Snorkeling

Two days ago, I was sitting on Volivoli beach reading a book. I'd been at Volivoli for a few days and quite like its beach. The day was hot, the water bright-blue clear, and the little stripped fish that swim between your legs if you sit just off the sandbar were out in schools.

Like the previous day, one of the diving instructors walked past me, said Hello, and asked if I'd like to join the dive party that afternoon. Can I snorkel, I asked. He nodded. So, unlike the previous day, I agreed.

I have a hearty respect for the sea and all the creatures in it - particularly the ones that can eat me. Sometimes this "respect" borders on fear. I had been confronted with said respect the day before when I decided to kayak out to Nananu Island. You can see the island from Volivoli and it was only supposed to take 45 minutes each way.

It started out fine. I was paddling leisurely and very much enjoying watching the world below, but then - then the bottom dropped out beyond the reef and there was only blue below my kayak. Deep, dark, impenetrable blue. And, then, all alone out there in the vastness, my mind began to wander to all the large and hungry things that might be under my kayak, and I was once again reminded of my very hearty respect for the sea.

But today - or two days ago rather - was a new day, and free snorkeling in the South Pacific is not something one turns down over something silly like a dislike of sharks. So, I said Yes - with a smile - and boarded the boat.

We motored out to deep water - four divers, two instructors, and me. We stopped and anchored. Snorkelers first, he said. I shuffled to the back of the boat feeling rather under-equipped with just my snorkel and fins, took a deep breath - or maybe a couple - and slid feet first into the deep, dark, blue.

It was so worth it. I opened my eyes to a world I had never seen before. Sure I had snorkeled around Mana, but this - this was something else. The coral was alive - the stuff you see footage of in Nature documentaries. It was built up in what appeared to be large rocks - I'm unsure - but each "chunk" of coral was separated by a space that ranged in width from a small channel to meters and meters of open water. I couldn't see the sea floor. The divers too disappeared as they descended, and I was left to my own exploration, though I had been warned not to stray too far from the boat.

I swam from group to group. Whilst peering down into the darkness of a channel I saw movement and from below came a school of my-sized fish with large silver eyes. I bobbed on the surface staring. They changed course to avoid me and continued on - my only scare for the day. That and the jellyfish who turned out to be not at all dangerous and in fact very friendly. I would later learn from the divers that they did encounter a reef shark, but it "wasn't very big."