Holographic Fish and Unknown Depths
8th of May, 2023 / Cuervo de los Peces, Cuba
Clinging on to a rotting wooden post, shoved into some concrete, we edge off the rocky shoreline and into an impossibly clear sea. Stepping backwards slowly, I reverse until I’m chest high, then turn around to face four neoprene-covered bodies. Already having cuts from yesterday’s reef dive, I’m not impressed with my exposed knees in this shortie wetsuit and the salt stings the abrasions on my ankles. We descend where we are, so we can paddle beneath the swimmers and make a streamlined exit from the coast. I sink beneath the surface and am instantly surrounded by the Finding Nemo cast. With a water temp of 30℃, It’s not even refreshing, but the water clarity is an outstanding thirty metres. We follow the instructor through shawls of yellow-tailed fish, gradually increasing in depth. At six metres I glance up, recognise a pink bikini above me and wave at my aunt who’s snorkelling. We head deeper, the water almost as bright at ten metres as it was on the surface. We pass grunts and snappers and colourful little things I’ve never seen. Moving between sections of coral and sand, I notice the absence of sea urchins. Somehow a black pin cushion of an invertebrate is ten times more alarming than a shark. A trumpet fish shines in front of me, which looks like a seahorse that’s been ironed horizontally, and later, I’m greeted by holographic parrot fish.
The instructor bears left and we follow suit. We soar over an edge and lower another few metres. Movement in my peripheral catches my attention and I notice Neil fidgeting with his gauge. He asks me my air intake and I gesture a response. I can't tell if the gauge face is broken or if he’s lost air, but he signals ok and I make a mental note to stay at his side in case of a malfunction. Something big looms in front of us and without a depth gauge on my hired equipment, I have nothing to state how deep I am. I’m guessing that we’ve reached the twenty metre mark. As we edge closer, I realise it’s a shipwreck. It’s small for a wreck and we pass above it, peering down through large holes in the rusted metal of the body. This is really fucking cool. I want to dive down and track through the corridors and into the rooms, but that’s not part of today’s dive plan. Behind me, the Dutch couple film with large, complex cameras. We reach the end of the wreck and instantly glide into darkness. A vertical ten metre drop looms beneath. Neil floats slightly ahead and I use his body to quantify the magnitude of the landscape in front of me: a still, silent body of royal, cobalt and navy blue. Water stacked five houses high above us, and a drop where I can just about see the bottom.
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