First Contact

The creature slowly glided from left to right. An empty black eye, dark like charcoal, looked straight at me. I felt a cold shiver run over my back as it suddenly struck me: this place wasn't as peaceful and safe as it had seemed to be ...

Another hot day in paradise. The light reflecting on the pearly colored sand made my eyes water. High up in the air above the beach was a blistering sun, and I quickly walked towards the water's edge to find some refreshment from the blue ocean in front of me. The plan for the afternoon was simple but enticing: first some snorkeling, then a rest on the beach, and later that night there was going to be dinner with a friend in a fancy open-air restaurant. Not too bad at all for an average Saturday.

The beach was deserted. This small island where I was staying, named Bird after the roughly one million Sooty Terns coming back here every year to nest, had room for merely 50 people. The total length is no more than half a mile, so everywhere you looked there was this big ocean all around; just a little green speck in the vast loneliness of water. The only sound was that of the waves breaking on the narrow and steep stretch of sand, combined with the shrill cries of the Terns. This place is as pure as it gets. No buildings anywhere, only sand and water; hundreds of birds flying to and from the sea in search for fish to feed their young. It feels like before civilization; like time travel. Standing there by myself I tried to imagine how this place must have looked a thousand years ago. Most likely exactly the same.

I plunged into the water and put on my snorkeling gear. My skin, that had been hot from the sun, relaxed by the touch of the soothing water, and although the water was pretty warm, for a brief moment a slight shiver came over me. After adjusting the mask and snorkel to my face I put my head in the water and looked out for an interesting spot. On the left appeared a shallow channel, and between the dunes of green sea grass and coral I could already see some bright colored fish. Kicking the flippers I made my way over there in the hope to discover more.

There appeared to be all sorts of live in the channel: small fish in bright yellow and deep blue, bigger Parrot Fish with their distinguished beak-shaped mouth, and on the side in a bush of anemones there was even a bright orange clownfish popping out its head to look out for danger. Some transparent Needle Fish glided by, clearly not interested in me being there, and moved along until they became one again with the haze of the ocean.

I became aware how a somewhat chilly current slowly pushed me further down the channel. After some time, passing behind a corner, it gave out on an open space with a floor of white sand, some hundred feet across. The atmosphere here was different: no small fish anymore, not the protected feeling of the shallow reef. This was open water. On both left and right there were the green hills of sea grass and coral, here and there interrupted by small openings leading back into the shallow. When I looked ahead there was a breathtaking site.

At the end of the open space the sea bed disappeared. The bright clear water slowly changed into