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THE WILD TOPSIDE OF LIFE
NIGEL EATON, EDITOR
I recently received an e-mail from one of the many divers who have so far swum with the bottlenose dolphin that turned up around the Portland area of Dorset at Easter (see Diver News).
The man had travelled from northern England to dive the wreck of the M2 submarine out of Weymouth. The dive was cancelled because of boat problems; the diver and his buddy ended up diving another site; and the dolphin appeared at the end of the dive and "played for hours" with the divers on the surface.
As my correspondent pointed out, this sort of experience is a bit out of the ordinary. But was it, I wondered, typical of the way in which unforgettable wildlife encounters can often occur before, after and in-between dives, as well as during them? I compared my own recent experiences.
There was the 60-minute ferry journey to a diving destination off the coast of California. On a damp January morning we saw pelicans, migrating grey whales and a school of about 100 common dolphins churning up a big area of water to one side of our boat. Arcing high out of the water to re-enter smoothly, or splashing down on their heads and backs, the tightly packed group kept pace with our fast boat for much of the trip.
During my last visit to the northern Red Sea, a place not noted in recent times for large pelagics, there was a spectacular surface encounter with a school of Risso's dolphins. More pocket-sized whales than what are usually thought of as dolphins, the group of 15 or so heavyweights approached our boat, performed leisurely barrel rolls to expose their blanched undersides, and posed vertically in the water with either their heads or tails projecting several feet.
And on a trip to the Maldives earlier this year, frequent close underwater sightings of manta rays were matched on land by the nightly spectacle of rays up to 4m across coming close to the beach to feed. In the lights of the jetty they hovered, made wide sweeps, and performed elegant somersaults. Occasionally one would drift up to the surface, bringing its head fully out of the water in front of us.
Meanwhile, in the afternoon, our snorkel excursions on the house reef usually brought close encounters with turtles, flying fish, sting rays or reef sharks. We would emerge from the water at dusk to see herons fishing along the deserted shoreline. In the trees above the beach, giant fruitbats melted in and out of the deepening shadows like slow, inky seagulls.
The process of going diving often puts us in contact with wilderness areas that most of us would rarely otherwise visit. My personal observations bear out the fact that this frequently means striking encounters with wild creatures on and around the water, as well as when diving beneath it.
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