Coral Reef Travel

With the bright lights of the Cyclone, Wonder Wheel and Nathan’s Famous Hot Dogs as its backdrop, Coney Island seems an unlikely place to go diving. But local enthusiasts will tell you, with a note of Brooklyn pride, that there’s more action below water than above it.

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When the Obey River was dammed in 1944, water backed up for 61 miles through the mountainous valleys of northern Tennessee and southern Kentucky. Directly in the path of the rising tide was the small town of Willow Grove-three general stores, a blacksmith shop, a post office and one service station that were swallowed whole by the newly formed Dale Hollow Lake.

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Sleeping With the Fishes

Eat, sleep, dive. What could be better than the routine of live-aboard diving? Maximum bottom time, minimum travel time. All the comforts of home, on the reef.

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This strangely clinical thought occurred to me as I counted more than 50 silky sharks passing between me and the psychological safety of the steel trellis supporting the Mobil High Island 389 natural gas platform: When encountering numerous predatory sharks, one should have a cage nearby.

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You’re cruising along a series of fish-filled undercuts located less than a mile offshore from the towering string of high-rises lining the Atlantic shoreline of Palm Beach, Fla., when your eye catches a flick of movement deep inside a dark recess. The beam from your dive light reveals one of the most exquisite fish you have ever seen. Apparently mesmerized by the light, the little reddish four-inch beauty with purple highlights and two brilliant yellow body stripes pauses for several seconds before darting from view. “Wow,” you think. “What was that? Maybe someone on the boat will know.”

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