On Thursday, July 23, 2009, the catamaran Hestia, that sailed 11 other teenagers and myself around the Netherland Antilles, arrived and moored at Ile Fourche, a scrub-covered, uninhabited island off of the coast of St. Bartholomew. The group’s excitement and apprehension increased as the day went on: tonight was to be our first night dive for the trip, and for the majority of us, it would be our first night dive ever. Claire, Hannah, and Ian, our group’s most experienced divers, helped to alleviate our fears and get us pumped for the coming adventure with magical tales of their past night dives. As the sun began to rapidly set over the island, we used the last rays of light to hook up our tanks, put our weights together, clean our masks, check our dive lights, and to attach glow sticks to our BCDs. When the sun finally sank below the horizon, the “Minnows”, (the newly certified divers) boarded the yacht’s dinghy with our instructor, Sarah, to begin their night dive. The “Sharks” and I, being the more experienced divers were forced to wait until later in the night to complete our dive. We waited on the trampolines of Hestia rather impatiently, watching the distant mooring ball for any signs of our emerging peers. When it became clear that this would not speed up our wait, we went to the bow of the boat where we passed the time watching the stars and with stories of home and our families that caused waves of nostalgia to wash over us.

The return of the “Minnows” jerked us back to the present after what seemed like an eternity, and we began chattering excitedly as we lugged our gear to the stern of the boat. I felt relief that the wait was over, yet also sheer terror at the fact that I would soon be submerged in utter blackness surrounded by unseen creatures. I forced a grin and hopped into the front of the dinghy. The short ride to the dive site was surprisingly quiet as we contemplated our fast-approaching adventure. When we were finally moored, I looked over the side into a black abyss, and thought, “I can’t believe I’m actually doing this! What is wrong with me?!” I felt my pulse quicken, and I started sweating despite the air being a balmy 75 degrees. Our dive leader told us to begin putting on and checking our gear, which is no small task in an inflatable boat that allows no elbow room. I, like most of the others, donned my mask and fins, inflated my BCD and dragged it into the water to put it on, which in hindsight contributed greatly to my anxiety. Once in the water with my dive light solely illuminating my dangling feet, my BCD snagged on my suit and I became tangled in its regulators and gauges. I floundered in the water until I finally shrugged into my vest with the help of a friend. I rolled on back and swam to the mooring line, watching the stars to calm my nerves. I met my dive buddy and room mate, Hannah, at the line and we checked each other’s gear. We gave each other the “OK” sign and as a group we grabbed the line and began our descent to the sandy bottom. 

As we approached our destination at thirty feet, I glanced to my right, and saw absolutely nothing, which was more frightening than if something was there: my imagination took over and filled my mind with barracudas, aggressive sharks, and monsters yet to be discovered. When we reached the bottom, we knelt around the mooring, and then set off as a group into the darkness. We swam along the bottom on the edge of a small reef that was eerily empty compared to the reefs that we swam in early in the day. At first it seemed utterly lifeless, however upon closer inspection we discovered rainbow parrotfish sleeping in crevices in the rocks, mating crabs dancing across the sand, stingrays gliding through the black water, a colossal barracuda prowling the reef for unsuspecting prey, and one ill-tempered, camera-shy eel. I was beginning to thoroughly enjoy the dive when our dive leader gave the group the signal to stop. She then proceeded to turn off her light, and indicated that we were to do the same. Before the dive she told us that we were going to do this in order to see bioluminescence, which is light created by microscopic organisms. I unhappily turned mine off with the others, and felt panic grip me. We started to swirl the water in order to churn up the plankton that made the light, and sure enough the creatures around us began to twinkle and magically light up the water like the night sky that towered thirty feet above us. Not long after, our leader turned on her light, and we began to swim back to the mooring line to begin our ascent. On our way back, we found the same pair of crabs right where we interrupted them, which caused me to smile to myself. When we broke the surface after what seemed like forever, but was actually merely thirty minutes, we all piled into the dinghy, with me, to my great displeasure, getting in last. Despite the fact that I had faced my fear of jumping into nothingness, I was still not quite comfortable being in the black water all alone.

When I got settled in the small boat, I shined my light on the surface to entertain myself while the boat was untied from the mooring. It was during this time that I saw someone’s fin floating on the surface about five feet away from us: it must have gotten knocked out of the boat when we were getting in. I told our leader, and was all set to lean over the side to grab it when the dinghy was untied and could motor over to it, when of course it started to sink into the dark water. I begrudgingly jumped in to retrieve it while holding the side of the boat, losing my grip in the process. I was successful and I threw the fin into the boat and scrambled like a cat trying to get out of a pool, to get back in myself. My friends helped to haul me in, and started congratulating me on my “rescue”. As I was hoisted from the black abyss by my life-jacket, I reflected on my latest plunge into the dark water, noting that although it was just as terrifying as the first time, my second jump seemed much more instinctive than the first. I stared at the stars as we left the dive site, my panic fading away as I filled with pride at my accomplishments of the night.

by Kelcie LaRoche