Diving the Bermuda Triangle

The sun is setting blood red, painting the western sky the color of a fresh bruise. Over to the east, black thunderheads flash blue lightning into the darkening distance, illuminating a solitary lighthouse, its single shining eye warning sailors to stay away from this devils isle. I am on a forty foot dive boat that still bears the pock marked holes of bullet wounds; an unfortunate incident from her previous life when the United States Coast Guard intercepted her doing twenty-two knots running drugs in the Bahamas. We are moored to a shipwreck, the King George, a fifty meter steam powered dredger sunk seven miles off of the north eastern corner of Bermuda, presumably another victim of the infamous triangle. Together with the other six divers on board I ready my kit and try not to think on the ghosts of the dead sailors that may lurk on the coral encrusted deck of the ship below. I vaguely remember the captain giving a pre-dive briefing, but don’t pay attention to a single word, apprehensive at diving into the Bermuda triangle.


Lost in the Triangle

We splash into the water, breaking the liquid skin of the black ocean. Below, the lights of the divers are already piercing the darkness, illuminating the wreck lying at twenty meters. As I descend the bridge comes into view, its coral encrusted superstructure like a mausoleum to the dead. Hundreds of snapper school around the decks, eyeing me with that faint disdain our aquatic brethren hold for us landlubbers. A lionfish, an invasive species in these waters, spreads its peacock mane, its surreal beauty bellying the promised pain of its spine fringed fins. As I swim along the deck my trepidation from the beginning of the dive dissolves like mist before the sun, my light illuminating decennia of hard and soft coral growth. Suddenly, from deep inside the bowels of the wreck, a dark, shadowy figure emerges. I gasp, is this the supernatural specter of the long dead captain? As the figure draws near my eyes adjust and a thirty kilo grouper looks at me with bemused surprise. It gives me a full lipped grin and disappears back into the belly of the ship. My air is low, I ascend the anchor line, and on my safety stop switch off my light, leaving the darkness envelope me. Instantly my vision is clouded by thousands of bio-luminescent beings drifting downwards like day-glo snow. As I climb the swim ladder, helped by the captain, I glance to the east. Instead of lightning illuminating the lighthouse, fireworks are inexplicably exploding into the night sky. This is it, I thought, I am lost in the Triangle, and I never want to be found.

Tenacity

This was my first dive off of the coast of Bermuda, a British Over Seas Territory located in the middle of the North Atlantic. For dramatic effect, my first dive was to be a night dive on a shipwreck. If I actually listened to the pre-dive brief, I would have heard that the King George was in fact sunk deliberately in 1913, and no ghosts roam its submerged decks. I am diving with the aptly named Triangle Divers, a dive company located at the eastern end of the island at the Grotto Bay Hotel (there actually is a grotto there, stalagmites and all). On the ride back the owner and captain, Graham Maddox, gave me some information on the dive boat; “The boat is called the tenacity for obvious reasons. When I bought her she survived one of the strongest storms to ever have hit the island. Before that she was used by the U.S Navy when they were based on the island. She came to Bermuda from the Bahamas, where she was caught trying to smuggle drugs, hence the few bullet holes that are still left in her”. She is a beautiful boat, wide and comfortable, and full of the history that makes Bermuda so unique.

Water as Clear as Gin

Bermuda is in fact a collection of 138 islands, islets, and keys connected by bridges and causeways. Many mistakenly place the island in the Caribbean, but in fact the nearest landmass is West Virginia, USA. Despite its northern latitude, the island enjoys a subtropical climate owing to the Gulf Stream that bathes the island in warm, nutrient rich water. The island lies on a platform of a submerged volcano and is surrounded by two hundred kilometers of coral barrier reef. Many people claim that Bermuda does not have the variety of fish life and coral found in the Caribbean. They are correct; the reefs surrounding Bermuda are built by the most northerly tropical coral species in the world. Because the water can get quite chilly in the winter (when a 7mm suit would be necessary, as is opposed to the summer, when just a 3 mm shorty is all that is needed) many species that are found in the south are not found surrounding the island. But one would be mistaken to think that this translates into poor reef quality. Bermuda has some of the healthiest reefs in the Atlantic, specifically because they are so high north, and what the reef lacks in diversity it makes up in sheer number and size; during a dive at a site called North Rock, I swam thru a coral archway covered in sea-fans the size of boat sails and brain coral the size of minivans. The reef was covered in thick schools of snapper, and a black grouper the size of a Minicooper kept me company. All in water as clear as gin.

Shipwreck Central

Another claim to fame for the island is the immense number of wrecks that can be explored. Though this is the Bermuda Triangle most of the wrecks were sunk by the thousands of navigation hazards posed by the reefs that line the island like a string of pearls. Divers have the choice of diving on the wreck of the 17th century schooner the West Virginia in the morning, and then on the five hundred foot ocean liner the Christobal Colon in the afternoon. It is common to hear rumors of treasure whispered throughout the island, just ask Teddy Tucker, who found an emerald inlaid, solid gold cross amongst thousands of gold and silver doubloons and lengths of gold chain. Tucker was also the inspiration for the Peter Benchley Novel The Deep, based on Tucker’s discovery of morphine ampoules on the wreck of the Constellation. The book was later turned into a movie of the same name, starring Nick Nolte and Jacqueline Bisset (her famous wet t-shirt scene will live on in my dreams).

