Holding on for dear life!

There was that time when I went scuba diving at the Galapagos Islands in Ecuador (and realised that, no, I was infact not over my fear of breathing under the water dispite having a Padi Open Water which I had used on two occasions before). We did a test dive, which is common practice when you are going out with divers who hav not had a dive in a year or so. I was surprised to find that I actually didn't feel comfortable breathing under water (something I had struggled with during my training in the Red Sea, Egypt).

Fortunately, comfort soon took over and a beautiful dive lay ahead of us. Now, we had put off the dive for a few days due to bad weather causing low visibility (and hence, bad dives). When we finally decided to go for it, visibility wasn't at its best, but it was decent. We had really strong currents due to diving in an underwater canal, so most of the dive consisted of hanging off an underwater cliff and holding on for dear life! I remember our dive instructor almost kicked off my mask by accident.

Regardless the strong currents, this was also the first (and so far the only) time I got to dive with hammerhead sharks. We didn't see many, but I remember one very large one swam passed os. With the low visibility the shark was more of a large, clear shadow in the water, but the shape of the head (and size, c'mon) gave it away.

Yet the most memorable experience for me was when we were slowly ascending back to the surface. It was the most peaceful I have ever felt in water. I couldn't see anything safe for my dive mates and instructor. Nothing else appeared to be in the water (although we knew quite well what was there - we had just seen it!). I had the feeling on being a fetus in a womb, enclosed in a sacred little world that nothing could break. The ascend seemed to last forever and I was just gorging on the sensation of being weightless and lifted through the "air". Whenever I looked up I could hardly see the surface (exactly how far down had we gone?!). Eventually though, we resurfaces and the outside world came back. What a shame.

My little reef shark who just wouldn't cooperate with me!

There was that time I had the most amazing sight while cruising in the Galapagos. I had gone on a four day cruise on "Princess of Galapagos" (Now, this name really makes the boat sound more impressive than it was). We made many stops between the islands, often snorkeling around the boat in the clear water which was rich with Galapagos life - y'know, the kind you should be ridiculously lucky to come across anywhere else.

I can't remember for the life of me which island we were swimming around that day (although I believe it was the one that also had the little plants called "Tequilia" - a name which I still remember years later only because it sounds almost exactly like "Tequila"). The water was warm and clear, and the group had fun jumping off the roof of the boat. I started swimming toward the coast line cliffs which were really close by. Sealions were abundant and they were incredibly intrusive. I swam with them for minutes, playing while desperately trying to keep up with them, since I really wasn't made for life in the sea and my swimming abilities sorta faded next to them. Eventually, they left me behind (no hard feelings here), and I went to play with a giant sea tortoise which swam at a far more forgiving pace. The tortoise too seemed to like having me around, which was acutally the most astonishing characteristic of all of these animals. They seemed completely unbothered by humans, which really made it our responsability to refrain from touching them. It suited me well though.

I split with my new tortoise friend when our guide cried "shark!" (in the good way - not in the "get the **** out of the water!"- way...because who really believe sharks to be a menace to people these days?). I hurried toward the place the guide had pointed out. Sure enough, there was a beautifull little reef shark. I really wanted to get just a little closer, so I tried repeatedly to take deep breaths and swim to the bottom (which I imagine made me look ridiculous - it just couldn't be done!). It was hopeless, I could not get myself farther down than a few metres, and then I had to go up for air, as I was fighting like crazy just to get down. But all the time I was pulled back up. Seemed like it just wasn't meant to be and I eventually settled for a picture taken from the surface and down (it's not like the shark was much of a social creature trying to work with me anyway).

But then, soon after, I suddently noticed that almost my entire group of travel mates were howering over the exact same spot in the water that looked darker than the rest of the sea. I swam to where they were, then put on my snorkel and looked down through the water. The sight was amazing. An enormous steam of fish was circling just a few metres below us. So that's what had made the water in that area look dark! I just stared at it, mesmerized, until our of the blue, the core of the steam broke and I saw a buch of large reef sharks hunting right underneath them. Wow!

When my mask had filled with water, I had to get my head above water again to clear it. I took it off to refit it, as it wasn't really my size or shape (funny how that concept of having your head above water, not looking and knowing there are sharks right beneath you is only frightning in movies or dreams). Once ready, I pluched my head right back in to observe the amazing scenario that was unfolding beneath me. Eventually though, both the steam and the sharks left us, but the memory of having witnessed such a beatiful moment will stay with me forever!

The volcano itself was nice too...but the real beauties of the mountain are down below!

There was that time I experienced first hand a real "circle of life" moment worthy of National Gepgraphic in Baños, Ecuador. My travel mate, Jim, and I spent the day trekking up a volcano on the outskirts of the town, and on the way up we came upon a paralysed baby tarantula being dragged away by a massive winged blue insect - nice!

It would get better though: on the way down, we met a similar giant winged blue insect - but this time, that was no baby tarantula it was dragging across our path, it was a fully grown adult! This massive majestic hairy spider lay paralysed and helpless while an insect inferior to it in size was struggling to drag it across the path and over the hight grass. We stood mesmerised and unwilling to walk away from the amazing event - although I'm sure it must have felt a whole lot less amazing to the powerless spider who was about to have an insect eat it alive and leave eggs to hatch in the empty shell of its body - now, go write a song about that, Disney!

There was that time I went bungy jumping on a bridge in Baños. The bridge itself wasn't so much the crazy part (althought it looked plenty frightening on its own!), as was the fact that the "bungy cord" they were using for this jump did seem to be quite as elastic as the normal bungy cords. To be fair, they did put a harness on me, which was much more than what they gave me at my first bungy jump in Thailand, where the bungy cord was wrapped around my ankles and tried with a knot and velcro (no harness!). But when I first jumped, I did feel the the "landing" in mid air was surprisingly rough, and when I did a second jump right after (because discount), the landing caused a jolt in my neck that scared me off from going a thrid time (shame, really, as I could have gotten the third jump for just five dollars - but then again, how much quality can you expect for that price?). Still, the view from atop the bridge was amazing!