When people ask me where my favorite dive spots in the entire world are, I have to stop and give it some serious thought. I like Fiji for soft corals, Chuuk for wrecks, Indonesia for critters, the Solomon Islands for an all-around trip and the U.S. west coast for kelp. But I usually reply that I like wherever I am going next, and that often includes right here in the Cayman Islands where I have the good fortune to live.
Viewing a torrent of flowing liquid turmoil while safe and dry on shore is enough to make anybody hesitate about signing up for a dive charter in the Skookumchuck Narrows. This is also the place where rushing tidal currents commonly reach impressive speeds of 14-16 knots (30 km/hr)!
Oh yes, the sharks are circling. Can you say ‘Amen’? With an accent hinting of both Popeye the Sailorman and Quint from the movie Jaws, I call to alert my own mateys. It is my best and worst pirate imitation. But, it is appropriate. Aye, it is right as rain.
Tallen, my youngest daughter and part-time dive buddy entered the cool emerald coloured water with me as the current slowed to a stop to change direction (slack). Full of anticipation, Tallen and I descended down the southwest side of Virago Rock within Porlier Pass, a .65 km (.4 mile) wide channel between the islands of Valdez and Galiano.
“Sui Generis” is the most appropriate way I find to describe the Galapagos Islands. A place where the intruder is the human being. A place where many of its inhabitants are animals that exist only in this small piece of the world. A place where evolution seems to have been suspended at some moment in time. A place where we can feel like pioneers in each corner.
“El Dorado” reminds me of the mythical land of gold and riches that is dreamt of by treasure seekers. As I aimed my camera in search of the exotic marine wildlife of the “El Dorado” house reef, I felt like a treasure hunter from the fable.
”They don’t eat people … do they?”
I can still remember the strain of uncertainty in the voice during the conversation. It is now several years ago since we sat together in the compartment of the train on its way north through Northern Sweden’s misty autumnal wilderness.
