9/4/15 – Cobalt Coast, West Bay, Grand Cayman
A moment is fleeting – light and shape appear and disappear within the same instant. A picture, however, allows time to stand still, freezing the tide and the turning of the world for us to remember how beautiful things truly were.
Cameras are capable of perceiving things that our eyes and our minds simply cannot. The tools we use as photographers become part of our thought process – aperture, exposure, composition. But none of that matters unless we put ourselves in a place worthy of imaging. Every corner of this island is more than worthy. If we do not look, these moments will gladly pass us by. We have spent the past few days looking further than usual, searching for those wavelengths of life that are difficult to see during the normal daily routine. Work, traffic, relationships – all flood our concentration, yet, natural beauty quietly happens in the background. To see something different you must shine a different light (both figuratively as well as literally). We put away our regular white lights and entered the water with our fluorescent blue lights (black lights) and yellow filters. Hard corals utilize certain proteins and algae as a semi-sunscreen that we cannot see until the fluoro lights come out to play – normally orange, brown, or ‘clear’ corals and anemones become vibrant green and purple glows. As we moved across the top of the reef, our fluoro lights lit up certain animals as others disappeared into the inky dark of night. Think halfway between an alien abduction and an Ibiza nightclub. Some parts of the reef were glowing so brightly it seemed to entrance us, leading us deeper over the ledge – we’re almost out of air, but wait, the next section looks even brighter…
Even after our weird fluorescent lights are put away, the life across this island doesn’t cease to amaze. The sun shines through the surface through what seems like an infinite amount of water, illuminating more life than I could even begin to grasp. The bathymetry (underwater topography) cuts the ocean like a knife. Giant pillars of rock erupt from the depths up towards the surface where we can only see the peak. Walls hug the coast like a close friend, bending out to sea creating mountain ranges blanketed by color – we dive spots 30 ft deep, then swim a stone’s throw away, and suddenly you can look down and watch the ocean floor vanish below 500 ft, too dark to see – what else is down there… Day becomes night and all of this is concealed. The once friendly ex-USS Kittiwake wreck turns into something more sinister, something too moody to describe in words. I found myself moving across the massive ship in complete darkness, not taking many pictures because my camera simply could not steal my eyes away from the scenes around me. Luckily, the video camera was running the entire time and I look forward to creating a video to share this experience with you all – moments I truly will not, or cannot, forget. Frightening to the point of magnificence…
The sun rises and black turns to blue again. The night shift disappears into the deep as the daytime residents begin to mobilize. Damselfish dart about their morning routine, blennies poke their heads up to say good morning, sea fans regain their color and begin to dance again in the current. There, literally, is not one inch of uninhabited space in these beautiful waters, so the animals have no choice but to coexist. We sat and watched as the ‘cleaning stations’ opened up for the day where groupers and angelfish come to get ‘cleaned’ – gobies and shrimp climb aboard the much larger fish and eat parasites, a symbiotic relationship where predator and prey put aside their differences to help each other. Our friends brought some bait squid underwater and before we knew it it was a stingray society meeting. Once the food was gone, they stayed around wanting to be pet. Massive rays acted like puppy dogs – they like getting their face rubbed, almost falling asleep under our little scratches. After the cacophony of action, I saw one ray out in the sand, away from the fray. I put my camera down and spent a moment with her, we stared into each others’ eyes. Nothing was said, so much was said…
I’ve learned so much about myself here. The ocean has always been more than just water to me – and now, Grand Cayman is more than just an island to me. Yes, there are tourist hotels, giant cruise ships, and duty free shopping, but none of that is what I see. We have found our own corner, a corner carved by the sea and modeled by its ocean inhabitants. The people we’ve met here have taught me so much and treated me like one of their own although I am still just a freshman in this aqua fraternity. We will leave, but Cayman will never leave us. Until next time, cheers Cobalt Coast.
