Less Than a League Under the Sea.

After more than two hours on the road, I was sure glad to see the aquamarine shimmering waters where the catamaran was docked, ready to pick us up and take us deeper into the sea.

The trip had begun early in the morning when a minivan, which was already packed with tourists, arrived at the hotel. After driving for about ten minutes, the driver parked the vehicle, and the whole group was asked to step out. They tagged us with a sticker and ushered into a souvenir shop to use the washrooms before the long road ahead (or so I surmised). We wandered around the store like deer caught in the headlights then ten minutes later, we gathered in the parking lot and were split into different groups, then they put us in separate vehicles. In this new car, we drove to a parking lot about five minutes away. There was an animated discussion between our drivers and other drivers there with separate groups of passengers. We were put in yet another car with another group and drove to a gas station, where we were split once again into a separate minivan, and at last, we were finally on the way across this exotic land.

The van was driven by a young guy and his even younger copilot. They did not say a word as they drove through some streets and then onto the highway. The driver talked to someone on the phone then hung up and said something to his companion in a local creole language, peppered with Spanish words. He raised his voice and began shaking his head and muttering to his wing man, who uttered a few words here and there (seemingly in self defense), but which only served to send the driver into a more heated tirade, repeatedly mentioning the name of the place we were going and another different place.

The driver was quiet for a minute, and then loud bachata and raggaeton music began to play over the speakers. Promptly, he began berating his companion over the music, mentioning the name of our destination again. The beat of the bachata songs reverberated through my body. Then after a back-and-forth between the two of them, they fell silent and only the intricate bubbly and lively sound of the Caribbean music could be heard.

From the little I understood, I conjectured that the driver was upset he had been asked to drive to this distant destination and his copilot was somehow to blame.

He began to sing aloud the bachata tunes in a soulful heartfelt and off-key tone.

The copilot glowered at him when his companion started singing and rubbed his own forehead in frustration. He began to play a shooting phone game with the volume up while his companion belted out the bachata songs.

As he sang, the driver paused briefly then again picked up the dispute with his copilot, so another round of spicy discussion and pyrotechnics ensued.

I chuckled inside and was enjoying myself at their antics. It gave me immense pleasure seeing how other cultures interacted and solved problems, though I would've preferred if they would settle their differences and focused on the road ahead. The other tourists in the van barely said a word most of the trip.

Bob Marley come over the speakers with Natural Mystic, and I began to bob my head a little. What a trip it was to hear that song while around me sugar cane fields, pastoral hills, forests, and mountains rolled by in flash forward.

There's a natural mystic blowing through the air
If you listen carefully now you will hear

After more than an hour of driving and listening to the tropical tunes, the driver pulled into a parking lot and ushered us into a large shop with bathrooms inside. It was a great souvenir shop with a variety of local goods, but alas we couldn't linger for long, and soon we were off again on the road.

After driving for about twenty minutes, the driver said something to his copilot, who looked up from his phone and replied. The driver raised his voice and scolded him. His young companion tried to say something, but the driver stopped him, saying “ya! Ya! Okay!” as if calming the situation. He began to sing some soulful bachata, but no sooner had his copilot fallen silent than he began to scold him again with a barrage of what sounded like colourful creole words.

The copilot pulled his phone to his ear and called someone then passed the phone to the frustrated driver. After he hung up, the driver slowed the car to the side when there was a break in the median and turned it around. Five minutes later, the pair seemed to have realized they made a mistake as they looked back at a bridge receding in the distance. The driver laughed, began singing, and shook his head. He turned the car around, drove five minutes, and turned it around again. This time, he made a right turn just before he got to the bridge and followed a road to our final destination by the seaside.

At the dock, we were given instructions about staying safe aboard the vessel, including life vests.

I’m a great swimmer in shallow water (about waist height), but if you throw me any deeper, I’ll just swim majestically for about a minute then promptly sink. Throwing myself into the ocean with a piece of plastic was a really foolish idea, but then I thought, what would my Hive friends want me to do? Stay safe and sound on the boat or throw myself at the mercy of the sea to get some hot shots?

Soon the boat was gliding across the turquoise waters under a bright hot sun; out of the inlet and onto open ocean. The captain turned up the music tunes, and the boat swayed to the rhythm of the waves and energetic reggaeton beats.

What a ride! Up and down across the blue waves and beneath skies of tropical azure. We raced for over an hour until we sighted land in the distance, where I could see a horizon outlined with palm trees.

During the voyage, I asked one of the crew members if I could attach my camera to the life jacket while snorkeling, but he told me that the jacket had to be worn around the waist when swimming.

I was bummed out. My Olympus camera had underwater capabilities, which I had rarely used, so this was the perfect chance. Imagine traveling thousands of miles and not be able to use it?

https://peakd.com/hive-124838/@litguru/re-peaksnaps-sskos7 (snap of camera taking a bath)

As I was fiddling with my swimming trunks, I realized that they had an elastic loop inside a side pocket, maybe to attach one’s keys or something. I realized I could tie the camera strap to the elastic loop and secure it to my shorts. There was always the chance that it could get entangled in the water (and me with it), but the elastic was not too long, and I could always slip out of my shorts in an emergency. 😊

So without further ado, I hooked the camera to my shorts, strapped on my life jacket around the waist, and standing on the boat's lower deck, I jumped into the sea.

Random test shot

I had no idea what we were supposed to do, but soon I heard a whistle, and one of the crew members in the water called out, follow me! Sigan el guia!

He guided us to a spot near the rocky coast where we were supposed to look down through our masks. I realized that there would be no elegant way of doing this, so I pulled out my camera and began to shoot.

The elastic attached to the camera only allowed me to reach up to my chest (with pulled shorts). So, I wasn’t going to be able to shoot with the camera at eye level, through the view finder. So, I ended up shooting more or less from the hip as I tried to keep up with the rest of the group without my shorts coming off.

I did not worry about refined shots. I was more concerned about not drowning, as the water got into my mask a few times, so I had to lift it or blow it through the snorkel. Whenever I saw a fish, then I clicked clicked clicked. The task was made difficult because the guide was not stopping but kept swimming in a wide arc as we followed him at a brisk pace along the oceanside of the coast. I had to swim with one hand because I was holding the camera with the other.

I took a lot of shots but many of them did not turn out so well because they looked blurry or hazy. Where the sunlight struck from the surface, the subject was clear but otherwise everything had an underwater haze.

The Tough camera allows me to use different underwater settings to take photographs, and I’m almost certain that I used the wrong one for the conditions of that area. I’m still happy with some of the results. They’re tantalizing images of that marine world.

By the time I got back to the boat, I was beat. My arms were tired, and swimming with the life vest in an unusual position had put pressure on my back and pectoral muscles that may or may not have been rippling. 🙃

One of the crew members reached down and pulled me up to the boat. I came out dripping holding my phone in my hand like a wet seadog with a triumphant treasure.

I took this shot in underwater mode, so it accentuated the blue hues

A smaller boat came to pick us up to take us to the island and soon another adventure was underway. As the boat raced across the water, spraying ocean mist all around and blowing wind through my hair, I gripped my camera and held it tightly in my hand.

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Images by @litguru