My breath came in sharply as I sped across the waters of the Atlantic in the predawn mists. The salty breeze had a whiff of excitement with it, as if it, too, was glad to be out in the early morning. In the bottom of my skiff, the Sunshine, was my face mask, an oxygen tank, an anchor a life jacket and a water bottle.
I came to an isolated spot. I turned off the engine and threw down the anchor. There’s nothing like the sea in the early morning, with the salty tang sharp in your nostrils. This morning was really still. The waves were sheets of glass, rolling, breaking, forming and breaking again. I put on my oxygen lungs, my flippers and my face mask and flipped overboard.
Underneath the surface of the water a whole new world opened up. Gorgeous coral reefs and elegant fans waved in the current, stretching as far as the eye could see. Shafts of sunlight danced and pierced the underwater gloom as the sun rose, while shoals of multi-colored fish swam like synchronized ballet dancers.
As I swam along, letting the currents take me where they would, I saw a dark, hulking shape off to my right. I tore free of the currents and swam over a lumbering old sea turtle crusted with barnacles. Coming closer, I saw a shipwreck, which showed signs of having sunken in a naval battle. Continue reading