My first visit to Lodge Kura Hulanda in Curacao two years ago was brief, so I didn't snorkel off the beach. I lusted to see what was under the surface of those brilliant turquoise waters, and I felt in my heart I had to come back. The desire to snorkel there beckoned to me almost like a siren's song.
To tell the truth I could have plunged in the first time, but I had just been on boat excursion, and I was exhausted, and the reef line looked pretty far out, at least a football field. I would have had to swim out there by myself. So I just promised myself I'd be back another time.
Here I was again at the Lodge Kura Hulanda and it was a perfect day, and the water was even more beautiful and calm than I remembered. I got fins from the dive shop and headed to the beach with my snorkel and mask. A girl in my group said she was coming as well, and told me she was an avid diver and a former life guard. Great, a good dive buddy. "You should always snorkel with a buddy," my inner parent cooed with approval.
I started to see bait fish early on as I swam through the shallow waters heading deeper, and then there were some reef patches with some nice parrot fish, damsel fish and sargeant majors. But I wanted to see what was out farther, so I kept swimming as did my bud. A few more patches and the water turned a deep crystal-clear blue as it dropped off fairly precipitously.
Big schools of fish swam close to the surface and beneath them was reef for as far as the eye could see. The visability was at least 150 feet, and I was entranced by the abundance of coral and fish down below. Hmmm, it's probably this good or better in Bonaire, Curacao's sister island, I thought. No wonder divers are gaga about Bonaire. Suddenly I saw a flickering school of fish swimming in a circular swarm below. Swirling and swirling in a lovely vortex.
I made myself to remember periodically to check to see where my buddy was because we were exploring according to our own inclinations. As I was became ever more entranced she popped up near me and said she was going in. Not enough excitement for her, I thought.
But I was getting a bit drunk on the beauty of it all, and after she left, I got the notion to explore farther along the deep reefline paralleling the beach. It's easy to be seduced into following fish and going from one spectacle to the next, especially when you're not with a buddy. I wasn't concerned. I could see the beach, and some divers had surfaced not too, too far away.
But then I came up and noticed I was drifting far to the left of the beach and was in front of the Indian cliffs. In fact I noticed a strong current pulling me farther out. I better head back, I thought. I tried to swim directly back parallel to the beach but the current was so strong that I couldn't make much progress. I even tried swimming toward the cliffs, but that was difficult as well. When I floated, the current took me yet farther out toward the left and toward the deep sea. No one was anywhere near.
Oh no, I thought. This isn't very smart. How did I get in this situation? The Caribbean waters had looked so flat, so deceptively calm. Then it occurred to me: It's possible that the current may pull me so far out into the sea that I will eventually tire of keeping myself afloat and drown. I felt highly alert and a bit numb.
The more I thought about the negative possibilities, the more my heart began to race. "This is no time to panic," I directed myself, squelching a momentary urge to freak out. "That would be the worst thing you could do." Let me think about what I have heard about undertows, about not fighting them, about going along the path of least resistence.
What if I swim through the current at an angle? Not the easiest thing to do, but I did make some progress. Okay, I thought. I've got to focus. I've got to bear down and kick and stroke steadily. So that's what I did. And I pushed and pushed myself, not stopping because I knew I'd lose my progress. And before long I could see the sand was not too, too far beneath me. And I knew I'd soon be able to stand. And then I spied a large mound of dead coral, like a chunk of rock, and swam toward it, and stood on it and breathed heavily until I caught my breath.
What a relief! After I rested I swam back to some reef patches I'd seen near the shore. I spent a good 20 minutes more floating around the patches following the movements of squirrel fish, hog fish and other brightly colored fish. After the high anxiety of a few moments before, watching the marine creatures was powerfully calming.
Snorkeling has always been my sanctuary. The graceful movements of marine life, the dance of light in the water, the feeling of being buoyed up in the water hypnotises. When I'm snorkeling I feel I am flying along the edge of the sky and the sea. I am so very close to God.
Life has it's close calls, and every one of them is a lesson. I'm grateful I made my way back to Curacao to snorkel, and even more grateful I made my way back from snorkeling.
Nice work of art, great post!
When I'm snorkeling I feel I am flying along the edge of the sky and the sea. I am so very close to God.
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Posted by: Mary-ann | 11/09/2009 at 11:06 PM
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Posted by: Term Papers | 01/28/2010 at 06:09 AM