A 6-Year-Old Gives Snorkeling a Try in Turks and Caicos

“Eric,” remarked my 6-year-old son, Alessandro, to the similarly aged son of the S/V Atabeyra’s skipper, “this boat is half boat, half paradise!”

This spontaneous declaration was greeted by our fellow passengers with wholehearted agreement. After all, we’d spent the day sailing among the white, deserted Caicos Cays aboard the elegant schooner, stopping for a swim in phosphorescent, aquamarine waters, and eating our lunch of skewered chicken, shrimp, salad, wine, rum punch, and homemade cookies in the shade of Atabeyra’s sails. We’d seen dolphins arcing in and out of the water alongside the ship (apparently for the dubious pleasure of feeling the engine’s vibrations against their bodies). We’d even watched, transfixed, as the long, archetypal shadow of a shark slipped through the water to a point a few feet away from the shore onto which we were about to disembark, and then slowly turned away again (“Nurse shark,” explained one of the crew. “Bottom feeder. Vegetarian...mostly.”). Who could complain?

But I, quietly, blissfully watching the blue and white seascape with the tropical breeze in my face and a glass of cold white wine in my hand, knew perfectly well that, these days, Alessandro was capable of turning on a dime from joy to discontent, regardless of his surroundings. The phase was also a monster with two heads: it could either take the form of a sudden, groundless crankiness, or a stony refusal to try anything that Alessandro hadn’t tried, and approved of, before. It wasn’t the kind of monster that you wanted to bring along on a family vacation, but–judging from Alessandro’s elated pronouncement--it seemed to have been banished from the schooner Atabeyra for the time being.

There was, however, still a challenge to be dealt with. Once we reached what Eric’s father deemed a suitable spot, we’d stop for some snorkeling.

Now, I will be the first to admit that I’m an overprotective mother. Watching Alessandro’s new friend Eric, so obviously a seasoned child of the sea, cavorting monkey-like along the railings of his father’s schooner had me covering my eyes half the time, and reaching out unnecessarily to keep him from falling into Grace Bay the other half. Had Alessandro been so bold, I might have lost some of my shrimp, salad, and cookies out of sheer anxiety.

But snorkeling–so natural and simple an activity that even I had mastered it–was something that I’d wanted Alessandro to experience ever since he’d gotten used to being in water that was over his head. At times, we seemed to be making progress toward that goal. In the swimming pool at the Ocean Club Resort, where we were staying, Alessandro had been willing to try out the little mask-and-fin set that I’d brought along for him, but then he’d quickly ditch it on the pool deck in favor of an unencumbered game of Marco Polo with his friends.

The day before our Atabeyra excursion, Alessandro had also surprised me by agreeing to do some kayaking, simply because he’d “never tried it before” (the monster must have dozed off). Encouraged, I said, “You know that we get to go snorkeling tomorrow, too. Won’t that be fun?”

“Maybe,” he’d answered, gazing out inscrutably at the water.

When the Atabeyra reached the area where we’d be snorkeling, I must admit to some parental trepidation. The water just then had gotten pretty choppy, and its translucent blue-green had gone quite a bit darker. There’s no way that Alessandro will agree to this, I was thinking with just a hint of relief.

But Eric was already pulling on his fins, and, to my astonishment, Alessandro was right behind him (not wanting to be out-machoed really does start early, I was thinking). Fine. Once some of the older children and adults on the ship had gone into the water, Eric, Alessandro, and I climbed down the ladder into the lurching sea.

It was clear that this wasn’t going to be a hang-out-at-the-surface-and-marvel-at-the-fish snorkeling excursion. Aside from the fact that the water had become too cloudy to see much of anything, I was more concerned with making certain that Alessandro’s unexpected spirit of adventure didn’t get snuffed out by any mishaps. Eric, it seemed, was more than comfortable, and Alessandro continued to follow his lead. I just needed to watch.

Suddenly, though, something changed. Eric wasn’t comfortable any more. His life jacket, he said, kept floating up behind his head. He looked scared. “Do you want to get out?” I asked. He nodded.

I looked at Alessandro, who seemed to be watching for signs to let him know how he should be feeling about things. Clearly, I’d have to get them both back on board the Atabeyra right away. Looking around, though, I saw that the other snorkelers had wandered quite a bit farther away from the ship than we had. We were on our own.

Somehow, fighting against small waves that seemed intent on pushing me up against the side of the boat, I got a hold of both boys and began making my way back toward the ladder (to be honest, I can’t quite remember how I did this). But it was rough going.

“I need some help here!” I called toward the ship, trying not to sound panicked and scare Alessandro and Eric any more than necessary. “Help!”

At first, no one heard me. I was less frightened than angry–angry that Alessandro’s first brave foray into snorkeling was going like this. He’d never try anything new again.

Finally, miraculously, one of the passengers–a British man, whose name I never learned but whom I will love forever–heard me, dove in, swam over, and grabbed Eric. Now I could get a good grip on my son, and quickly get us back on board.

“Don’t be scared,” I kept saying. “Just let the water carry us back. We’ll be fine.” Alessandro, braver than I’d ever expected, said nothing, and concentrated on doing exactly what I told him to do. I loved him even more than I usually do.

Back on board, Alessandro related his adventure to the other passengers like an old sailor just back from sea. I shakily retrieved my glass of wine and marveled at the fact that he didn’t seem to have been traumatized by the incident a bit (or at least had no intention of acting traumatized in front of Eric).

A little later, having calmed down somewhat as we sailed toward land in the warm, late-afternoon light, I asked Alessandro if he’d ever try snorkeling again.

“Maybe,” he said, gazing out inscrutably at the water.
(c) Nancy Bevilaqua 2008