CURRENT LOCATION: Tied to a mooring ball near Cayo Pirata, in Ensenada Honda, Culebra, Puerto Rico

18 18.400' N, 065 17.842' W

Today we decided it might be a nice day to have lunch over on Luis Peña, a small island directly to the west of Culebra. There is a nice beach tucked into a little bay on the southwest corner of the island, and we can do a bit of snorkeling after lunch. From our current location near Cayo Pirata, it is a three-mile kayak paddle in each direction:



The trip across was comparatively simple, with a southeast wind and wave pushing us in the general direction of Luis Peña. Still, though, it always seems to take longer than it initially appears it should to make such a crossing. Distances across water can be deceptive, and by the time we cleared Punta Melones (with the southern tip of Luis Peña in clear sight) we still had over a mile of open water to cross before we would round the point of that tiny island. Eventually we entered the calmer waters of the bay and landed the kayaks on the beach.



By the time we arrived we were famished, and the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches never tasted better. Mine especially, because I like to slice up a banana (when available) and add it to the gooey mixture between the bread. Today's banana was just the perfect level of ripeness, which in this climate is a very rapidly moving target.

After a short stroll on the beach, we decided to grab our snorkel gear and enter the underwater world. The last time we were out at Luis Peña, we snorkeled the area south of the beach. On this occasion, we entered the water from the north end of the beach and continued northward to meander through this new maze of coral.

Every time we go snorkeling it is a wonderful experience; however, we do it often enough now that the fish we see are mostly familiar ones. In fact, Sheryl's efforts at identifying the fish she photographs has turned her into an incredibly knowledgeable diver. My fish naming abilities; however, have lagged behind. I spent a little time reviewing her fish photos before we departed the boat today, in an effort to memorize as many common fish names as possible. While in the water, I practiced what I had learned by keeping an internal dialog running in my head, "What is that fish?"..."A Banded Butterfly"..."A Male Stoplight Parrotfish"..."A Smooth Trunkfish"..."And, oh look, there is a French Grunt and a Bluestriped Grunt, together in the same patch of coral. Now, I can certainly tell the difference between the two!"

Of course, my mind is much more akin to a colander than to a steel trap, so I often look at a fish I should know but find that the name has since slipped away from my very porous brainpan. No problem, though, I am traveling with an expert. I simply pop my head above water, spit out my snorkel tube, and shout, "Sheryl, what is this one?" With her eyes, she follows the direction of my extended underwater forefinger, then returns to the surface. "A Juvenile Beaugregory," she will reply.

For me, learning is best done when there is a purpose. One very specific purpose for knowing all the fish Sheryl has identified is so that I can help find new fish. Today, I was lucky enough to do just that. While swimming just slightly ahead of her, I spotted something big in the water (and no, this time it was not a ray). When the expert drew near, we conferred. This was certainly something we had not seen before. It had the coloring of a Scrawled Cowfish and the shape of an Orangespotted Filefish. However, it was much, much larger than either. While the two aforementioned fish may run six to ten inches long, this thing was nearly three feet in length and at least a foot in width:



Upon returning to the boat, we discovered that we had encountered a Scrawled Filefish. This fish had an elongated snout with the mouth positioned facing upward. This appeared to make it somewhat challenging for the poor fish to feed. He had to turn himself sideways in order to nibble on some coral. Another neat feature of this creature was its ability to change color. Notice the differences in the photos below:





With our 'new fish' goal for the day accomplished, we decided that it was time to face the task of paddling back to Culebra. Since we were now going to be pushing into the wind and waves, it was not something we were looking forward to. The wind picked up quickly as our inflatable bows pointed their way out of the relative protection of the bay.

Big waves look more ominous than they actually are. As long as we kept away from the ones which were breaking over rocks on the southern tip of Luis Peña, we would have no problems. The kayaks are quite good at cutting through the water and gliding over the waves. The wind, on the other hand, is what slows our progress the most. With the strong headwind we were facing, we had to keep paddling constantly in order to prevent the kayaks from being blown sideways and slipping backwards. An hour of continuous paddling was required in order to reach the calm waters of the canal. One final burst of effort propelled us across Ensenada Honda and brought us home.

Before closing this entry, I want to draw attention to the fact that I have re-organized many of the links to the left. Most have the same content, but the top 'Photos:... ' link (which continues to the Present) is constantly being updated. There you will find all of the wonderful fish photos (labeled with appropriate names) that Sheryl has worked so hard to collect and identify. In addition, you will find pictures of local flowering plants (like the Flamboyant Tree shown in today's lead photo), and other snapshots of the beauty around us. I am particularly fond of the 'bees on bananas' photo (go look to see what I am talking about).

If that isn't enough incentive to regularly review Sheryl's most recent postings, how about this incredible sunset shot?