At some point last year, Bill brought aboard a beautiful book entitled "Atlas of Remote Islands" by Judith Schalansky. Given the nature of our journey, we decided to take a greater venture into its pages. Comical -- the first page I opened to? "Paradise is an island. So is hell." As it turns out, the island we've been and those we'll be going to are so remote that they don't fit into the "fifty islands [she has] never set foot on and never will". Poor Ms. Schalanksy, she has no idea -- and it's too damn bad! While Guadelupe was a treat, San Benedicto is absolutely jaw-dropping!
Most of the island's 2 miles are defined by a flat-topped volcanic center, but as it spills out into the sea, each face takes the appearance of thousands of miniature mountain ranges that then drop 90 degrees into the waves. The water then laps against these walls, carving vast caverns within them or sprouting networks of rock arches. Many have fallen, leaving behind tremendous needle-like pinnacles that extend some 200 feet into the air.
It's of little surprise that no sooner than land was in sight that Ed donned his diving gear. Bill, nestling us into safe anchorage, led us off the northern coast to drift in the current amongst several of these pillars. Overwhelmed by the beauty of the water and abundance of fish, we hardly saw what came gracefully soaring out of the depths: a (12 ft?) manta ray. Suspended in the water he came straight towards us, only veering last minute to play in a series of circles below. Taking the chance at a fresh fish dinner, Ed speared a beauty that soon became Bill's 'Grouper Parmesan' masterpiece.
As we settled into anchorage on the east shore, the stars, blaring in their gracefulness, seemed to take pride in being the only light around. Not knowing quite where darkness of sky met sea, strapping on our flippers, we plunged into 75 degree water for a night dive. What a feeling of vulnerability -- just you, your wandering imagination, and a flashlight. Swimming alongside turtles and darting fish, you find yourself praying nothing finds you that's not supposed to. Although, I suppose that was also the thought process of the lobster we found clinging to the rocks. As we brought him back aboard, he looked for his quickest escape, and without the batting of an eye, that swabby walked the plank! Sorry Bill!
For the following several days, we focused our energies on repairing and cleaning ship. We were told at sea nothing is static -- "that everything is trying to wiggle loose or wear out". We checked the engines, gave a 360 inspection, restrung the spinnaker halyard, scrubbed the deck, cleaned her insides, changed the annodes, and gave her a thorough bottom job (most of which was completed after we'd swam all over high heaven checking off the 8th item on the list, "go diving, go diving, go diving...").
By 9 am one morning, swimming with manta's became the mantra of the day. After swimming alongside one, easily twice the length of Ed, we followed another that almost collided head on with a third. She led us to a fourth at much deeper depths and found a fifth waiting for us in the shade of our dinghy. 5! What a day! Though Ed managed to grab hold for a second or so, all attempts to 'ride' mantas remained futile. Alas. Moving south, we decided that observing 5 white-tipped reef sharks would have to suffice. We didn't make any effort to ride them.
Our time with San Benedicto was drawing to a close. BBQing off the stern, we watched the sky as a lightening storm enveloped the eastern horizon. As night fell, the winds drew nearer, and knew a storm was brewing all around us.
Mighty Pacific, keep us safe.
Until tomorrow, and with all our love,
The crew of L'Obsession
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