It may seem like we are always moving the boat. The weather has continuously forecast wind and rain, and we have been dodging that since the very first day. But more importantly, this is anything but a "if it's Tuesday, this must be Belgium" trip. Every day is carefully planned to give us the maximum experience in the water. It's not for the convenience of the boat; but for our safety and pleasure that we are moving as much as we are. Before every outing, Alex goes out to the reef, gets in the water, and scouts it out. When he briefs us on the deck, we get a map of the area, with tides and currents marked, details on what to look for, where the best snorkeling might be, and where the boats will drop us, and pick us up. It's very personal, and very good!
I missed the first snorkel of the day, waiting and hoping that the anti-biotics would kick in, and let me breathe without gagging. I'm hot, and sleepy. But just the name of our next reef, Melissa's garden, was enough to get me out there for as long as I could stay. This is a coral garden, and the water is shallow, abundant with reef fish. But we were reminded to look out to the blue often, for "things" going by. So today, I added to my list of fishes: blue-spotted ray, colourful striped sweetlips, tiny black blennies hanging on to the underside of the cliff along the edge of the island, a giant clam, Napoleon wrasse, and a delightful moray eel peeking out from his hiding place. Irwan poked a bit, and got him out where we could get a good look!
Our final outing of the day was a hike, 268 steps to a look out. We took the speed boats in to the dock, then stretched ourselves out along the lengthy climb. The route is constructed, so no scrambling required here, but I felt every one of my 67 years as I climbed, trying to keep up to those ahead. Beads of moisture covered my hands and rivers of sweat ran down my body as we climbed to the summit. The islands are like mushrooms from up there, rising like muffin tops up from the ripples of aquamarine water that gently covers the reefs.
It was a tough climb. There were photos and more photos, and smiles and more photos. There was some reckless behaviour, in an effort to get the best photo. One of our fellow travellers, to the horror of many, climbed onto the railing, and posed for the perfect mantel-piece photo. It ended with a quiet moment on the dock with Anthony and Margaret. We had taken a different stairway down and ended up on a different pier. The boat picked us up, drove us around some small villages and home stays before heading back to the Seven Seas.
January 11, 2020
It was an absolutely surreal experience this morning snorkeling along the edge of the mangroves. I was fearful at first; in my mind's eye was the river through the mangroves in Tenacatita, Mexico and in Vietnam where the exposed roots hung down close to both sides of the boat, giving me a spooky dark chlostrophic feeling. But here there is mangrove on left, and blue on the right. It's very shallow. So shallow you can barely move your arms and legs you just float. The coral is so close you can easily touch it (but don't of course), and the millions of tiny reef fish move in and out, between and among the corals, in schools and solo. The sunlight cast streaks of shadow and light on the corals, lifting the colours from paleness to brilliance, and making the fish seem almost translucent. Still, every strip or dot or speckle of their mature bodies was visible on the tiniest of fish. Even the tiniest cardinal fish, smaller than your baby finger, showed off distinctive black polka dots. I felt like I was floating through an aquarium. I swept my hand over the many-coloured Christmas tree worms, and watched them instantly close to make a gaping hole in the rock. I passed my hand through the light shining on a tiny blue clam, and watched as he closed then opened again, closed then opened again with each pass of my hand. I watched as a juvenile batfish swam casually among us, modeling for the cameras that swept in to capture his best pose. I studied the movement of a single anemone fish and scurried off at the sight of a snake-like banded krate.
Today I added to my list: banded krate or banded snake fish, false clown anemone, Clark's anemone, blue clams, pyjama cardinal fish, dragon fish, and a crocodile fish.
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