by Shauna King
My stomach churns and I don't quite know how to handle the situation from here. My social skills have left me stranded. I respond in the best way I can think of, by running away as soon as possible.
“I'm sure they would. Look, I'd better get on. I have a long process ahead. Please excuse me,” I announce coolly and politely, ending our hard-going conversation.
I turn and march off, to the rear of my car, full of earthly righteousness and a good dose of self-importance. And in truth I do have an important job to do. The small eco-communities surviving in these isolated and self-sufficient caves are so precious, and dependent on minimal human intervention. And although I'm very aware I'm human and intervening, it is purely on the basis of research and conservation. Not for fun, or to be daring or taking pretty photographs to brag about and send to my friends
I hear the sister whisper something and she giggles, and he replies with a louder laugh. No doubt they're making fun of me, but I guess I deserve it. And basically, it doesn't matter what they think, they're just passing through my day. I just wish they weren't here this particular day.
The two of them busy themselves with transporting the equipment to the near side of the pond.
I carry my tanks round to the opposite beach side, studiously ignoring them. The air tanks weigh quite a lot, but I make light work of it. I might look so slender that I'd snap in a gentle wind, I muse humorously, but I'm strong as a ox and very fit.
As I stand on the beach, I notice he's watching me, sneaking a few quick looks, out of the corner of his eye, as I strip down to my black speedo swimsuit and drag on my wet suit. I really don't mind him looking, because there's not much of me to see. I'm fast, suiting up with the speed of a surfing pro. Then I put on my fins, slip my arms into the tank pack and position my mask. Picking up my underwater camera, and switching on the mask lamp, I'm ready. Without a word or a look in their direction, I wade and then plough head first into the water, disappearing from their view beneath the algae covered surface of the sink. I'm guessing I have ten minutes until they join me and I'm making the most of my small window of solitude.
Kicking down, the rapidly increasing coolness of the water floods my mind with calm. As soon as I enter this world I start to chill and relax. I understand completely what James means, when he explained how he relaxed in the caves. Nothing can be done quickly, as the resistance and temperature of the water makes actions slow and precise. You have time to think about what you do. It is one of the things I like most about diving. The enforced slow pace. I swim down, to a depth of twenty feet or so, to the bottom of the pond and into the canyon like fissure spanning it. According to the cave statistics file I read earlier, this canyon is five feet wide and forty feet long. I pass short depths of a good seventy odd foot, looking down into clear water with a cobalt hue. I sweep my strong headlight from side to side, hoping to see living things. But very little appears to be living in the higher part of the descent. A tiny shrimp, and some micro organisms here and there, but no more. I know that this sink can often run dry, almost to the bottom, even in times of light drought, and this can affect dependent life forms which migrate to a lower depth permanently to avoid the changes in water level.
I look around for and find the pale orange guideline, as described in the guide file, lain down and left, by some unnamed exploratory diver in the past. It isn't necessary for me to use a guideline, but the canyon is wider in some parts than others and the line lays in a straight line, down the middle, making the descent easier, quicker and smoother and I want to get down there, as fast as I can. I enter the center of the fissure and start the descent proper. Every so often I stop, to adjust the air mixture I'm breathing, with the increasing depth and pressure, and to allow a few moments for my body to acclimatize. My mind is open, ready to absorb the unknown in my exploration of this underwater world. I've never been here before and so far, even on the approach route to the cave chamber, its dark and hidden natural beauty has already captured my heart.
How I love the inky blackness surrounding me. It's comforting despite the growing cold. The darkness hides this part of the world away, keeping it a wonderful secret from humanity. From most of humanity, anyway.
I follow the guideline down to a depth of one hundred and fifty feet to where it opens into the shallow side end of a very large chamber.
Oh how wonderful...
