It was a day like any other.
I woke with the sun, greeting its first rays while the island of Vieques slept. I watched as the last stars evaporated and the sky transformed from rich violet into soft blues, coral and crimson. The few clouds, ringed with fire, hung idle over the glassy Caribbean.
I took my coffee (Puerto Rican Cafe Yacono) with honey and steamed milk, and savored the slow transition from dawn into day. A few handfuls of cracked corn appeased the chickens, who gathered beneath my porch-outpost in their customary fashion.
My day's technical tasks were completed in the short hours it took my wife to stir from her slumber and join the day. Our first matter-at-hand was breakfast, in our customary fashion: Fried eggs, fried queso pais and fried amarillos paired with toast and parcha jam.
With this urgent matter behind us, we were free to spend the remainder of the morning as we saw fit. "What day is it?" Kim inquired. "Tuesday?" I offered. Seems I was right.
Midday approached when Jonathan, companion and cohort, made his appearance. We had him identified long before his arrival. We've learned to identify drivers by nuances in their vehicles and habits; His high-revving Isuzu Trooper with the over-stressed suspension announced his approach.
A short conversation elapsed, perhaps a few dozen words, before we were seated in said Isuzu and on our way down the hill. "He's new," I mused to myself. "Always rushing. Island time will catch up to him soon enough." We had a short drive, past some of the finest beaches on the planet, before arriving at our destination.
Navio beach. Well-worth braving the rolling, unpaved roads. Several hundred yards of curving beach, flanked by rough, fossil-studded cliffs, backed by palms and sea grapes. We shared the sands with perhaps a dozen other sun-seekers, but our attentions remained with the Caribbean sea and Navio's curling shore-breaks.
Unlike many Vieques beaches, Navio experiences near-constant wave action. The twin cliffs only amplify the effects, creating impressive waves that become fierce with the right combination of currents and tides. This day was uncommon in that the waters were unusually clear. The rare opportunity for good snorkeling was not going to escape us.
We geared up and approached the left-side cliff when Kim, ever amicable, conversed with another beachgoer. I overheard what I could and translated the Spanish to the best of my ability. I learned that his name was Damien, he and his cousin, Federico, were visiting Vieques from Argentina, and he was interested in joining us for our snorkeling excursion.
The combination of forceful waves and jagged rocks normally dissuade most from swimming around Navio's cliffs, but the rumor of underwater caves was too alluring for spirits such as ours. The four of us, all skilled swimmers, made it around the first bend and out of sight of Navio beach. We reached the area that matched the description provided to Jonathan, and began our search for caves.
Jon was the first to spot the cave some 12 feet below the surface; an opening 4 feet across that met with the sandy bottom. We treaded water as the waves smashed against rock, sending cascades of frothy water upwards. The discussion turned to who would further investigate this cave, and though silent, the nomination went to myself.