her new skills. As I listened to her excited talk in the car, I feared she might be greatly disappointed. Snorkeling in the lumpy ocean is much harder than snorkeling in a pool.

The other child, a young friend from Bangladesh, worried me less. Since this boy is recovering from surgery on his feet, he currently has a brace on one foot and a cast on the other. He loves the water, but the cast would keep him beached.

Finally, after considerable commotion, we trooped down to hill to the bay. Almost immediately a departing tourist donated his swim ring to our boy on crutches so he could float on the water. As we taped a plastic bag over his small cast, the needle on my worry meter hit the red zone.

We got in the water, and I braced for every possible calamity. But not only were there no calamities, everyone's performance was outstanding.

The fear-of-sharks man boldly swam outside the reef and, to everyone's surprise, fully enjoyed the big fish and deep water. My sister warmed herself by swimming hard, and her friend kept up like she'd been snorkeling all her life.

My niece radiated with her newfound confidence. She glided around the bay with poise, admiring the marine world until her hands and feet wrinkled like prunes. At the same time, our duct-taped boy laid prone on his swim ring, dipping his masked face in the water and yelling, "Fish! Look! Fish!" It couldn't have been more fun.

Sometimes, the things I dread the most turn out to be my most memorable experiences. This day at Hanauma Bay was one of them.