Close encounters with a stingray, barracuda sighti
As we approached the down point, the excitement grew. The dive master had to brief us as to what to do when we got there, because the boat couldn’t stop for long due to the strong current. We donned our tanks, weight belts, fins, masks and snorkels, and were ready to jump when the boat would go through the small canal.
The outboard motor revved, and we entered the canal.
"Go!" the dive master yelled to me. From the edge of the boat I back-flipped into the sea, and immediately started to descend as I was instructed. I stopped at about 10 feet below the surface, and met the others as they were descending.
There was nothing to see at this point, so we tranquilly continued our descent. Kevin was first to touch the bed of the sea, at 80 feet down. A cloud of sand rose around him, as he started pointing below where I was about to land myself. I looked but could see nothing through the cloud, so I landed.
What I saw shortly after I landed was both mesmerizing and alarming at the same time. A ray, I believe a stingray, rose from its camouflaged state in the sand. It was resting about three feet in front of where I stood! I was happy to see it swim gracefully away from us, but it was an awesome sight. Although I am not positive it was a stingray, the following definition, from the 1999 World Book Encyclopedia, suits the image in my mind perfectly:
Stingray, also called stingaree, is a ray, or flattish fish. Its long, whiplike tail has one or two sharp spines on the back of the tail near the middle. These spines have barbs along their edges, and at the base of the spines are poisonous glands. When bathers disturb or step on the stingray, it swings its tail upward. In this way, it causes a most painful wound that is nearly as dangerous as a poisonous snakebite.
There are about 100 species of stingrays. Most of them live on sandy to muddy bottoms in all warm shallow parts of the ocean and in bays. Some species live in fresh water. In South America, small, freshwater stingrays infest the rivers flowing into the Atlantic Ocean. These stingrays live as far as 2,000 miles (3,200 kilometers) above the mouth of the Amazon River. A stingray that lives in the waters off Australia reaches a length of 14 feet (4 meters).
Scientific Classification. Marine stingrays belong to the family Dasyatidae. River stingrays belong to the family Potamotrygonidae. The common stingray is Dasyatis centrourus.
The dive master waved for us to follow him as he swam towards the cave. I was buddied with Kevin, and Corey went with the guide. They were about to enter, when Corey got the jitters about going in. The dive master was in before he knew; Corey motioned to Kevin and I to follow the guide, and he would wait. We entered, but the guide wasn’t impressed when he didn’t know where Corey was. He went out to find Corey, while Kevin and I explored the cave.
I wish I was a better writer to describe it, but I honestly don’t think even the best writers could give it justice. The cave was about 20 feet high, and 15 feet wide at the opening, and got smaller and smaller, to a depth of about 50 feet. The walls were jagged dark rock. We had lights, but the light from the entrance was enough to get around.
It was simply amazing, to see the numerous different forms of life going about their business at the bottom of the sea. For lack of a better association, it was like watching a National Geographic documentary, observing tropical fish, of every color imaginable, swimming in, out and past the mouth of the cave.
I looked up, only to be even more mystified. Our air bubbles climbed up the roof of the cave, and shined brilliantly as they reflected light into our eyes. It was like mercury particles actually floating to the surface, a physical impossibility of course.
The air bubbles were then trapped in small pockets in the roof of the cave, that conformed to the rock formations. The dive master had told us about this phenomena, but I couldn’t imagine it. He entered, satisfied that Corey was fine waiting, and led Kevin to the roof of the cave. After they descended, it was my turn.
I went up with the dive master, and surfaced at 65 feet below the surface of the Caribbean Sea! I couldn’t believe what was happening as I pulled out my regulator. The dive master asked me what I thought of it, and all I could do was scream, "This is amazing!"
I was breathing the air trapped in a small pocket. We were told that we might experience an itchy sensation when our faces were exposed to this air, but I felt none. Time was short though, since we were so deep, and it was time to get to surface for real. We met Corey and made our way up slowly, pausing only for decompression.
On our way back we went to a beautiful leaf hut overlooking the sea, ate sandwiches and rested. We did some snorkeling, along with a final dive that afternoon, which was similar to the first dives we did. I saw another barracuda on this dive, which was pretty exciting, but it was far enough away not to be a threat.
Back in Taganga, exhausted and overwhelmed by the day, we hopped on a bus to Santa Marta.
Camacho concludes his section on marine life in the Caribbean, by saying that the fauna associated with the Caribbean ecosystems are generally quite diverse, especially various species of sponges, shrimp, mollusks and fish. There are, for example, 125 species of fish and 187 invertebrates known to man, that live in the narrow region of the "marine meadow" of Tairona National Park.
Sounds like I missed some. Guess I’ll have to go back.
Read all three parts of the adventure!
Part One
Part Two
Part Three