Twilight on the reef is a magical time.

Story & Photos By Kelly Currington

The Turks & Caicos Islands are famous for the powder-white, sugar-sand beaches and stunning turquoise water; they attract hundreds of thousands of visitors to the country every year. For divers, it’s the wonders of what lies beyond where sand meets sea and beneath the surface of that aquamarine water that brings them here.

Both twilight and dawn are magical times on the colorful reefs of the Turks & Caicos Islands.

One of my favorite things to write about is diving in the place that stole my heart so many years ago. The gorgeous reefs and dramatic walls of the Turks & Caicos Islands are the main attraction for most divers, and the clear, warm, mild conditions welcome all levels of diving experience, making it the perfect place to blow bubbles. These reefs are home to a large variety of marine life, from the tiniest of creatures like shrimp, slugs, blennies, and some nudibranchs, to the larger critters like sharks, turtles, rays, and the occasional pelagic visitor like great hammerheads and mantas. During the months of January through April, the annual migration of the North Atlantic humpback whales brings them through the TCI on both ends of their journey. We have it all!

When it comes to the ocean, most divers have an embedded appreciation and respect for the reefs, the eco-system, and the animals because it’s what they have come here to experience. They see it through different eyes than non-divers who have not had the privilege of feeling the connection to Mother Ocean.

When you talk to non-divers and ask them what they love about the ocean, the usual responses are the sound of the waves, the beautiful turquoise color, the smell of the salty air, and that they are intrigued by the mystery of what’s below. All of these are valuable attributes, but there is only so much you can know about the ocean until you have ventured into her womb.

Those who wander into the depths and are changed forever will talk to you about the way the ocean makes them “feel” instead of what they “think” about it. They feel weightless underwater, they feel free underwater, they feel alive underwater, and they feel more comfortable underwater than on land. All of these come from the intimacy of bonding with the ocean, and it is a soul-saturating and transformative experience when it happens.

Slipping below the surface of the waves with the sunlight streaming through clear water creates a stunning backdrop for the perfect dive. Perusing the reef in the company of the creatures that call it home is such an amazing experience. The profusion of life fills all the senses—tiny shrimp hiding in the crevices and peeking out, blennies popping out of their abandoned worm holes, rays gliding across the sea floor, turtles meandering through the coral, and sharks passing by to check out the intruders in their home. This is what dive enthusiasts crave—the ability to share space with these residents in the magnificent underwater world.

We are all connected to Mother Ocean, as her survival determines our own survival as a species. Learning her anatomy, heartbeat, and needs are crucial if we want to protect her, and ultimately ourselves. Unquestionably, diving allows us to get up-close and personal.

As a dive professional, I have experienced the magic of the ocean thousands of times. It is part of who I am and affects how I perceive everything. Though each dive contributes to this bond, there is one particular dive that I will remember for the rest of my life. It is “The One” where I heard Mother Ocean’s heartbeat and felt her life.

The crepuscular dive

Nightime on the reef brings out creatures typically tucked away in dens during the day. The Green moray eel is getting cleaned after night hunting.

The moon was still suspended high in the sky and the ocean was calm and mysterious as I slipped below the surface into the dimly lit world. The dive started as any other night dive. Using a low lumens torch, I descended slowly, allowing my eyes to adjust to the darkness. I made my way along the reef exploring every nook and cranny in hopes of observing all the night creatures that come out to hunt in the cloak of darkness. In this environment, there were no signs of reef fish flitting about—they were all tucked away and out of sight in an attempt to evade the dangers of night. Crabs, lobsters, and eels were visibly hunting, a complete opposite of their behavior during the day when they stay in their dens. Octopus melted over the coral, probing every crevice with their arms looking for hidden snacks. Parrotfish were frozen in place, their colors blending into the coral, and butterfly fish laid motionless against the sea floor, using the darkness to escape predation. Big shadows cast by blackjacks were visible in my peripheral, ready to swoop in and nab any unfortunate creature illuminated by my torch. (This is why you never shine your torch directly on any creature—you render them helpless and ultimately can cost them their life.) So far, this was a normal night dive . . .

