A Kraken Lives Here

Living on a tropical island changes your perspective towards nature. On an island that relationship to Mother Nature is much more intimate and vital because it rules so much of your everyday life. The ocean is the barometer that sets the tone for everyone on the island. If the waters are calm, the island is safe, but when those same waters are agitated, and a storm arrives, everyone is concerned for their well being.

When I first arrived in The Bahamas, I started calling the waters surrounding all the islands, Momma Ocean. It just seemed right. Here was this powerful, incredible, aquamarine force that gave life to millions of creatures. What other names could even come close to describing her power and beauty? And what name could I say that would instantly invoke respect?

Momma Ocean said it all, or at least it did to me.

I was lucky enough to live in The Bahamas, on New Providence island, where Nassau is, for just a shade under three years.

During that time, I travelled to some of the other "family islands" that make up this incredible archipelago country.

On one of those islands, Long Island, I came face to face with the single, most terrifying bit of natural beauty I've ever experienced. 

The ironic thing about my encounter is that it also marks the most jaw-dropping gorgeous piece of mother nature that I've enjoyed in my lifetime.

The picture you see above this story is that of Dean's Blue Hole. It's located just west of Clarence Town on Long Island. An island in The Bahamas. 

Besides, being absurdly gorgeous, it's also the world's second deepest Blue Hole, with a depth of 663 feet.

That's really, really, deep.

I was on Long Island helping my best friend, who's from Nassau, celebrate his 50th birthday along with his family.

It was on a staggeringly hot day in July when this picture was taken with my Sony ICLE 6000 camera. The image itself has not been retouched in any way; the blues are the ocean's real colours. 

Before I went swimming, I wanted to take some shots of the surrounding area. The threat of saltwater and blowing sand getting into your camera is a constant one. 

It was a typical eye-watering sunny day. The kind The Bahamas specializes in, just seeing the image in your viewfinder, is a minor miracle. I took a few pictures of the hole and my friends swimming before the heat of the day, and my continually leaking eyes made it impossible for me to take anymore.

One of the most incredible things about Dean's Blue Hole is that it is yet to be ruined by the tentacles of commercialization. 

What you see, what you encounter, is simply staggeringly raw nature, with no allowances for personal safety.

In other words, if you want to experience the Blue Hole and the surrounding area, you do so at your own personal risk. And yes, some people have unfortunately died swimming there.

There aren't any stairs. There are no souvenir shops. You won't find any lifeguards, warnings, or any of those other trappings of our North American overzealous approach towards nature that we seem to take at every opportunity.

I almost fell several times, while climbing to the top of the hill to look down and get a wide shot of the Blue Hole. The surrounding area is extremely rocky. The waxy green plants are painfully sharp along their edges, and the footing is uneven everywhere. 

In other words, simply perfect.

Getting to the Blue Hole itself is something out of an Indiana Jones movie. Roads are that in name only. Very few signs exist, and the ones that do are next to impossible to find or read because they've been weather-beaten for years, and no one bothers to replace them. And if you don't have a truck or a jeep, forget it, stop right now, you won't make it. Your car will bottom out.

Even at the sedate pace of 20mph on some roads, your vehicle is rocking back and forth like you're on some kind of shaky amusement ride lasting too long.

But, when you finally do get there, and when you finally decide to go in for a swim around the Blue Hole, well then my friend, you are meeting mother nature in her pure form. 

Unspoiled, wild, temperamental and gorgeous.

I'm not the greatest of swimmers, but I can get by. Most of the waters around the shores of any Bahamian island are criminally perfect in terms of temperature. They're not so cold that it takes you three or four attempts to dive in, and they're also not so warm, so as you don't feel refreshed after swimming in them. They are that sweet spot in between.

The Bahamas are known worldwide for their crystal clear aquamarine waters, and Dean's Blue Hole doesn't disappoint. These incredible waters have made it one of the world's best diving and snorkelling sites. 

And because the hole is inside an inlet, the waters are calm, and you don't feel any wind, so swimming in and around the hole is quite easy, except.

Except when you get near Dean's Blue Hole itself. Then something incredible and frightening happens. The water changes, gone is that perfect temperature. The waters cool down and turn a deeper, inky blue kind of colour. Even the fish, of which there are many colourful tropical ones, have an instant reaction. While swimming around the hole's lip, I watched as these cute little silvery fish would swim, as fish are prone to do, without a care in the world, flittering about. Still, when they came close to the blue hole's lip, they would zip the other way like they were about to be eaten.

"A Kraken lives at the bottom!" My friend shouted to me while I was treading water around the lip of the hole, debating if I would swim over the hole. 

The Kraken is a legendary massively giant squid-like sea monster from Scandanavian myths that brought whole ships down to their destruction with its creepy sea monster tentacles.

"Funny!" I shouted back to my pal, who was still swimming closer to the hole then I was. 

He's probably right, something ancient and monster-like lives down there. I thought to myself, deciding in that instant that I didn't have the courage to swim over the hole.

I know it's absurd. Sea monsters are myths. But, I did not and would not swim over the Blue Hole for fear of waking something up. Or even worse, somehow being disrespectful to the hole's keeper and suffering the destructive and horrible consequences.

Don't get me wrong. I was scared, but I know a once in a lifetime opportunity when I'm swimming in it.

I spent the next several hours blissfully swimming around the area, exploring absolutely everything I could, except for Dean's Blue Hole itself. I even did a bit of snorkelling, which is so spectacular that you find yourself trying to shout, "Oh my god, this is gorgeous!" underwater.

The whole area feels untouched, unspoiled and magical. 

Even amongst Bahamians, Long Island is considered too rustic and challenging to get to because of its remote location. You never feel crowded or rushed. You're allowed to have an incredible one on one natural experience and not have to wait in line for a ticket to experience it.

I know one day I'll get back there. I've made a lifetime of friends in The Bahamas, and the islands will always be a second home for me, even when I'm not living there.

I just don't know if I'll ever have the courage to explore Dean's Blue Hole, but that's okay.

Sometimes love, and respect for nature go hand in hand, and for Momma Ocean and me, that's our relationship, and I'm not about to mess it up.