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FALL 2014
“A
s soon as we cross Jewfish Creek
things change,” I say half to
myself and half to Quinn, my
13-year-old grandson, who has
his nose pressed against the car
window. He is staring west, drinking in a mangrove-
lined waterway leading into Florida Bay as we near the
top of the bridge crossing Jewfish Creek — the first
and one of the tallest of 42 bridges spanning the 127-
mile stretch of U.S. 1 known as the Overseas Highway.
The historic ocean-going roadway we are about to
explore connects 37 islands of the Florida Keys before
finally running out of islands to connect at Key West.
“Your grandfather is right about that. The Keys
have a way of mellowing you out,” Anna (Nana)
affirms from the back seat, her face also pasted
against the glass.
“Hold onto your hat,” she adds as our hatchback
tops the crest and coasts down the slope toward Key
Largo. “This is going to be fun.”
Less than four hours later the three of us are zipping
over the sea on our way to
Molasses Reef
. Anna and
I have been diving more than 60 years and have made
thousands of dives, many in the Florida Keys, often at
Molasses. This will be Quinn’s first everything, and
he’s excited. He should be.
Molasses Reef is a 45-minute boat ride from our
resort on the bayside (western side) of the long,
narrow island known as Key Largo. Our vessel, with
a dozen or so divers aboard, slows to enter a house-
lined canal excavated straight through the island’s
limestone rock years ago when you could do such
things. Leaving the channel, we race across a lagoon
before slowing once again for a winding ride through a
mangrove forest. Then we’re on open sea heading for
the outer reef — a coral fortress paralleling the long
arch of 1,700 low-lying limestone islands known as the
Florida Keys, which are the remains of an ancient reef.
The reef line where we’re headed is the longest and
largest coral reef in the continental United States — a
wilderness surviving on the northern fringe of where
reef-building corals can grow. Nonetheless, the reef
is immense. If the structure weren’t interrupted here
and there toward the south it would be the fourth-
largest barrier reef on Earth. We’re fortunate to have
such a treasure on our doorstep. Like Yosemite, the
Grand Canyon and the Appalachian Trail, it’s our
heritage, it’s a part of who we are. I can’t think of a
better place for Quinn to make his first ocean dives
than on America’s reef.
Anna and I are on a mission close to our hearts: We
are introducing our grandson Quinn to diving. He
and two cousins were certified four months earlier.
The kids’ instruction was excellent, but the checkout
dives were conducted in a Florida spring basin, quite
different from making a giant stride off a boat into the
open sea. Anna and I agreed that his first reef dives
should be made with an instructor. So soon after July
4, the three of us set off on a two-week road trip to the
Florida Keys — a classic tropical destination renowned
for topnotch dive operations, fishy waters and fun.
THE BENWOOD AND THE LIST
Quinn’s time with an instructor works its magic. Two
days after arriving he is relaxed, assured and ready for
adventure; and an adventure is exactly what he gets on
the
Benwood
. This World War II-era wreck, twisted
into a tangled mass from a half-century beneath the
waves, has become a magnet for sea life. When we
arrive, the wreckage swirls with fish feeding on a big
THE NEXT GENERATION
R
E E F
A M E R I C A ’ S
T E X T B Y N E D A N D A N N A D E L O A C H
P H O T O S B Y N E D A N D A N N A D E L O A C H A N D Q U I N N R I E S C H
