A geometric moray (Siderea grisea) emerging from a rock crevice at Shark Island, Fujairah, about 15 metres down. Or, as a friend of mine calls it, the lesser-known ‘preparing for plastic surgery eel.’
I’m a diver. Fairly recently, I got my Advanced certification, during which I did my first ever deep dive. The limit for recreational open-water diving is 40 metres or so, and until you’re certified Advanced you can’t go anywhere near that deep. This was taken on that first dive, at a wreck site called Inchcape 1 in Fujairah, off the East coast of the United Arab Emirates, at a depth of about 35 metres. I haven’t been diving long, but I love it. Actually, no, that’s an understatement. There is no feeling on Earth like it. It is freedom, euphoria, discovery, and a million others all at the same time. It always seems to me like a tragic cosmic oversight – or an evolutionary step that can’t be completed soon enough – that humans aren’t built to live underwater.