Over the next thirty minutes, I became inherently aware of a shift in the energy on the reef. With every blink there was a different pulse. It’s strange how you process things in this calm and tranquil environment. The number of night creatures was lessening. Though I never “saw” them leave or hide, they were just gone. The night sounds were getting fainter, and I could sense the presence of a powerful force.

I was suddenly enveloped in a stillness and a type of silence that is very difficult to describe with words. It was as if Mother Ocean was resting for a brief time to ready herself for the approaching day. I was witnessing the most magical time on the reef, those few moments between the darkness of night and the safety of the morning light, where the moon has not yet set, but the sun is just starting to peek at the edge of the horizon. There is no movement anywhere on the reef. Every creature has vanished, not a single piece of soft coral sways, and the sand is as motionless as a photograph, just complete stillness. I was alone in the belly of Mother Ocean, feeling like I was the only soul on Earth, yet more alive and safe than I had ever felt before. 

The Channel clinging crab hunts for prey at night.

It was here, in these few moments, that I could hear my pulse beating around me. I felt my miniscule presence in the vastness of Mother Ocean’s womb, completely connected, feeling her rhythm and her electric soul. I was so grounded and comforted by this powerful energy that my entire emotional circuit had morphed and was seamlessly moving with the ocean, my life matching her cadence.

I floated there, motionless in time, every one of my senses alive and raw, absorbing the enchanted spell that had been cast. I could feel the ocean on my fingertips, I could see the micro-movements of the ebb and flow, I could hear the coral breathing, I could taste her salty blood, I could smell her essence. My vestibular system was perfectly balanced and I was more spatially aware than ever before. A type of peace and contentment washed over me that can only be described as an out-of-body experience, and my entire mind, body, and soul were all joined in this moment. THIS is the real Twilight Zone, and it is a special place . . . I was home. 

My trance was interrupted by movement that had been absent during the twilight minutes. I stared at the coral in the faint light and noticed a couple of tiny wrasse popping in and out of the crevices, only venturing a few inches out of their safe haven before darting back inside. In a few blinks, there were more tiny fish (I call them ocean confetti) moving above the coral. Then my attention was drawn to the dim glow of light now blanketing the reef, and I realized the sun was rising and the night had crept away silently.

The Awakening

At night, the Caribbean spiny lobster goes from being the hunted to the hunter.

Within ten minutes, the stillness had vanished as the cover of darkness was replaced by penetrating light from the morning sun, providing safety for the diurnal creatures as they stirred from their night slumber. The reef started buzzing with life again, like a switch had been flipped and when the lights came on, the party started. The energy was full of activity and life. Grunts and snappers were schooling, reef sharks glided slowly along the edge of the reef, parrotfish changed out of their camouflage pajamas into their vibrant day colors and were having breakfast and making new sand. (Fact: 70% of TCI sand is made from parrotfish poop.) Stingrays were floating over the sand scouting for buried fare, blennies were waking up and looking out their doors, and soft corals swayed with the ocean’s heartbeat. The reef had awakened to a new dawn. Those who had survived the hazards of darkness now had another chance to participate in the circle of life. 

The experience of witnessing those twilight moments will never leave me; it was an honor. It reminds me of how precious and fragile life is and how we need to protect it at all costs. I have done hundreds of crepuscular dives since, and I am awestruck every time by the awareness those few moments of quiet and stillness provide, and how they center and balance every part of me.

By all accounts I am a creature girl, and I cherish encounters with the tiniest to the largest of inhabitants, but that intimate bond with Mother Ocean gave me a new understanding of her soul. I wish every person could experience that feeling because it would instill a strong desire to protect her. 

When the first rays of sunlight dawn on the horizon and begin to appear on the reef, all motion stops for a few moments.

Always remember when entering her domain that you are a visitor and responsible for keeping her healthy and respecting her anatomy. Show her love, respect, and humility, and she, in turn, will reward you with the most unimaginable treasures.

The waters of the Turks & Caicos are some of the most beautiful and calm in the world, so getting the chance to dive them is an honor. Please make the conscious effort to slow down and observe the glorious bounty she presents. From the ocean to you: Respect and protect.

Of Mother Ocean, Kelly Currington says, “My heart beats for her, my soul craves to be in her womb, and my mind only calms when I’m wrapped in her arms. We are connected forever. The ocean is my home.”