Sunday, April 10, 2011

4-8-2011 Akumal Mexico – Two Turtle Day

It was a “two-turtle” day at the bay in Akumal, Mexico. Friday was our last day at the resort. I really wanted to see the turtles toward the north end of the beach that I had heard so many people talking about.

After breakfast we hauled our bag full of snorkeling gear and towels down to where the resort sun-beds (chaise lounge chairs) end and the boats are moored in the cove. This was way before the snorkelers, in groups of ten or more start their march out to sea to view the wonders below. Snorkelers must be dropped off in van-loads from other resorts to learn snorkeling. There are always new groups out there learning. We stood beside one group to overhear how to do it the right way. We had always bobbed in the moving surf about knee high to put on our fins. They let the water slash on their fins and feet at the water’s edge facing away from the ocean. You can get into your fins a lot easier that way.

You can always tell were the snorkeling tubes congregate in the ocean, that there must be something below. We enjoyed the cool breeze and sounds of the ocean as we had the whole day to get busy looking for turtles.

I’m not a good swimmer and sometimes panic-up when I can’t touch the bottom. Swimming in the surf with the tides against you is another whole dimension from the glass-still surface of the lagoon a few days ago. At least today I didn’t need to hold Stan’s hand. I plan out the process in my head of what will be comfortable. I look to the buoy by the boats and the pod of snorkelers about 20 feet further in the distance. They are out too far but the buoy might be within a safe swimming distance, safe in my mind that is. Stan spits in my mask for me as spitting seems to be a guy thing. The spit keeps the mask from fogging up. I rinse the mask a little in the clear surf water and put it on. I start walking with my back to the surf while lifting my fins up and down as they suction to the moving sands. I lay back into the water and take a few stokes against the splash of the surf. I stand back up in waist high water and head toward Stan out into the bay.

Breathing in and out through the snorkel, everything seems ok so far. I can do twenty or so strokes and kicks. I try to breathe more shallowly so as not to panic and wear myself out. I look down at the ocean floor at the swaying thick grasses. A few small fish leisurely swim through the water. We are looking for the fine grasses that the turtles eat.

I bob up to the surface to check my location and also adjust my mask which is filling with water. So far so good. We head to the buoy another twenty or so stokes. More water fills in my mask. I come up to the surface and swallow some of the salty water leading a little panic. I hang on to the buoy for a while trying to regain my confidence and finish with the coughing fit.

Stan patiently waits for me to decide if we should go in or keep on. I know I can always float back in to the shoreline on my back if I need to and I was pretty comfortable bobbing in the ten foot deep water hanging onto the buoy’s rope out here. I just know there are turtles close by and want to see them.

The pod of snorkelers are still about twenty or more feet in the distance.

We decide to swim parallel to the beach. Slicing through the water with the surf pushing against you requires added energy. I see him. I bob up to call to Stan and point to the spot. We both float around the surface watching the turtle. He is beautiful about three feet long. His shell is covered with a thin layer of moss with his flippers dark green from age. He gently nibbles at the fine grasses on the ocean floor. When it is time for a breath he flaps his flippers a few times and floats to the surface with such grace and ease. That was worth the trip.
We swim back to shore and rest in the shade enjoying the warm ocean breeze. We meander over to the swing-bar and talk to some people while we wait for it to open. The bar has a name, which I forgot. We call it the swing-bar because there are swings hanging from the rafters. You can sit on them and swing back and forth making patterns in the sand with your feet.

I watch a couple of workers shoveling and racking the sand around so all surfaces are pretty much evenly covered. Can you imagine what it would be like to be in charge of sand dispersion? Every day the sand flows and blows around. Every day you and your buddy organize and smooth it. I guess we all do that to a certain extent, just with different material. Work on stuff and move it around. Next day more stuff. Work some more. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

Time to go back out and look for turtles. Stan fixes my mask so it is tighter and maybe less prone to fill with water. I’m still pretty tired from our jaunt before so we decide for one more turtle try about 20 or so strokes out from the shoulder deep water. We swim past the thick grasses toward a patch of the thin grasses. There she is, smaller at about eighteen inches long. She must have been much younger than her friend by the buoy as her shell and flippers were a rich rust color with white under coat. She was nibbling at the grasses and then surfacing for a breath. Not sure if they were he’s and she’s, it just seemed they were.

What a delight. Made my two turtle day complete.

No comments: