Amid the near frantic final preparations that always proceed cutting the umbilical of daily routine and getting out of Dodge, I kept trying to take a moment to stand still and remember the reason behind the rush. When I take the time to be still and focus on the memories, I can at least still call up the rhythm of surf breaking on the reef, the mixed language chatter of the Bay Islanders, and that warm sweet scent that can only be tropical; earth, air, and sea. And I always underestimate them all.
Having been lucky enough to have fallen into the island rhythms before, Sarah and I are always quietly excited as we step off the plane quickly and try to slow down to Island Time. If you don't, the heat will show you how. Plowing my way, with Pidgin Spanish, through Customs, taxi, shopping, taxi, we are deposited, already sweaty, at the water's edge and all our efforts to get here are immediately worthwhile. We feel home again, in a way that is unique because we have never lived here, and yet a part of us stays here, and that is how I can recall it.
The last two days have been spent happily soaring in neutral buoyancy. As Sarah says "as close as I will ever come to flying". Here at the East End of Roatan, away from the tourist throng, we are happily ensconced near a lush and diverse reef. Excellent wall diving, great visibility and perfect water temperature. Each dive has rewarded us with half a dozen new, or remembered, creatures from that great variety that lives in this part of the great soup. From the spotted eel that looks like a white snake with a vacuum mouth, to large sea horses, 300 year old barrel coral, different fluorescent fishes, barracuda, puffer fish, striped grouper, more corals than you can count in more shapes sizes and colors than you can remember, we are immersed again. And smiling.
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