Coastal Voyager

Swimming with whale sharks at the Georgia Aquarium

My mother, sister, nephew and I visited the Georgia Aquarium, the largest aquarium in the world, after it first opened in Atlanta several years ago. We all were impressed with its many colorful and educational marinelife displays. The aquarium has numerous unique exhibits such as Tropical Diver, a reef system chockful of neon bright fish and the occasional crashing wave.

But the big "Wow!" moment came as we rounded a wall in one of the exhibits and unexpectedly came upon the aquarium's 61-foot-wide-by 23-foot-tall Ocean Voyager viewing window. We gaped through the towering acrylic window and saw mighty whale sharks swimming in the rich blue water at the top of the 6.3-million-gallon tank.

Schools of tarpon, pompano and cownose rays as well as individual zebra sharks, sawfish, leopard whiprays, bowmouth guitarfish and humphead wrasses swam below. Time stood still as we stared and marveled at the sea creatures that swam and floated before us.

Afterwards I often thought back to the spectacle of that viewing window, which still is one of my most memorable experiences as an avid snorkeler and aquarium aficionado. When I learned several months ago that it was possible to snorkel or dive in the Ocean Voyager tank through the aquarium's Journey with Gentle Giants program, I jumped at the chance.

Was I worried about the sharks in the tank? Although whale sharks grow to be 25 to 35 feet long or longer they eat plankton. And the other sharks are fed daily so they aren't a threat I'd been told by aquarium officials. As I've seen a number of non-aggressive sharks in open water while snorkeling and diving, I didn't give it too much thought.

I arrived early at the aquarium before my session so I'd have several hours to be mesmerized by Pacific sea nettles, leafy sea dragons, lionfish and other freaky wonders of the water world. One of my favorite stops at the aquarium is the 100-foot-long underwater acrylic tunnel under the Ocean Voyager tank. There's something delightful about seeing hundreds of fish swimming above your head.

Before the swim my group was given an orientation, then we suited up in the locker room at the top of the tank. Although all swimmers are issued an airtank and regulator, they can opt just to use their snorkel, which was my preference as it's quieter. We entered the water one by one then our swim across the surface of the tank began.

Soon we were joined by four huge whale sharks and two large manta rays swimming alongside and just under us. I was soon entranced by the quiet of the deep, the sweeping tails and fins and undulating shapes of the creatures near us, and the cornucopia of fishes below. The wide expanse of one whale shark's spotted body slowly moved just beneath me and I became hypnotized by the multitude of white circular shapes that seemed to have been softly spray-painted on a gray ground.

Occasionally I glanced way down at the bottom of the tank just behind our group and would see a hammerhead shark cocking his head up and eyeing us. I felt he was particularly looking at me, and that made me a bit nervous. But then I would just reassure myself and turn my attention back to my bliss, the hauntingly quiet blue and the strange marvels inhabiting it.

Reflecting on the white roofs of Bermuda

You can't visit Bermuda without noticing the white roofs on the homes, be they cottages or mansions. The  consistency of the pastel-walled houses topped by pitched white roofs is charming and picturesque. Especially because the roads on the carefully landscaped island are often winding.

On the drive to Cambridge Beaches Resort I asked my taxi driver why all the roofs were white. He explained that it was to reflect the heat in part, but also the painted, slab-stepped limestone roofs were constructed and treated for the collection of rain water. The water runs down the roof to concrete troughs that channel the water into pipes that lead to a cistern for collecting and storing the water under the house.

I learned later that the roofs are periodically treated with bleach (about once every two years) and then coated with a cement and acrylic blend that includes a fungicide. Historically the roofs were lime washed.

How clever, I thought. Why don't we use that technique everywhere? I remembered at this point that cisterns were big in Florida during the early pioneer days. The old sugar plantations often have them, and vestiges of them remain in historic homes. They were used in other states as well.

Why don't we collect water from our roofs today? Probably for the same reason most of us don't hang out our laundry anymore. It works, but it's more trouble and time consuming. Bermudians don't have a choice because water resources are limited. As Florida and other states struggle with water shortages, who knows, cisterns on the mainland may come back into vogue.

Bermuda doesn't totally rely on its cisterns I learned when I returned home. While the cisterns easily supply the residents' water needs during most of the year, the summer high season brings a tourist influx that outstrips supply. During such times water from deep wells is trucked around the island.

I have to say I was a bit hesitant about drinking the water before I was assured by residents that it was perfectly safe, and that tourists can drink it without ill effect. It tastes perfectly fine, and there's something special about knowing you're drinking water that has been naturally processed by evaporation and condensation.