Bioluminescence

It was a beautiful night. Not a cloud hung in the sky and the stars shone bright. The splash of the oars and the chirps of the crickets were the only sounds in the crisp night air. All four of us, crammed in the dinghy, gazed out at the water of the harbor. We were rowing around in Bio Bay, a cove on the southern side of Vieques. Bio Bay is full of bioluminescence. (Shocker!) Bioluminescence comes from a tiny marine organism smaller than a crumb that, when disturbed, glows a pale neon green. They are rather like under water fireflies except much more dense. 

The farther we rowed into the cove, the more the bioluminescence glowed. When an oar dipped into the water, it became shrouded in a pale green cloud. As we moved forward, the bow of the dinghy pushed the water out of the way, and with it the bioluminescence, making the water's surface dappled with glowing lights. Each speck only glowed for less than a second but that just gave it the illusion of sparkling stars on the surface. 

The fish were amazing too. Whenever they swam, they left a fading trail of pale green light behind them. This gave us the privilege of seeing their every move. They looked a lot like flaming comets shooting across our view of the water. I remembered the time, anchored off South Georgia, when the wind was so strong it sent sheets of water up to race across the surface. That was smoke on the water, this is fire in the water, I thought as I trailed my hand below the surface, creating the illusion I was holding a ball of emerald flame. 

For nearly an hour, we watched in awe of the fish and the glowing water. Slowly, we rowed back out of the bay to Sila. Because we were anchored outside of the bay, we were able to swim off the boat. Hurriedly, Porter and I put on our swim trunks and leapt in the water. It was the weirdest swimming sensation I have ever felt. With my eyes closed I felt normal, but as soon as I opened them it was a completely different experience. I seemed to be engulfed in a glowing cloud. Whenever I moved a hand or foot, a trail of misty green streamed behind me then shimmered out of existence. Daddy, watching us swim, remarked that he could see our every stroke or kick by the trail it left. When I was still, the clouds of mist I had churned up faded; they were replaced by sparks dancing up and down my skin as they bumped into me and glowed into existence.

When I put on a snorkel, I received a shock. Looking down, I saw blackness in the water except for the pale emerald outline of me. I was shocked because this was creepy. When I waved my hand it looked less like a glowing cloud because I could make out each individual organism; it looked more like drifting glitter in the water. Also, the underside of the boat was like a city. The glowing sparks clung to Sila's hull like the many lights of cars and houses seen from far above. When I finally got out, my head was still swimming with wonder at the illuminated ocean. It was a beautiful night. Not a cloud hung in the sky and the stars shone bright. But not as bright as the bioluminescence that inspired so much awe.-JackRabbit