The early morning sun beat down on me as I stepped into the zodiac, my friend Shauna beside me and two guests across. Our Tico driver, Erick, pulled away from the fantail and we shot across the crystal clear Panamanian water to the tiny isle of Granito de Oro, a small part of the Coiba National Park off the Pacific coast of Panama.
I’m working for a small cruise ship company, really an eco-tourism ship, and we’re halfway through a trip that started in Herradura, Costa Rica, and will end in Colon, Panama, on the other side of the Panama Canal. Several small islands make up Coiba National Park, which sits on the northern edge of the Panamanian/Costa Rican border. It’s famous for it’s prison, which is now a hard-to-get-to tourist spot. Hours from the coast, Coiba has one of the most pristine reefs in the world. We are lucky enough to go there every week.
Coiba National Park
Isa met us on the shore and I dropped my sarong and bag by Vanessa. Shauna clambered over the rocks and soon disappeared… “A feather. Look at this perfect feather. I’m going to mark our spot.”
Within minutes of setting my stuff down and sinking into the soft sand, hermit crabs were gently scuttling across the bright yellow fabric. I shifted slightly, disrupting them and causing them to retreat, leaving my sarong littered with shells. Restless in the hot sun, I got up and grabbed my gopro. I strode down the white sand beach to the snorkels. Adjusting my mask, I stepped into the cool water and dove into the abyss. Coral materialised in front of me as the reef loomed large. heavy rocks sat to my right and I could have touched the light pink and brown coral under me.
snorkelling in the coral reef
Schools of brightly colored fish swarmed and, breaststroking swiftly away from the masses, I soon found myself alone in a sea of yellow and blue sergeant major fish. Easter fish – those pearlescent, pastel fish – darted below, chasing smaller fish and nipping at their tails.
The tide was low and the floor dropped away to my left, leaving my imagination running wild: sharks, whales? Definitely sharks.
I kept my eyes peeled for the sea turtle, but it never graced me with its presence. Last year, I followed it as it effortlessly swam among the rocks, it’s green and brown shell catching the light from the almost-equatorial sun above.
The current pressed me toward the rocks and the swell crashed into the point above me. Light filtered down, creating hazy rays and I was lifted along with the water. The hum of a zodiac near me caused me to raise my head. Bosun went by, a swift course through the waves and I waved at Nikki as her wake swept over me. I readjusted my goggles and ducked back under.
what did i see
My gaze caught movement to my left, and I saw two large grey shapes. “Reef sharks,” I thought, “I’ll have to look them up.” Dorsal fins glinted in the ever-shifting light as they swam past me, not close enough to touch but close enough to see.
At the farthest point, just where I could have kept going, I turned back. I drifted close to the rocks, watching tiny blue fish shimmer and shine among the dark black rocks, little silver fish dart in and out of crevasses, needlefish glide effortlessly across the ocean floor. A black polka-dotted pufferfish swam past, and soon enough a bright yellow one followed, his fins flitting quickly back and forth.
I circled back around the rock and as I curved back, the reef bed came up under me. Sea urchin lay in large caves, their spines gently waving in the current. The coral rose beneath me and I could have laid down on it. I kicked once, twice, flipped on to my back, and let the water push me back to the sandy floor. I pushed against it once and then drifted in to shore.