Dark and Stormy

It is ten a.m. We are on the south side of the island in a moderate chop and I am not feeling well. Not because of any misgivings about the dive, rather because of the Bermuda Experience I had topside yesterday. The day before started out beautifully, the early morning sunlight evaporated the memory of the thunderstorms from the night before, long tailed tropic birds danced over the flat calm water, and the smell of Bermuda Lilies perfumed the air. I grabbed my daypack and headed out into the comfortable morning. For the duration of my stay on Bermuda I took the excellent public transportation system, though visitors (who are brave enough) can rent their own scooters. Rental cars are illegal on the island, keeping it free of traffic congestion. On my way to St. George’s, the island’s first capital and an UNESCO World Heritage Sight, the island’s pretty scenery passed outside the bus window; rolling green hills dotted by the pink, yellow, and blue pastel hues of the houses, while views of the azure ocean were never far behind. Once in St. Georges I walked along its cobblestone streets, marveling at the seventeenth century architecture and peeking into the narrow alleys that are full of mystery. I paused to have a fish chowder lunch at the Whitehorse tavern, the taste of the fish blending perfectly with the view of St. George’s harbor. From there I took a forty five minute ferry ride to the old Naval Dockyard, strolled amongst the old garrisons and the forts and snorkeled at the snorkel park. Then another bus to Somersett, where the world’s smallest drawbridge is located (wide enough only for a ship’s mast) and a hike to the beautiful pink sands of Horseshoe Bay. Then another bus ride to the Island’s small but busy capital Hamilton, where the Friday night happy hour was in full swing, the bars along its main strip filled with people happy at the approaching weekend. The drink of choice is the Dark and Stormy, a mix of Goslings dark rum and ginger beer. It is delicious and deadly. And it is the reason why, at 10 am, getting ready for my first dive of the day, I am not feeling well.

The Cathedral

We are moored to a sight called the Cathedral, located on the south eastern side of Bermuda. It is called the Cathedral because of its large swim through into a coral encrusted cave, with at the top a fissure that lets in shafts of sunlight, giving the site an awesome, religious feel. After the briefing I splash into the water, following dive instructor Mr. Christmas (if you dive with him, it’s always Christmas). The reef is alive. Huge stoplight parrotfish munch on finger coral while simultaneously defecating sand. We approach the entrance to the Cathedral, a spooky swim through called the Devil’s Hole. We push aside a curtain of silversides, and suddenly find ourselves in an immense, light filled cavern. Bait fish shimmer in the shafts of light and huge tarpon enter and exit thru the hole above, regal as silver kings. It reminds me of the Pantheon in Rome, the same awe inspiring feel ten fathoms under the sea. We exit the Cathedral and make our way along the explosion of life that is the coral reef back to the boat. I have never felt better.

Our second dive was on the wreck of the Pelinaion, a steam powered, 4000 gross ton steamer that ran aground in 1940. She lies in twenty-one meters of water and is spectacularly covered in coral. Lionfish hover at her props.

Caves and Towers

That evening, while enjoying a rum swizzle and cheeseburger at the Swizzle Inn restaurant, I talk to Dane Robinson, Master Instructor at Triangle. Dane has a hobby called extreme deep diving. His last dive was to a Russian submarine off of the coast of Venezuela in 200 meters of water using hydrogen. I asked him about the possibilities of technical diving on Bermuda. The island is perfect for novice divers, with shallow wrecks and easily navigable reefs, but I have been hearing persistent rumors about the possibilities of technical diving. The night before a research team from the US based Cambrian Foundation conducted a rebreather seminar on the island. They are using the rebreathers to map the as yet miles of unexplored cave systems that snake under Bermuda. As for deep diving; “though we have deep wrecks, our most spectacular dive is the Argus Tower. An old cold war listening station that was used by the Americans to listen for Soviet subs,” mentions Dane. The tower lies an almost six hour boat ride in the middle of the Atlantic at the summit of the Argus bank, and is 50 meters at its shallowest point and 80 meters at its deepest. Because it is in the middle of the ocean, it is the place to be for big pelagic life; yellow fin tuna school in the deep blue, sailfish unfurl their majestic fins there, and tiger and dusky sharks are regular visitors. It is even possible to dive with humpback whales amongst the tower’s coral covered structure. The dive is spectacular. And breathtaking.

Submerged Grand Canyon

It is my last day on the island. I am preparing to make a shore dive at Flatts inlet, a narrow inlet that connects Harrington Sound to the ocean. The village of Flatts is home to the prestigious Bermuda Aquarium (the island is home to institutions that lie at the forefront of ocean research. It houses several institutions that conduct a wide variety of research in the fields of oceanography, ecology, and biology. William Beebe, the man who invented one of the first deep diving submersibles, the bathysphere, tested his vessel in the waters off of Bermuda. All of the dive sites on the island are protected areas, and a fish-trap ban in the early nineties has resulted in one of the healthiest Atlantic basin ecosystems). It is from the aquarium docks that I enter the water and drift along the moderate current, which can occasionally rocket at five knots. The water is clear, fifty meter viz, and the scenery is spectacular; the underwater crevasses resembling a mini version of the Grand Canyon. The fish life is dramatic, with groupers, snapper, and jacks schooling in profusion. A loggerhead turtle swims by and looks at me with its ancient eye.
I almost got lost in the Bermuda Triangle. Not because of some supernatural force pulling me into its mysterious depths. I almost lost myself because I intended to. I wanted to stay in this place with friendly people, amazing diving, good food, and the ghostly grouper on the wreck of the King George.