There we were, perched on the back platform of the dive boat, snugly zipped into our wetsuits, with fins and snorkel gear in place. The haze of the Honduran mainland was barely visible in the distance, as the deep blue ocean stretched out for miles around us in every direction. The tension was palpable. No one was talking; we were too busy focussing on the water's surface to engage in any sort of conversation. Our eyes scanned the expansive sea for any hints of disturbance. If you didn't know any better, the scene could have passed for a top-secret military drill. (If you could overlook the fact that no one on board was actually fit enough to be in the military.)
And just when we had settled into a comfortable silence, the Captain and crew shattered it. "GO! GO! GO!" they yelled. "TO YOUR LEFT!"
Chaos ensued. We fumbled with our snorkels. Not wanting to miss our chance, we slid into the water anyway, adjusting the mouthpieces as we went. Our faces plunged into the water, our eyes adjusting to the diminished light just below the surface.
And then... HOLY CRAP! (Which is what I actually yelled through my mouthpiece, although no one could hear me.) My heart skipped a beat. Not only was there a thirty foot whale shark in front of me, but there was a thirty foot whale shark so close to me that I could see the gleam of his left eye and the pattern of his spots. I could have reached out and touched him. (Which I didn't, because you're not supposed to.) It was breathtaking. I was in awe. This wasn't my first encounter with whale sharks, but to be in such close proximity was amazing. We all treaded water around him, doing our best not to spook him. Mouse even snagged a couple of great shots. (Which I will upload as I get a couple of computer glitches taken care of.)
After a few minutes, he slowly and gracefully swam away, plunging deeper into the sea than we mere mortals will ever go. It was an incredible beginning to our final day of diving in Utila. Mission accomplished.
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