My face breaks into a wide smile, and my heart responds with pleasure. Actually it's beyond beautiful. My headlamp is aimed up at the roof of the cave. I sweep it down through the gin-clear water into the pitch blackness below. It's a deep cave, some parts are mapped at two hundred and fifty feet. But although deep, there are no human sized exits or lead off channels in here. No chance to get lost. That's always a fear with divers. That they'll become disorientated, in the channels and run-throughs, and get lost and run out of air. Most dive in pairs if they plan to explore beyond the usual boundaries. The sensible ones, anyway. And so do I, normally. But my dive partner, Lucy, is at a wedding in Vegas for a few days, and there are only three or four safe caves I can do solo.
I rub my arms, chilled by the intense icy cold of the water surrounding me. It's bone chilling cold, even with my thick rubber wet suit on, and a shocking contrast to the warmth of the pond upside.
I press the button and switch my camera on, testing the viewfinder and adjusting the settings to their best quality, and move off toward the impressive strata breakdown in the side cave wall. It's an amazing sight, and simply massive. I swim around excitedly, filming the ragged features and fissures of the rock. Shrimp and other cave dwellers pass me by. Scooting around and into the crevices and grooves of the limestone. Their sensory mechanisms are highly developed for searching out food and avoiding predators without the need for light. I gently touch a Remipedia with my finger tip and grin in delight as it writhes its way off in surprise, all its tiny little legs wriggling like crazy. I capture its hasty retreat on camera. I spot a small variety of shrimp and zoom in on it. These are native to many caves worldwide. I've seen a number in the blue holes, in the Bahamas where I've dived previously. This one I can name as a Speonebalia Cannoni, a pure white eyeless crustacean. Coloring and eyes are totally useless in this environment. It's about a centimeter long and so very sweet to look at. Although small, some of these creatures are strange and frankly quite ugly, if I should dare to think such things about other life forms. But I don't suppose I'd appear that attractive to them either. If they could see me.
Similar to the surface above, it's a constantly developing world. Random adaptations occurring within the species enabling those with the stronger characteristics to survive and thrive. And these changes can occur behaviorally, morphologically or physiologically. One thing I do know, is that evolution has no directionality. Evolution is blind.
And this cave contains a prime example of blind evolution, I think, with a touch of humor.
It's a stunning microcosm down here. A whole society and cross society of miniature creatures co-existing, evolving and adapting. And they are oblivious and completely separate from the wider world above them. This cave system is their whole world. I video as much as I can, gathering visual details of the life forms and their close habitats. Most organisms don't stray too far from their food and comfort zone. They localize to the rock type and textures of their environment. Even their characteristics become localized over time.
I lose all track of time, completely absorbed, traveling around the perimeter of the cave slowly.
I'm suddenly aware that they're nearby. James Richardson and his sister. Their torch lights flash across my path. I move off, to a lower level pointedly, hoping they won't follow me down.
And they don't, they're respectful of my work and that's very thoughtful.
A good while later, I ascend to the upper strata again, my videoing complete. I have a plenty of footage of three distinctly different parts of the cave with a clear difference of dependent life. I'm looking forward to examining it in detail on my
laptop at home, and adding an audio transcript.
My home is a two bed apartment which I recently leased in Ocala, along with Lucy, my assistant. It's central for visiting the caves in this area and we'll be here for two years doing this leg of my research. We work for a company called Earth Moves. It's a partly government funded research facility. We collate all the scientific information into an ever expanding visual and statistical database. I'm proud to be a part of such a wonderful project as this. I love my work. Every second of it.
I see the other two leaving, their lights sweeping up the canyon on the far side. I decide to hang around for fifteen minutes more, to ensure they're gone when I emerge.
And I'm so pleased I did, because five minutes later, a beautiful ultra-thin blind white cave eel slithers past me. It's long; two feet, I estimate. It reminds me of a length of silky white rope. I turn on my camera and capture its graceful winding movements, following its progress across the cave. It disappears into a small hole in the rock like a guided missile. It could be a way through to an adjoining cave or simply its home. I've no way of knowing as the aperture is too small to navigate with the special light probe I have on my camera. I'm disappointed the eel has left, but even so, what a fantastic finale to my dive.
