Not sure if this is the best/right forum for this post, so if there's another more suitable place, let me know.
After my recent trip to Cocos Island, I wrote the piece below which is the closest I've gotten to being able to put down in words what it feels like to be underwater. If you have others in your life who are contemplating diving but haven't yet tried, maybe it will be a tiny bit helpful in convincing them. Hope you enjoy!
Underwater, at peace
After my recent trip to Cocos Island, I wrote the piece below which is the closest I've gotten to being able to put down in words what it feels like to be underwater. If you have others in your life who are contemplating diving but haven't yet tried, maybe it will be a tiny bit helpful in convincing them. Hope you enjoy!
Underwater, at peace
A smooth initial descent was a harbinger of good things to come. Dissolving into the water, we settled down on the rocky bottom and waited for the rest of the group. Immediately it was clear that this place was different. The smallest of baby white tips sharks darted in and out of rocks playfully, a size that seems to have all but disappeared from most other reefs. The shear amount of life and energy was readily apparent and it made it difficult to concentrate in any one particular direction.
Within minutes the first wavy plank like edge with accompanying eyeball came into view, followed by another and another. This is why we’d made the trip, 300+ miles and 36 hours off the mainland and away from the hyper connectivity of the rest of the world. And then it was done; my first Hammerhead, a must to check-off on most lists was now triple checked. The uncertainty of the expense and the distance was erased in a single swoop and replaced with the knowledge that the full moon and La Nina might combine to bring with it the riches of the ocean’s depths.
Several others gracefully began their dance around us, less skittish than I presumed but definitely unwilling to come in too close. With somewhat steadier breath, I attempted to take it all in while struggling with the desire to also capture it via photo and video. The minutes flew by and soon it was time to start the climb back up, slowly zig-zagging against the rocky edge.
It didn’t take long before the multitudes appeared. Scattered up and down in the water column, their silhouettes against the sun’s beams verge on magical. A hundred danced and ebbed toward us until they vanished as soon as they had arrived. Seeing this many magnificent creatures swimming in tandem is incredible and near indescribable. It’s hard not to be moved to near tears at their beauty as they put themselves on full display against the light.
Out of nowhere, with grace that is near unrivaled above or below the water, a magnificent Manta Ray flapped its way into view. Seeing the giant wings against the dark blue solicits an almost spiritual experience and connection with the ocean that is always over far too soon, leaving you wondering if what you saw was actually real or just a mirage.
Later, settling down against the rock, the mini-schools of Hammers start to ebb and flow, awaiting their cleaning and running in packs almost like liquid mercury flowing against the reef. The sight of their distinctive bodies roaming between the sun and the bottom creates a captivating shadow, enthralling you making you wishing you could sit and stare for hours.
A sudden surge of activity diverts your attention to the right where more than 20 frenzied white tip sharks circle a set of rocks, attempting to root out a poor helpless eel. Successful, the sharks disperse, blending back into the blue-green water.
Just as you think you can’t handle anything else an Eagle Ray glides into view, heading straight into the middle of the Hammers, who part elegantly out of its way. A marble ray follows, looking like a dinning room table that suddenly found itself floating underwater. Then, the grandfather of them all, the whale shark ambles peacefully along, coming into your periphery before blocking out the sun’s light with its hulking pear shaped body.
Over and over, the theater of the ocean plays out right in front you. Catching your breath, appreciating the experience, at peace in a way that isn’t possible above.
Within minutes the first wavy plank like edge with accompanying eyeball came into view, followed by another and another. This is why we’d made the trip, 300+ miles and 36 hours off the mainland and away from the hyper connectivity of the rest of the world. And then it was done; my first Hammerhead, a must to check-off on most lists was now triple checked. The uncertainty of the expense and the distance was erased in a single swoop and replaced with the knowledge that the full moon and La Nina might combine to bring with it the riches of the ocean’s depths.
Several others gracefully began their dance around us, less skittish than I presumed but definitely unwilling to come in too close. With somewhat steadier breath, I attempted to take it all in while struggling with the desire to also capture it via photo and video. The minutes flew by and soon it was time to start the climb back up, slowly zig-zagging against the rocky edge.
It didn’t take long before the multitudes appeared. Scattered up and down in the water column, their silhouettes against the sun’s beams verge on magical. A hundred danced and ebbed toward us until they vanished as soon as they had arrived. Seeing this many magnificent creatures swimming in tandem is incredible and near indescribable. It’s hard not to be moved to near tears at their beauty as they put themselves on full display against the light.
Out of nowhere, with grace that is near unrivaled above or below the water, a magnificent Manta Ray flapped its way into view. Seeing the giant wings against the dark blue solicits an almost spiritual experience and connection with the ocean that is always over far too soon, leaving you wondering if what you saw was actually real or just a mirage.
Later, settling down against the rock, the mini-schools of Hammers start to ebb and flow, awaiting their cleaning and running in packs almost like liquid mercury flowing against the reef. The sight of their distinctive bodies roaming between the sun and the bottom creates a captivating shadow, enthralling you making you wishing you could sit and stare for hours.
A sudden surge of activity diverts your attention to the right where more than 20 frenzied white tip sharks circle a set of rocks, attempting to root out a poor helpless eel. Successful, the sharks disperse, blending back into the blue-green water.
Just as you think you can’t handle anything else an Eagle Ray glides into view, heading straight into the middle of the Hammers, who part elegantly out of its way. A marble ray follows, looking like a dinning room table that suddenly found itself floating underwater. Then, the grandfather of them all, the whale shark ambles peacefully along, coming into your periphery before blocking out the sun’s light with its hulking pear shaped body.
Over and over, the theater of the ocean plays out right in front you. Catching your breath, appreciating the experience, at peace in a way that isn’t possible above.
