a clump of algae tucked away on the side of a rock. No wonder it has
taken so long to track down. I pump a fist to Johan and turn back to his
second great discovery of the dive.
This is no standard-issue octopus. From mantle to legs it flows
with filaments. We watch as the octopus lifts off and with curled legs
leading swims to a neighboring rock. I glance down at my computer
—
the news isn’t good. I get Johan’s attention, and we head back
toward the slope, but luck keeps coming.
Johan stops dead in his tracks in front of another blue-ringed
octopus, this one a member of a species that frequents the strait, but
from what we’ve heard it’s the first one sighted this season. Unlike
the demure blue-ring we gloried in earlier, this bad boy is proud of
its poison and quick to flash its rings. Not caring a whiff about us, the
octopus half slips and half swims its boneless body across the bottom,
its mind focused on a crab dinner. But unfortunately there is no time
left at this depth to watch the hunt.
Basking in the glory of our three-octopus excursion during an
extended safety stop, I begin thinking about the next dive, the third
dive of the day. One never knows — it might be even better.
AD
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