The traverse

We entered the water at a site called Andrea 2. It's a beach in an upper-class neighborhood, marked with nothing more than a small rock that had been spray-painted yellow. You could easily miss the site - in fact, we did the first time we drove past. 

Underwater selfie with my husband, Carl.

We hauled our tanks from the gravel parking lot to the beach, past the Australian labradoodle and his Dutch owner lounging in the sun, over the slippery, algae-covered rocks, past the spines of hundreds of sea urchins, onto the sand, and into the waves. Clip, clip, bungee, bungee, right fin, left fin, mask. Dive.

I settled into a rhythm pretty quickly. Sometimes, my mammalian dive reflex feels like it takes an eternity to kick in, but today it was right there when I needed it. Long breaths, slow heart beat, perfect neutral buoyancy, lazy kicks. I was in the zone. 

We swam for three and a half hours. I had never been as far north as Andrea 2, so the first part of the dive was new territory for me. Corals covered the slope as I hovered silently and weightlessly above. Kick, drift, kick, drift, while the living ecosystem bustled beneath. 

Eventually, we reached a land mark that I recognized: the desalination plant. Bonaire gets all of its water from the sea, so there's a relatively large reverse osmosis plant right on the shore. We swam over a thick anchor chain that lay perpendicular to the coast, and I knew exactly where we were. The coral cover declined, and the fish nearly disappeared. It's a local impact but still very noticeable.

As we swam along, I noticed something hazy in the distance to my right. My husband took a hard turn and headed down deep to investigate. I followed. This wasn't here before, I thought. Resting on the sand at the bottom of the reef was a barge - not a large one, and very much intact. We swam a lap around the structure and surveyed the steel. No corals, just encrusting sponges and rust. My husband turned to face me in the water and shrugged. Must be a new wreck, we agreed.

We swam back up to our cruising depth and pressed onward to the south. As we left the immediate area around the desalination plant, the coral cover returned to normal. This time, I looked to my left. Above us, a sheer vertical wall extended almost to the surface. I've never understood why, but the bathymetry of the reef in this area gets super steep. I could see plate-like corals extending out from the wall, hoping to catch rays of sunlight. It's a really fascinating area. 

We were getting close to our destination. Soon, I could see the remains of a small boat turned upside-down on the reef. This wreck had been there for a while, and I knew it well. Fire corals covered the edges; mounding corals spotted the surface; and squirmy little brittle stars abounded in the crevices. 

Christmas tree worms (Spirobranchus giganteus) living in a coral

Eventually, we reached the arrow. A giant white arrow pointing unmistakably to our dive resort. We had made it - but not quite. After three and a half hours at 25 m deep and a short excursion much deeper, we had accumulated some decompression. Rising to the top edge of the reef, we hovered while the dissolved gases left our blood. I used the chance to search for cryptic diversity - the tiny organisms that hunker in crevices and hide under rocks. My efforts were rewarded by a few interesting finds. 

By the time I emerged from the water, I was exhausted. It was a great dive, and I'm proud that we made such an ambitious traverse!