Excerpt: Whitsundays, Here We Come!

I stuck the snorkel into my mouth and blew through it, as I had been taught. Then, taking all my courage in my hands, I shoved my head under the water. This was something I found very difficult, psychologically. It was an irrational fear. I knew it was, and I knew there was no way I was going to drown, but the fear was still there.
But somehow this time it was easier. Perhaps it was because I’d done it several times now, or it may just be that I was doing it this time off my own bat. No-one was standing behind me, telling me to ‘just do it. You’ll be fine’.
The water was very clear. I suppose that should have surprised me, considering how much the waves in the morning must have been mucking about with the sand on the sea bed. But it was fine. I could see the rocks on the bottom and the sand between them quite clearly. I swam away from the boat, and saw the anchor chain stretching down from the bow to where it had caught on a rock. Over to the left, a shoal of brightly coloured fish darted here and there. Beautiful, they were. Reds and turquoise blues and yellows.
Then I saw a sea turtle. I stopped, and hung I the water, letting my legs drop, and watched it. It was huge, probably a metre in length. It seemed to be just ignoring me. Either that or it had decided I was unthreatening. Or maybe it just did not see me. Slowly it moved in my direction, its head moving from side to side and its mouth opening and closing. Its legs moved in a kind of doggy-paddle. I realised that if it continued on the same path, it would come right past me! I stayed where I was, moving only my hands in small circles to keep myself in the same place, until it was close to me. So close in fact that I was able to stretch out my hand and touch its back.
I don’t know what I expected it to feel like. Cold and slithery, perhaps. But it wasn’t. The shell was warm to the touch and felt like smooth well-tanned leather. As it passed me by, I turned and followed it, keeping my hand on its back, and hoping it would not suddenly change direction and head for the sea bed. But instead it broke the surface to take a breath. We were facing the boat, and squinting through the wet goggles, I could see Danny leaning over the side. I lifted my free arm and gave a small wave. He turned and yelled behind him, and just then my turtle dropped his head back below the surface.
They usually take two breaths before disappearing.
My hand was still on his back when he surfaced again, and this time Mum was there – with the camcorder.
She got me on tape, swimming with a turtle!
My turtle wasn’t hanging about though. He took another breath and ducked below the surface again, swimming down towards the rocks, much deeper that I could go. I watched him disappear with an odd feeling of regret.