Beautiful and repulsive, mysterious and menacing, I find jellyfish to be impossibly constructed and hard to fathom. Even Spongebob fears them. Beached, they look like some large ungodly snotter cast asunder for all to see, like the sad remnants of a rotting, over-ripened combination of mangos, shredded Victoria Secrets undergarments, and torn Safeway plastic bags.
However, just below the surface, gently bobbing in our oceans, these lingeriel leftovers appear to glide deliberatively with the grace of angels. When you look a little deeper into the subject you realize that these gelatinous globs are all individually, ever so slightly, different in color, shade, texture, construction and pattern, which amazes me given that they swarm in the millions like some briny, morphing mushroom pea soup. The variations are diminutive but discernable, and this is from a guy who still can’t tell Matt and Ben apart—my six-foot three twin first cousins once removed.
In this medium-sized oil treatment, the cautious diver is shown respectfully avoiding the deadly touch of the Mastigias papua—the Papauan Jellyfish, or as it is known commonly throughout the Indo-Pacific, the Golden Medusa. In an oblique nod to the artist’s hero and luminary, Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio, the aquanaut’s hair drifts chaotically in the ocean current, much like the serpent-laden head of the feared Gorgon, Medusa.
When first I heard mention of the German Channel I immediately thought of Das Boot reruns: The 1980’s subtitled epic adventure of a motley bunch of ruggedly handsome Deutsche submariners scuttling assorted allied ships in the Mediterranean and Atlantic during World War II. My second thought was that of a pant-suited Chancellor Angela Merkel giving some long and detailed speech on the state of the European economy in the Bundestag.
But this was a markedly different German channel, more sound than vision: A massive, manmade water passage joining two remote islands in faraway Micronesia. Created over one hundred years ago, this fritzian furrow is an underwater gully flowing with color in an otherwise monotonic and unimpressive shallow sandy sea. Turns out that the corralled crevasse, originally dredged for commerce, von den Deutschen, has become a fabulous, world-class Scuba diving site.
The walls of the manmade trench appear to have created a near-perfect environment for coral colonies to prosper, and as we know, with healthy, vibrant coral comes almost everything else we want to thrive in our waters. Furthermore, strong ocean currents funnel the water through the trench like a burgeoning monsoon river. This curious combination of rush and reef makes for an aquatic adventure that would impress and excite even Squidward. Never mind the Scuba, just float on the surface with snorkel gear and fly like Eddie the Eagle ray over large diverse coral colonies, shivers of reef sharks, balls of parrotfish, groupies of grouper and regiments of Napoleon wrasse: And some of these fish are pretty darn big. Importantly, have your knowledgeable boat operator drop you at the starting line and follow you all the way to the end so that you can focus exclusively on taking in the world class views below.