A few minutes later I leave, for my ascent. I'm not sure I'll ever see this cave again. I'm deeply touched by it. In love with the incredible size and beauty of this submerged, cone-like cavern—home to countless, amazing little beings.
Few people are lucky enough to see this part of the world, but neither do they have justifiable reason to disturb it.
My cave diving visits often provoke in me, a time of reflection. And my mind meanders off. How much of the world human beings will never inhabit or even know is there? And perhaps we have a similar blindness to other societies beyond ours. Something vast that we're totally unaware of. Perhaps something hidden, but in plain sight?
Now I'm getting far too philosophical, my scientific head leaving me for a moment. But I suppose it needs to now and then, science needs a rest. I sigh contentedly to myself as I kick my way slowly upwards; rising, stopping and starting; as the air mixture I'm breathing is returned to normal levels en route.
I see the light above begin to form, the light of the sun on the pond surface. It's a dull glow in the distance. I'm looking forward to getting back to the warmth now. I've had enough of the cold, my fingers are almost numb and I shiver involuntarily in response to my thoughts.
As I approach the surface an unusual pink glow tints the water around me.
How odd, I hadn't realized it was that late. Surely the sun can't be setting yet?
I'd have guessed it was about three o'clock or so.
As I breach the water and take off my mask in relief, inhaling a long breath of air, I immediately notice the heat. It hits the exposed skin of my face. Florida is always hot in the summer but this is a lot hotter than usual and notably hotter than when I left the pond and descended to the cave.
I stare upwards, to the sky, and I'm intrigued. I've never seen anything like it. Deep red on the horizon, streaked with vivid purple and edged with a yellow blur. But even more amazing is the fact that it's purest azure blue where the sun hangs above me, in it's expected three o'clock position. It's like the sky is split in half somehow. And both are at a different time of the day.
“That is the goddamn weirdest thing ever,” I say to myself slowly. I'm not sure what to think about it.
And what is it with the roasting heat?
I need to get in the cool of my car. I turn round and notice the other two are still there sitting inside their Land Rover, ready to depart. The pool is actually steaming around me as I wade to the side and take off my fins, unstrapping the tanks, and dumping them on the beach.
Their car rolls past me and he lowers the window, raises his hand through the gap, in a goodbye gesture, and sets off down the track. I raise mine in return, albeit briefly. I can be pleasant now he's going.
Quickly, I gather up my gear and take it back to the Chevvy, wiping the remaining drips dry with my towel and stowing it all away safely in the trunk. Then I strip off my wet suit and swimsuit. I'm dry almost instantly in the blistering heat surrounding me. I dress in denim shorts, a black t-shirt and my old, worn to death Birkenstocks. The heat is so wearisome and I quickly get inside the car, starting the engine and turning on the cooling system full blast. As the cool, fresh air begins to circulate the interior, I breathe a long sigh of relief as I start to feel comfortable and back to normal again. Leaning across to the back seat, I pluck my cell phone from my purse and have a quick flick through. No messages or missed calls, not that I expected any. But on second thoughts, actually I did. I was expecting Lucy to let me know how the wedding went. But perhaps she's hungover. That wouldn't surprise me. She likes a drink or ten, does Lucy.
I think of calling Mom, my usual daily afternoon call, but then think better of it. I'll leave that until I'm back home. I can relax more there.
I'm so worried about her. Ever since David died, she's been constantly hovering on the edge. Dad tries his best, but he's the 'pull-yourself-together' type. He gets frustrated with her. They've both grieved in their own way, as have I, but she's gone beyond that. She used to do things, have interests, and a full life. It's like she's given up, on everything. I guess I'll drive home tomorrow morning. I spend most of my weekends at home since Joe and I parted. I like the company and I know it cheers Mom up and gives Dad the extra support he needs. And Lucy can have the place to herself and Andy. She feels uncomfortable bringing Andy home to stay when I'm there, although I don't care in the slightest and I've told her often enough. I love her, and Andy's one of the few men I really do like.
