Fla. Mermaid camp lures aquatic wannabes
WEEKI WACHEE, Fla. -- The heartbeat of the earth bubbles up through the cold, clear depths of the Weeki Wachee spring and into the souls of the mermaids who frolic there. Some swim lost in azure abandon, some are cleansed and renewed, and some are healed of sorrows as deep as the vast cavern below.
For 65 years, mermaids have been the magic behind one of Florida's oldest and quirkiest attractions. Through ups and downs, Weeki Wachee has survived, triumphing over benign neglect and Disney World. In the ever-changing landscape of Florida tourism, Weeki Wachee mermaids have been beloved constants for decades. These are beautiful young sirens of the deep who still enthrall with their underwater ballets filled with daring and romance, mystique and magic.
And it's that magic that draws women 30 and older to the Sirens of the Deep Mermaid Camp.
"There is no other place like this in the world," said camp leader Barbara Wynns upon greeting the recent bevy of would-be-sirens the weekend of May 5 and 6. "You will be transformed."
Wynns was a performing mermaid at Weeki Wachee from 1967 to 1969 and 1972 to 1975. Since 1997, she and other mermaid alumni have reunited to perform monthly shows that have proven wildly popular. A small cadre of those mermaids assists Wynns in hosting the monthly summer camps.
"When we show, we know what you're feeling," she told the campers. "We know what we've been doing for 65 years, and you leave here knowing you're a mermaid."
The Sirens of the Deep campers get into the ancient spring to learn moves and swim like the "show" mermaids who perform daily. The show performers rely on air hose systems deployed deep in the spring, designed years ago by Ocalan Newt Perry. But the campers free dive as they learn to swish their aqua tails and entertain family members and friends snapping photos and videos inside the underwater theater.
Healing waters
Camper Elaine Martin, 53, from Windsor, Ontario, Canada, had no idea she would be attending mermaid camp.
"I had three family members dying or gone recently. My family wanted me to have a break in the bad action, so we came to Florida for two weeks," she said early on the morning of May 5.
During her vacation - filled with trips to Universal in Orlando, boating excursions and Segway adventures - Martin's husband told her over dinner two days prior to the mermaid camp that she would be attending.
"I used to swim in circles in a backyard pool, pretending to be a mermaid," Martin said, her face aglow in rouge, her hair decorated with twin plumeria blossoms and her neck draped with a necklace bearing charms in the form of starfish and other marine creatures.
Her eyes beaming with joy, yet reflecting a deep sadness, Martin said she was on her high school swim team and was a lifeguard and swim instructor, and has done water yoga. Clearly, she was eager to don her spandex mermaid tail and slip into the depths of one of Florida's first-magnitude springs to let the soothing waters ease her troubled heart as she fulfilled her childhood dream.
In the water, Martin tended to stay down deep, performing complex moves. Each time she came out of the water, her shoulders seemed more relaxed, her step a little lighter.
Near the end of camp, Martin dove really deep and twirled in a tight circle, whirling as if she were sloughing off her troubles and leaving them on the bottom.
On with the tail
To become a Siren of the Deep, one first must accomplish donning the tail. The first step is being fitted for a pair of flippers, then being sized into a proper tail.
After the flippers are inserted - by a very patient camp aide - the prospective siren sits on the floor, rolls the tail down like pantyhose and inserts her dainty feet into the flippers. Then, she delicately (right!) lies on the floor and hoists the tail upwards, over her knees and onto her hips.
Then?
There's always scooting on one's backside, as standing is not an option. Smart mermaids don the tail near where they need to be, such as off to the side of a special pavilion before posing for "dry" photos on a gaily decorated Neptune's throne, or suiting up on a floating dock near the underwater theater.
Sorority of sirens
Some campers, such as Ami Ji Schmid, 53, from West Palm Beach, come in Weeki Wachee's gates with their "mermaidness" on full display. For Schmid, that included a bright aqua bra top adorned with glittering attachments, a semi-tail of shimmering blue, a tiara and makeup that glittered in the sun.
"I researched the makeup and found waterproof items and glue-on jewels," said Schmid, who has worked with face painting and costume design.
Her attendance at mermaid camp was a birthday gift from her husband.
Tampa's Guesna Dohrman, 64, said she was a triathlete until multiple sclerosis robbed her of some of her abilities. She still is a strong swimmer, however, and attended camp to enjoy the rare privilege of swimming where few people ever get to go. In the tail fitting room, facing a rack of gleaming necklaces and bracelets with which to accessorize one's mermaid attire, Dohrman layered on a short necklace of inch-long silver stones in a "V" shape, longer beaded strands and rows of bracelets.
"More is more!" she exclaimed.
Camper Rebecca Suerdieck, 40, from Williamsburg, Va., said she had been planning to attend for three years, which is as long as the camps have been offered. Suerdieck teaches water aerobics and also works as a costumed character at Jamestown. Once in the water, she said moves she performs a dozen times a day in a swimming pool for her work were much more challenging in a cold, deep spring and a tail.
Even so, Suerdieck proved to be a natural at the "mermaid crawl," her body undulating gracefully through the teal blue water.
For Mikki Schulze, 49, of Gainesville, attending camp was part celebration and part memorial.
Four years ago on May 6, the second day of camp, her beloved and gifted brother, a graduate of Harvard, committed suicide, sending her into an emotional tailspin.
"And there was also more heartache," she said in a whisper. "I went from being a stick person to heavy. I knew I needed to figure out how to get healthy. I was suffering from PTSD, depression, insomnia …"
An ICU nurse, Schulze said she made up her mind to lose weight and embrace life more fully. She recently went skydiving and signed up for mermaid camp as soon as she learned it existed.
Following her first swim in her tail, her long blonde hair flowing in the breeze and aqua mascara brightening her clear blue eyes, Schulze surveyed the campers' backstage lair and said with a serene smile, "It's so great knowing you can come back."
Mermagic
During day one of camp, Wynns was accompanied in the lair, on the dock and in the water by mermaid alumni Bev Sutton of Dunnlleon ('69-'72) and Susie Pennoyer of Clearwater ('71-'73), former camper Loralee Janos of New Port Richey, and Friends of the Weeki Wachee board member, artist and photographer Julie Komenda. On Sunday, the roster expanded to include alumni Crystal Robson ('70-'72) of Holiday and Lydia Dodson of Masarkytown ('69-'72).
Saturday's camp was strenuous and exhausting - made more so by trying to figure how to swim with your legs bound together and learning your underwater breathing limits.
Sunday's camp was magic. Mermagic.
These sirens slithered into their aqua tails early in the morning and slipped into the spring as if born in it.
"It's more than I expected," said Schmid. "It's a sisterhood. I'm connecting to a greater depth of the meaning of allure, of being magical."
"What a fantasy," said Martin, beaming even more broadly than the day before.
To a maiden, each camper exulted about the experience of donning a tail and learning graceful mermaid moves, including working together to form a team photo op.
One of the perks of mermaid camp is a CD of photos showing each siren in her stages of metamorphosis above and below the water. And those, along with pictures and videos taken by friends and family members, will long bear testament to the May 5-6, 2012, Class of Sirens of the Deep.
But the women really won't need those visuals, for each can say with complete conviction: "I am a mermaid. And once a mermaid, always a mermaid."
Perhaps Schmid conveys it best of all: "I loved being in a tail. I realized I've always wanted it. I don't want to take it off. I really feel like I've spent my life as a mermaid, I was just waiting to get my tail."