Oct. 18, Friday
There is NO WAY I saw sea snakes today. No way.
But…ew. What the hell ARE those things??!
We arrived on Lifou in New Caledonia on an absolutely perfect morning. PERFECT. The air was fresh, the breeze was light, the sunlight sparkled on the water like a generous jeweler had scattered trunks full of diamonds across a gray-green sea. There was a lot of up-and-downing with the shore authorities and our landing got pushed back by half an hour OOH WHICH REMINDS ME!
I downloaded the few pathetic underwater photos I took from the drift snorkel we did off the coast of Moso in Vanuatu, which I present to you here with apologies for just how poor the quality is:
Fins in the Zodiak. Once we’re all togged up and waiting for the all-clear to jump into the water, our flippers overlap with the people on the other side of the boat. This entertains me.
Kura announcing the delight of a very modest pink starfish.
As Twig’s snorkel buddy, this is the scene I’m constantly looking for. Where’s my buddy? Where’s my pal? THERE she is! (Often I’d find Twig vertical in the water because she had to clear her mask so often.)
Look! A ray! I confess that this is NOT one of the astonishingly blurry photos that I took; this is the one Kura took. Is there NOTHING my girl-crush can’t do?!
A lone photograph of I have no idea what, but at least it’s not hopelessly blurry. The trouble with this photograph is that in reality, there’s very little that is blue on a coral reef. I don’t know why my poor underwater photography looks like I have a blue filter on the camera. These colors are entirely wrong.
And this is the final photo I took before I realized I’d drained the battery entirely. To take a foolish giggle-photo of myself in my snorkel mask and THEN realize I’d wasted the last shot without capturing the ethereal beauty of a sea star or the chromacolor insanity of some brilliant fish… Thank GOD we didn’t see a dugong because I would have had to kill myself in remorse for missing that photo because I took a bug-eyed selfie!
Did I already show you this photo that Harry took of two boobies that took a breather on the ship's sticky-up bits?
Okay—back to Lifou:
New Caledonia was almost the stop we didn’t make; they’ve been going through tremendous political upheavals and Lindblad had already told us weeks ago that we’d skip the islands. But something somewhere got settled (and yes, I’m embarrassed that I know so little about world events that I can’t tell you what they were upset about) and the Orion was the first cruise ship into the port since May. They were extremely pleased to see us. We were given woven crowns:
Here's a video of just part of their welcoming ceremony.
Twig, Harry, and I signed up to do the forest and secret grotto tour, which walked us VERY slowly along a woodland path just covered in bromeliads, which is to say plants growing entirely on other plants.
It was lovely and the guides explained the medicinal effects or uses of many of the trees we saw. Plus they took us down an entirely unsafe path into a cave dripping with stalactites and stalagmites which was an example of where people used to live “before the church came to the island,” after which everyone had to move into tidy houses where the priests could keep an eye on things…
Here's what I love about a Lindblad tour: It is inevitably the polar opposite of a life lived in the presence of lawyers. We were sent down lava rocks slick with mud into a cave with very little clearance. We tiptoed between the snaking roots of massive trees. We poked our stupid fingers at the massive claws of a juvenile coconut crab, even knowing that those claws were entirely capable of snipping that finger off without hesitation.
No lawyers. No guard rails. No tidy board paths over the rough places. Sometimes someone would say “watch out—it’s slippery here,” but for the most part you’re on your own to find your way. Of course the Lindblad staff will leap like mountain goats up and down cliffs to lend a helping hand and we are all expected to know our own limits—but if you want sturdy boardwalks or helpful photos instead of actual coconut crabs, then you’re on the wrong trip.
Our guide, Roderick, spoke French and the local version of Maori. He conducted the tour in English with great persistence. He was a sweetheart, and at some point the subject of snakes came up. (Not surprising; we were wandering through very dense forest.)
No, no, said Rod. We have only three snakes and the two on land are the boa and the python—very friendly. Not venomous. Several wits in the group took the occasion to note that the friendly boas and pythons just wanted to give us all a warm hug; so witty.
We have only one venomous snake and it is in the sea, Roderick went on. Very friendly. Very deadly. But don’t worry—when they see you in the water, they will—wwwffffff—swim away. They are extremely fast. I looked it up on the laptop when I got back. Here's a creepy photo:
Guh. Like, where are those venomous snakes, Rod? Because we’re supposed to go snorkeling after this.
Oh, just in the harbor. You will be fine. There are lots of turtles to see. You will love it.
Once the tour was over, we had one of those Lindbladian moments where everyone is so laid back and rigidly flexible that no one knew what we were supposed to do. One of the guides from our trip came to find why we were all standing around at the port. Where are we supposed to snorkel, Brenda?
She looked at us as if we were crazy and flapped her hand at the beach before us. “In the water?” she replied, questioning our sanity.
So into the water I went. I was hot and sweaty from the forest humidity, and the water in the harbor was so clear and green that it looked like Jello. Does that seem crazy? But it did—it had an almost gelled quality to its clarity. So I did the endless dance. Lightweight shirt off, swim shirt on. Reef-safe sunblock spread where it needed to go. Sneakers and socks ditched. Hat placed over the water bottle. Snorkel and mask retrieved from the large bag, and both fins. Off to the water at last, no other Lindbladians anywhere around.
The entry was sand barely covering what felt like ten million cobblestones; it was an exceptionally awkward entry. Finally I got into about two, maybe three feet of water and just sat down to work on putting on my fins. Waves kept pushing me backwards, but I persisted. At last I tangled my mask in quite a lot of hair, got the snorkel in my mouth, and pushed off.
My large belly was skimming over the rocks, but there was enough water for clearance. Some interesting fan-shaped plants on the rocks. And there was a—
--fuck me. Eight inches long, dark and white ring stripes, snaky shape. God DAMN it, is that one of the poisonous sea snakes? Why the hell isn’t it swimming away? I veered sharply away, only to have to veer back when a second snake appeared.
Now seriously: Was I seeing a whole nest of juvenile snakes? IS this what I saw?
Or were they a pipefish mimicking the snake? Given that I saw five of them before freaking out entirely and motoring back to shore, I’m quite sure they weren’t snakes. I mean, I’m pretty sure…
I was in the water for maybe five minutes, and three of those were trying to get my fins on. Then I confessed—to Rebecca the ship’s hotel manager, to Twig and Harry, to Kura and Tua, to Heather the New Zealand guide—that I had lost my nerve entirely and that I was done snorkeling. Rebecca, Twig, and Harry all said immediately, “I’m not going in.” Kura, Tua, and Heather smiled at me kindly and told me I was right to get out of the water, even though it was clear they didn’t believe me.
And I’m sure they were right. I didn’t really see a whole flock of sea snakes. But GUH. I was wigged.
And now we have a day at sea followed by a stop at Norfolk Island. We’re sailing out of tropical waters and into cooler seas and I suspect we’ve done our last snorkeling on the journey. Frankly, I’m okay with that. I HAVE LOST MY NERVE! I’m entirely ready for a peaceful day at sea, which I intend to spend napping!
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