[January, 2004]
At breakfast one morning during our ten day live-aboard dive trip, we learned the trap, lowered the night before and
baited with chicken yielded a chambered nautilus. Cousin to the octopus, the
nautilus lives at depths of 2000 feet but rises to about 500 feet at night to
feed on crab and shrimp. No telling us twice to suit up. We descended to 60’ to
photograph and examine the mysterious creature who occasionally peeked out of
his creamy shell with tanned markings.
Although my
husband and I were both nearing 100 dives when we arrived in PNG, we had never
encountered a seahorse before. Knowing they were at Observation Point, we
carefully combed the area. Just as we were ready to give up, I looked down to
find a yellow seahorse clinging to a bit of reed in the sand near where my hand
rested. We were as excited as the shark hunters who had spotted some hammerheads
a few days earlier or the photographer who ended up in the middle of schooling
barracudas.
No one missed
the 5:30 a.m. call to rise before breakfast and go ashore to visit the Bunama
hot springs before the heat of the day made it impossible. On shore, a mother
and her children greeted us. “My children want to see the white people,” she
said. They followed us through their village to the path leading to the hot
springs about a half-mile into the jungle. The tall grasses and bushes gave way
to a clearing steaming from the boiling springs of hot mud and water bubbling
through the stone floor. We waited a few times for the geyser to perform, took
the posed tourist shots and then left as the sun was beginning to heat the
morning sky.
On the way
back through the village, a friendly teenager, proud of his pet, allowed the
braver souls to hold his five foot green tree snake. I marveled at the
simplicity of their life as we passed by the huts on stilts, mostly open with
cloth draped for some privacy, and the “kitchens” separate from the sleeping
huts that were equipped with a fire pit and some pots and pans.
A manta ray
cleaning station was scheduled for our last morning dive before returning to
Alotau and the trip home. We dropped to 30’ and surrounded a small bommie that
the mantas were known to frequent. All of us knelt in the sand, bowing to the
slight current, watching the waters around us wondering if they would come. The
sun shone down, it’s rays playing on the bommie. I suddenly realized it was
Sunday. We looked as though we were worshipping at an altar. The mantas never
appeared but there was ample opportunity to give thanks for the wonderful sights
we had seen and the people we had experienced in the paradise called Papua New
Guinea.
6 comments:
Karen - Wow, I always knew someone had my life and now I know who - you and you husband! Seriously, how cool. My wife just got back from a working pinapple farm outside of Manauga supported by our church, while I sit at home pounding on the keyboard. That you for stopping by and commenting on The Diaries of Pontius Pilate. Max Lewis
Hello Ms. Karten,
I am not sure whether or not you are the one who wrote the wodnerful story "Towel Folding," from 'The Magic of Mothers and Daughters' book of the Chicken Soup for the Soul series. The story, however, touched my heart and soothed my soul in a very positive way.
Best regards,
Hamza Balol
Saudi Arabia
Max, the grass in not always greener. Sometimes your own pasture is a lot sweeter. But do get out and smell the clover ;-)
Hamza, Thank you for the kind words. I'm glad you enjoyed my Towel Folding story.
I have read hundreds of adoption stories from the Chicken Soup various books, but I never encountered an adoptive mother who dearly loved her adopted daughter the way you loved your daughter. You loved her to the extent that the incident of the towel folding made you preserve a story in ink for the whole world to read. Mother is the one who rears and teaches not the one gives birth. Mother is the one to whom we hurry when we are troubled. The heart of a mother is a deep abyss at the bottom of which we will always find love. Your daughter was blessed with you since she floundered in the sea of your love and was covered with the waves of your unlimited care. She was blessed with the mother who steadastly held the ladder for her as she climbed to her own parenthood's step. She was blessed with the mother who found a very small trait that would connect her with her daughter. She might have outgrown your lap now, but she will never outgrow your heart.
All the best,
Hamza
Thank you for your kind words, Hamza.
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