I retrieve an old and much loved Enya CD from the door pocket and slide it in the car music player to chill out with on the ride back. There's nothing like listening to this at loud volume after a cave dive. My chill level hits the high heavens. What a fabulous voice she has, an unearthly clarity and pitch which makes the hair stand up on the back of my neck.
My stomach grumbles loudly with need of food, and a wave of empty nausea and light headedness rises inside me. “Breakfast seems a real long time ago,” I announce to myself. I can't dive on a full stomach, so eating is a burning issue when I emerge from one. I grab a tube of fruity candy and pop one in my mouth to keep myself going. “Thank God for Lifesavers.” I'm always talking to myself lately. Perhaps I'm going mad? I know I drive Lucy mad with my constant rambling.
I perform a quick u-turn in the space ahead and move forward, finally setting off. I give Nursery Sink pond a respectful little nod of my head as I depart.
My chest rises and falls with a few deep breaths and my heart palpitates. I often feel like this after a dive. I'm not sure how much is due to the aftermath of the air mixtures affecting my breathing and the amazing experience I have in the caves. The romantic inside me likes to think it's the latter, the scientist thinks it's the air.
It's a little overgrown along the dirt track, not very often accessed, and that's a good thing, I conclude, as I proceed toward the state road 50, about five hundred yards ahead.
I press down on the gas and pick up a little speed, taking the narrow bends, curves and dips of the track expertly and smoothly, with the assistance of my SUV's four wheel drive. It may be old and battered but my Chevvy drives like a magic carpet.
I finally reach the junction of the state road that leads to the main interstate about a quarter mile east. With a quick look, I turn left and pull out, accelerating along the blacktop grateful for the smooth surface to drive on. But I start in surprise. Straight up ahead of me, a few hundred yards, are two cars which seem to have been involved in a head on collision.
“Christ!” I say in shock.
Pulling up, a little way short of the crashed vehicles, I stop.
I sit there for a moment. There's no one around. No police. Nobody. It must be a very recent event. I turn the engine off and jump out, into the heavy, sur
rounding heat. I don't like the sight of blood and whatever else may be going on in there, but I manage to get past that. Lives may be at stake. Hesitantly I approach the first of the two cars. My feet are sticking to the tackiness of the blacktop, which seems to be melting in the heat. The sticky sounds from my feet are the only noise I can hear. I find the silence unnerving and disturbing. I arrive at the first car, which has heavily tinted windows.
I can't see inside... and with a deep breath for courage, I open the door.
Surprisingly and thankfully, no one is inside. I look for signs of injury, or damage. It's blood free and completely intact. A strange smell invades my nostrils. It's not entirely unpleasant. Kind of sweet, but cloying. But stranger still, are the discarded clothes and shoes and the thick pile of gray dust, spread mainly on the seats. It concerns and intrigues me.
What the hell is it?
I poke my finger in it and rub the contents against my thumb.
It's warm and grainy, but much finer than sand. It's also a little bit greasy and sticks to my fingers. I brush it off on my shorts and a quick shiver of revulsion runs up my spine. I don't like this situation, or anything about it. Pulling myself together a bit, I stand up on the car foot board and crane my neck, looking to the car in front, which is also unoccupied, and then further, over the top, into the distance. The road ahead is empty and eerily still. The weird sky worries me and the heat is humid and really oppressive. This is creeping me out more and more with each passing minute.
Why are there no other people on this route?
This is usually such a busy road. Maybe there's another accident somewhere further up? I wonder where James Richardson and his sister are? And if they went this way? I expect they did. This incident must have happened in between our departures. I'm concerned about them. I might not like him much, but still... even so...and then there's his young sister... I really wouldn't want anything to have happened to them.
