Globechadder

On the past weekend, I am able to partake in my final Australian, end-of-week Melbourne removal. I make my way up to northern Queensland, to a town north of the Brisbane floods, Cairns (pronounced /ˈkɛə(r)nz). There is not much happening in this small, though rapidly expanding, coastal town that actually reminds me of some of the small fishing villages of the fantasy Role Playing Games (RPGs) that I once played. Cairns does maintain a sizable market for tourism, and there is ample activity for the avid outdoors enthusiast to enjoy. North of Cairns, in the tropical far north of Australia, resides the Daintree forests. At around 1200 square kilometres, the Daintree is the largest continuous area of tropical rain-forest on the Australian mainland.

In addition, there are many beautiful islands within one to two hours off shore of Cairns. Most of the islands are nationally protected and provide a secluded escape for the wealthy venturer’s holiday. These islands are generally located within the world’s largest natural reef system and the Earth’s greatest single structure made by living organisms, the Great Barrier Reef; the reef is so great that it can even be seen from outer space. This large, beautiful union of billions of organisms (coral polyps) is what I opt to see on my final escape. Lacking the time and expense for one of the local island retreats, I join a collection of divers and snorkelers to acquire a close look at two reefs. This occasion is both exciting and frightening for me, not only because the symphony of underwater colour and life is an amazing spectacle, but I am also faced with the shattering reality that I cannot swim.

As one might imagine, the ability to swim is generally a useful skill when bounding out into the Coral Sea, located in the middle of the southern Pacific Ocean. Not wanting to bypass on the opportunity, in accompaniment with the coaxing of many friends and my refusal to accept the defeat from water, I book my trip. It is after one and one-half hours that I arrive at my first reef, and as I lower my down to dress myself in my suit, soon followed by my flippers, I grow increasingly nervous. I take along my new best friend (a flotation noodle), close my eyes, dive in, and panic for dear life; though, I believe that I hide it well. Knowing that no good could result out of my panic, I stop so as to return to the surface and train myself to use the snorkel as intended, leaving useless nasal passages behind. After only a short while, I find myself swimming (noodle in hand) in every direction, exploring the coral from the water’s surface above. It takes time before I make attempts to submerge myself too far below the surface.

Some of the reefs are so near the water’s break that I fear collision with the protected animals. This first reef is the deeper of the two that I will explore this today, and my visibility breaks in-and-out with the partly cloudy day. Though no harmful animals live within the reef, I cautiously make my way through the water, looking down at the world that be beneath. Most of the reef is ten or more metres below, however the occasional mountain rises to a mere metre or two from my feet.

Making way to the shallower of the two reefs, some kilometers away, the clouds break; the array of colors and sea life become vividly visible from the vessel above. Zeus has shined a light so that we might see his brother’s stunning majesty below with brilliance. This reef is only three to four metres deep in most places, less in others, and the water is crystal. Schools of aquatic life have just as much, or more, colour as the reef on which it feeds and I even catch a glimpse of an aimless green turtle wandering through our path.

As we begin out trio back to land, I have a couple of glasses of wine and make some attempt at getting a tan before going home to a cold winter. I am very pleased that I let myself be coerced into taking this short holiday to the Coral Sea. As of completing the journey, I actually do now wish that I might have incorporated an introductory dive into the day; this remains an intent for the future. As for my lack of swimming skills, I have already been assured that this handicap will be relieved with the approaching Atlanta summer and with any luck, I will be more prepared in Mexico when I make way around the Riviera Maya and Yucatán Peninsula this come June. If my skills are not improved, I obviously have only Nic to blame for my poor training.