ANGUILLA
E YEWITNE S S Creatures of the deep
“No beers before the dive,” my instructor Matthew bellows with a wide grin, bringing me out of my trance. For the last five minutes, I’ve been gazing out at the expanse of the ocean in silence, an attempt to pacify my pounding pulse as we press on into the blue. It’s early afternoon and the small boat — filled with eight
divers and three guides — blares out reggae as it speeds across the waves, drenching my wetsuit in salt spray. Behind us, the thick pelt of trees framing the island, dancing gently to the rhythm of the wind, slowly soften into the distance. We’re heading out to Sandy Deep for the fourth and final dive
of our PADI Open Water Certification course; it’s one of three dive sites located off Sandy Island in Anguilla. I’m told that this is a perfect spot for new divers, as the marine life is abundant and the warm water of the Caribbean is crystal clear, but this does little to still my bubbling nerves. “Don’t be afraid,” Rick, my buddy, tells me, in a warm
Canadian accent. “There’s nothing quite like diving in Anguilla,” he continues. “It’s addictive.” The boat slows to a stop and sea air whips across my burnt face
as I watch the other divers prepare themselves for the descent. They move fast, deliberately, manoeuvring through each stage as though it were as mindless as getting ready for work. “You’ll be fine,” Matthew reassures me with an eye roll. He’s mastered the art of reading my thoughts over the last few days, it seems. “You’ll find only peace down there.” After a slow descent, we eventually reach 18 metres (60ft), and
I watch as the other divers fade into the abyss, their outlines bleeding into the hazy blue. Thankfully, Matthew stays close. Too afraid to look up and acknowledge how far we’ve dropped, I glance around at the reef which hums with life. A school of angelfish glides by, disrupting my buoyancy as I turn to watch them disappearing amid the bright green algae. Below, a grey trumpetfish drifts vertically along the ocean floor, its elongated body providing the perfect camouflage to vanish in the seagrass. Matthew swims seamlessly through the water with the
confidence of someone who’s done this a hundred times. I follow his lead, trying to allow the ocean’s stillness to seep into me. But I’m scared to enjoy it, too afraid that I’ll forget to breathe if I allow my mind to drift. Rick, however, is having the time of his life, gesturing towards a green turtle sitting idly atop a peachy- hued coral. Suddenly, his eyes widen behind his mask, and he lifts an arm to point to something behind me. Beady black eyes, a gaping mouth and a sharp fin come into
view, and the paralysis of fear overwhelms me. The shark sways masterfully, arrogantly, through the water, passing us painfully slowly, as if well aware of the impact of his presence. My skin shakes with a cold, unnerving tremor and I float
awkwardly downwards, my knees butting against the coral beneath me. But somehow the encounter has flipped a switch, as though facing my greatest fear was the catalyst I needed to catapult myself out of apprehension and into appreciation — and for the first time on this course, I feel the sensation of timelessness that Matthew has been talking about. Now, with nothing to feel but awe, my mind is consumed only
by the colourful creatures who call this watery world home. My fear unravels and my thoughts quieten. Down here, there’s no sense of gravity to remind me of my fragility, only a stillness that has provided the perfect remedy for my restless mind. Matthew was right, it feels like peace, and all I needed to do was, quite literally — dive in.
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