I was fortunate enough to be invited on a cruise in May (yes, I am almost caught up on our adventures) to dive in the Cavalli Islands. With a few people from the lab, we packed into our cars and drove up the coast to Mangonui where in the fleeting light, we boarded the beautiful catamaran and motored off with the sun setting behind us. By nightfall, the boat was nestled safely in a cove where we enjoyed a wonderful meal, some laughs, and basked in the warm glow of the nearly full moon. Unfortunately, there still would not be the show of stars I had hoped due to the glow of the moon, but that would be the most one could complain about on this fantastic journey. After a decent nights sleep for some of us, I roused before the sun had risen. Bundled up in the cool Autumn air, I headed out with the Captain, who was the only other person vertical, and stood on the bow watching the last stars twinkle out as the light of the sun spread across the horizon.
Others started to awaken and eventually the Captain decided to pull the anchor and remove all hope of a quiet start to certain folks day. Off we trotted down the coast towards our destination, the Cavalli Islands, situated on the Eastern Coast of Northland. It was refreshing to be up before the sun, and to witness an unimpeded view as it rose like a ball of fire out of a reasonably tranquil sea. One can definitely see the allure of being a sailor when you get to witness such visions of simplicity and beauty, of something we tend to take for granted and do not take enough time in our lives to enjoy. The feeling of not having to be anywhere, not needing to be running off to meetings or doing errands, just to stand on the bow of a ship and watch as the darkness of night is warded away by an ever growing band fiery light rising from the horizon and clouds turning from a dark blue to a vibrant pink and then orange. Finally the sun shows itself, as a sliver of light on the horizon, much like the eye of a rousing person, but a slit at first, slowly widening until it is fully open and risen from slumber to cast its warming light to all it can see.
Eventually everyone started rising as we continued to approach our first dive site. We set the sail to get a bit more power and simply enjoy the nostalgic feeling of sailing the ocean, at least for me anyway! The morning light shone upon the beautiful cliffs and islands that dotted the coastline, passing the slowest waterfalls in the world where fog from a neighbouring valley poured slowly over the cliffs and down the sea. Eventually we found ourselves sitting round the tables and enjoying some breakfast as the last members of this little expedition rose from their beds. Around us, views of islands and vast blue skies greeted us as we entered the Cavalli Islands.
After breakfast and a bit more motoring, we arrived at our first dive site, nestled in the islands is the final resting place of a famous Greenpeace boat, the Rainbow Warrior, which had been bombed in New Zealand waters by French operatives. The ship was set afloat again and shipped from Auckland where it was bombed to the Cavalli Islands to be made into an artificial reef, a lasting tribute to the efforts of conservation that its crew had endeavored to perform before she was sunk. This was to be my first wreck dive which of course made it all the more exciting.
With our gear all donned, our large party of divers descended through the blue-green waters. There was a certain mystique about the idea of seeing a wreck, and although this one was deliberately sunk, there was still a bit of anxiety. As we passed twelve metres depth, a shadowy figure began to emerge out of the gloom, its steely exterior becoming increasingly contrasted against a now apparent sandy white bottom.
The exterior of the hull was covered in tiny algae as well as small anemones, hydroids, bryozoans, and other encrusting invertebrates. The deck and some of the upper parts of the hull were also home to a forest of kelp, their holdfasts dug into the now degrading hull.
We started by wandering around the hull of the ship, which was alive with numerous large fish, especially along the edge the hull where it met the sand. I apologize for the lack of pictures of this part, as I was still working out my new strobe. We did get to see the gaping hole where the bomb and broken the hull, it's interior was difficult to take pictures of but it was full of big-eyes, a type of fish that hides during the day, venturing out at night to feed. So abundant were they, that although you could see them dancing among the twisted metal, you could not see clear through to the other side.
As interesting as the fish were, I could easily have spent the entire time just staring at a square metre of the hull. Gorgeous anemones in oranges, whites, purples, blues, and pinks dotted everywhere, and were a spectacular sight. Even in the subdued light, they seemed to shine as gems encrusting this old ship, emulating the great worth of such structures as beacons of biodiversity and ambassadors of the ocean.
As we headed up to inspect the deck of the ship, I found the washports in the gunwale to be particularly fun to photograph through, seeing the numerous sponges and other encrusting animals towards to the outside where they framed the vanishing deck of the ship beyond.
The deck was less exciting from a marine invertebrates point of view, but the light was much better and you could see much of the ship. We poked our head into hatches and doorways, finding more big-eyes, and wandered through the flowing kelp. As for as a wreck goes, this was a great introduction, with it's simple exterior having no large dangerous metal pieces everywhere, or any structure that you would fear collapsing underwater. I of course was never tempted to enter the vessel, as the tight spaces would have lead to anxiety and a sudden reduction in my air supply! The outside was fine for me and it was wondrous!
Just before we left, we got a great excitement for many of the divers here. A scorpionfish was resting peacefully on the deck of the ship. Trying not to harass him, we all took turns moving in to get a picture, as they are a bit less common here compared to the numerous sculpin and searaven that frequent almost every dive I have ever done in the Bay of Fundy. As we rose slowly from our deep twenty metre dive, the ship slowly disappeared, melting into the blue abyss to await the next visitors hoping to gain some incite into this fantastic world I am privileged to work in.
No comments:
Post a Comment