“We were all reduced to little children, gleefully splashing and giggling excitedly. And then, suddenly, the real magic hit me. I became aware of the sky.”

At the time that I was living in New York, in the early 2000s, I had heard of Vieques, but not quite for the best reasons. The Caribbean island had long been used as a bombing test site by the U.S. Navy—until 2003, when after years of protest by frustrated Puerto Ricans, the occupiers were finally forced to shut shop and leave.

But man’s destructive ways have little legacy in the face of nature’s resilience and tenaciousness. Within barely a couple of years of the Navy’s departure, the once-battered Puerto Rican isle was becoming a sought-after destination; nature’s resurrection was well underway.

“I wanted to experience one of the world’s few bioluminescent bays”

Vieques offer a range of ways to commune with nature, including a rainforest to trek through and underground caves for spelunkers to explore. I headed instead for Mosquito Bay; I wanted to experience one of the world’s few bioluminescent bays. I was deeply intrigued and before long had found my way to the southern side of the island to experience what promised to be a remarkable phenomenon.

It was late evening when the small group of travellers that we comprised had gathered by the edge of the bay. We were in complete darkness. No lights of any kind were permitted as they would interfere with and diminish the entire ecologically rich experience. We were each led to a rubber raft to row behind the guide, who held up barely visible light. I lowered my oars into the water and squinted my way along, eyes fixed on the tiny red beacon. About ten minutes into our journey towards the centre of the bay I began to notice little shimmers of light emanating from below. Each time my oar hit the water a burst of glitter would flash within. It was thrilling.

“We were all reduced to little children, gleefully splashing and giggling excitedly.”

By the time we had reached far enough into the sheltered bay our guide told us to stop rowing. I pulled my oars in and waited for the next instruction. “Jump in,” he said. “Everybody get in the water.” I wasted no time and fell over the edge of my raft into the gorgeously warm pool. As I landed I was greeted by an explosion of light around me. Every time I splashed or agitated the water in any way tiny dots of light would explode into a brief radiance and then subside. It was as if the microorganisms were dancing and playing with me. We were all reduced to little children, gleefully splashing and giggling excitedly.

“I was sandwiched between a spectacular radiance that beamed from the sky above as well as the waters below and around me.”                            

And then, suddenly, the real magic hit me. I became aware of the sky. In the absence of any ambient light for miles around the vast firmament had turned into an enormous black canvas through which billions of points of light were shining down on me. I was sandwiched between a spectacular radiance that beamed from the sky above as well as the waters below and around me. No words of exclamation would suffice, no adjectives could describe the feeling. I was transported to an indescribable state of being. All I could feel was total humility before the incredible magnificence that is nature. That night off Vieques will always stay with me. And I will always be reminded of the need to respect, preserve and care for the planet that supports and nourishes us as she does all her children.