Enriching Times

I have continued to journey to the Caribbean giving talks, and adding new places to stop such as Antigua (Waladii) and Grenada (Camajuya). I’m in the company of magicians, dancers, yoga instructors, Broadway stars, world class comedians, musicians, and the star of one of my favorite TV shows when I was a kid. It makes for quite a nomadic grouping of fascinating people. I love that my job description and title specifically include the words enrichment, entertainment, and fun. How often in life are we specifically tasked with enriching the lives of others?

While sailing between islands I’m determined to push myself further with more intense exercise, plus yoga and dance classes. Some of the dancing has been more than I could pick up easily. It seemed ironic that I faced my fears on a steep zipline, yet was defeated by a salsa class. But every day, I improve. And every day I give a talk, I learn more about the fascinating people I am with. They come and show me photographs they have taken after my class on photography. We talk about food choices after my talk on healthy eating. It feels like we are all lifting each other up.

I was last in Dominica (Wai‘tu kubuli) a few months back. I enjoyed a walk in the rainforest, and a swim under a waterfall. This time, I stayed by the coast. I spent the morning strolling Roseau, the small capital city, enjoying the markets. Minivans were everywhere, operating as buses for the rest of the island, cramming people in and disgorging others – too many, to my eyes, to be able to fit. The buses needed to be tiny to negotiate the little streets, already packed with cars with trunks open selling food.

In the afternoon, wedged into the corner of a minivan, finally understanding how they did the impossible – fold-down center aisle seats, and a disregard for personal space – I headed out on the winding coastal road through beautiful little fishing villages, to Scott’s Head. A marine reserve at the southwestern edge of the island, it is where the Caribbean Sea meets the Atlantic Ocean. The whole route winds under towering volcanic mountains draped in greenery – a gorgeous rainforest, especially impressive when you reach the end of the road and look back. As I stood between a sea and an ocean, I found it hard to believe somewhere could be so beautiful.

I was there to evaluate a guest excursion – and was accompanied by Marq, the cruise director, taking some rare time away from the ship we’re both working on. We began with a swim over the reef, accompanied by fantastic guides. My capabilities as a freediver seem to have improved in recent months. Entranced by the coral below, teeming with brightly-colored fish, I kept heading down as deep as my ears would allow. The guides said I should consider signing up for the freediving course offered on the island. I know I would enjoy it. As much as I enjoy SCUBA, there is something thrilling about heading down on a single breath, aided only by flippers and mask.

I realized I hadn’t really felt like this particular journey away from home was truly underway until I was underwater. I had spent days at sea, enjoying its ever-changing wonder. But I needed to be in it.

I glided along the lower lips of coral edges, enjoying the fish looking curiously at me as I passed through schools of them. The coral made its usual snapping and popping noises. An upwelling of tiny jellyfish passed all around me, too numerous to avoid, too tiny to sting me. I spotted a Hawksbill sea turtle meandering far below, and pointed it out to the group. The woman next to me shot past and down – she works at a Texas-based turtle rescue organization, it turns out, and was delighted.

I dove over and over again, enjoying the effect as coral that looked ghostly and blue from the surface bloomed into vivid color when I placed my face next to it.

And this was just the first stop of the day. There was time for one more.

I would not have considered diving on a coral reef around sunset to be worth it until that moment. The light shafts in angles through the water, a beautiful effect, but far less illuminating than midday. To see a seventy-foot reef dropoff in late afternoon, however, brings out its majesty. Coral close to the surface glows in the orange light and then the volcanic cliff, as steep as the mountains close to the beach, drops into a blue abyss. To float and hover over the drop, weightless, is awe-inspiring.

Best of all, however, were the bubbles. The area is named Champagne Beach, and for good reason. Dominica is a young island, volcanically formed, with Earth’s forces straining beneath it. Volcanic thermal springs on the ocean floor surprised me with upwellings of hot water, and streams of bubbles emerging from crack-laden rocks. I swam through the bubble streams, and felt them cluster under my palms when I temporarily halted their rise. I was in the center of a process as Earth continued to flex and change. Best of all, the sunset light reached underwater and illuminated the bubbles in gold as they rose. It was like being inside a glass of Veuve Clicquot.

As the sun set, we raced back to the ship which was preparing to leave – not that it would leave without the cruise director unless it had to – and marveled at the day. It was dark when we left not long after, heading for morning, and another island.

I’ve wound up in St Maarten (Soualiga) three times in the last few months with this job – and I’ll be back again very soon. Each time has been a remarkable experience. Driving a speedboat between two countries (the Dutch part and the French part of the island), plunging down the world’s steepest zipline from the peak of a high mountain, swimming in turquoise waters –those were wonderful experiences, but they were planned. This time was a surprise.

After four days on four different islands, ziplining, freediving, and tubing down a river, I’d planned for a less adventurous day. I headed to a coffee shop by the beach to work on some book research. But on the way I received a generous last-minute invite – to join a schooner crew and do some freediving in a rather unique location. The schooner’s proceeds support the K1 Britannia Foundation and their youth initiatives on the island. I needed no persuading.

The schooner headed to a dive site with special objects placed there to explore. There’s an entire helicopter down there. A submarine wreck. And a grouping of full-size human figures.

The water was choppy and cloudy – not ideal for freediving – and it wasn’t possible to see these targets from the surface. Instead, once a crewmember pointed out the general location, I headed down on a breath of surface air, into a green mist. It was eerie when the blades of a helicopter appeared, followed by the body. The submarine hatch loomed into view just as mysteriously. Strangest of all, however, was coming nose to nose with the human faces of statues, only visible in the final seconds of approach. It could have felt quite scary.

We passed Maho Beach, famous for being at the end of the airport runway. Folks regularly gather there to be knocked over by the jet blast or watch skull-scrapingly close passenger jets come in for landing. I was amazed by the steep angle the jets took coming in for landing, pulling up only at the last moment.

Most of all, I enjoyed just being out on the open water. I climbed up to the top deck of the ship, and jumped off holding my equipment, military-style, to begin my swim. At the end of the dive time, the crew encouraged me to clamber along the bowsprit and jump from there too. It’s hard to gauge how much a ship is rising, falling, and rolling in the water until you are standing on the very nose. It’s more than you think until you are out there. It’s scary, and makes it hard to time a jump into the water. But I enjoyed it so much I did it twice.

Transferring from the schooner back to the enormous cruise ship, I reflected on two very different sailing experiences. I was about to be out of sight of land for three days.