Castle Rocks dive site. The Big Daddy on the False Bay side in the beautiful, but a tad on the nippy side, scuba diving waters of Cape Town, South Africa.
For more dive maps of scuba diving sites take a look at my dive map page.
Scuba diving reveals things of beauty every time you go underwater. Sometimes I glide past in wonder. Other times I stop and stare. This basket starfish kept me gawking for about twenty minutes. I kid you not. Then a gentle tug on my fin from one of my fellow scuba divers forced me away.
The basket starfish. Intricate, beautiful and fragile. Just like all of nature’s creations.
South Pacific seafarers firmly believed, for centuries, death by giant clam was part of everyday ocean life. The giant clam had a reputation for laying in wait for unsuspecting swimmers and scuba divers. Its giant mouth would open and swallow them whole. Wham, clam, thank you Ma’am. A whole scuba diver!? In one sitting!? Yeah, right.
I stuck my whole arm, well, up to my elbow, inside this chap and it did absolutely nothing. It used its adductor muscle to start closing its giant mouth and then opened it again. That’s adductor muscle; not abductor muscle. Just in case you were wondering.
So, there it is, first-hand and arm experience death by giant clam is just a southern Pacific yarn from yesteryear.
Scuba divers don’t always only have scuba diving on the mind all of the time, like every second, minute, hour of the day. What utter nonsense is that? Who would’ve come up with such a ridiculous thought? Complete garbage, I say. We think of, and do, things other than scuba diving.
Like… sometimes we stroll around annual kite festivals, because all scuba diving has been cancelled for the day, and show an interest in the kites on display.
Then suddenly, we see a larger than life-sized scuba diver flapping around in the air and our stroll gathers momentum. Mind races. Eyes light up. Teeth beam. Camera is out in a flash. Tell everyone I see for the next six weeks, nothing else, but there was this really, super-cool giant-sized scuba diver kite scuba diving in the sky. ‘You should’ve seen it!’
See, I’m a scuba diver who loves scuba diving, who doesn’t mind visiting kite festivals.
Very glad I am not my camera taking a picture of this honeycomb moray eel while scuba diving. Or, more specifically, my frame-limit indicator – which gets snapped-off and dragged back inside this eels’ hole. And there’s no way I’m sticking my hand in to retrieve it. No way. Honeycomb moray eel One – Scuba diver Zero.
So there I am, trying to get as close as possible to this eel. Click. Steady now. Click, click… Slowly now. Very good Mr, or Mrs, Eel. You stay right there. Click. That’s it, pose for me. Good, show some teeth. I’m liking it. Just a little closer. A little more. Click.
I remember a yellow blur and feel something hitting me in the face. I clench my eyes shut, push myself away from the reef and wait for the pain. I feel a tug and hear a loud snap. Shit, that must be my nose being broken by the eel. Luckily it’s not. The honeycomb moray eel slips back into its hole in an instant. I’m pretty much shaken-up but come out unscathed and complete the rest of the dive without my frame-limit indicator; and continuously looking back over my scuba diving cylinder.
Yup, there’s nothing on my brain but pure sex. That’s S E X… capitals from start to finish. Bold. Italic. Underlined. Highlighted. Oh yeah, move aside Heff. Take a hike Valentino. Put Ra Ra Rasputin, Russia’s greatest love machine, to bed – you’re looking at the real-deal right here.
My secret? No, none of those magic potions. No whispering sweet nothings either. Just one word. Hermaphrodite. Yes, I combine contradictory sex elements and can have sex internally with myself if any one of the hunks and hunkesses in our colony doesn’t tickle my fancy. Or floats my boat, know what I mean? *Wink*
Oh, so you think having sex with yourself is pitiful and sad – well you just stop yourself right there. I can also send out eggs if tantalised by the right, hot male that’s sensitive to my wants and needs. Or, I can pretty easily pop some sperm towards my neighbour if she catches my eye.
Got babies to make. Have to keep the hard coral population going. Can’t have our sea and ocean floors overrun by soft coral. So I use the full capacity of my brain when it comes to sex.
Lining up to shoot another killer, a lionfish. For the best angle, I need to put one hand on the reef to stabilise myself. My gloved hand is about to touch down when my scuba diving buddy pushes it away and points at the reef. I look to where he is pointing and see nothing but the rock I would like to use as my stabiliser. I wag my finger back at him and try again. He pushes me, again. ‘Piss off man,’ I think. ‘I’m not going to break or kill the reef.’ My hand moves towards the rock.
My scuba diving bud grabs my hand and holds the back of my head pushing it dangerously close to the reef. ‘Oh, so this is how it’s going to go down.’ Just as I’m about to turn around and unleash a mask-removal headlock followed by a killer roundhouse fin slap… I see it. Centimetres from my face. Completely missed spotting this potential killer while scuba diving.