Cape Town's Under Wonder

You don’t have to go deep into the ocean to discover amazing underwater worlds – the Cape Peninsula has several great places where you can go snorkelling within easy access of the shore.

- Helen Walne

The first time I see a spotted gully shark, I chase it. I take a shallow, hungry breath, do a messy duck dive and plunge into the kelp, finning furiously after the large grey shape. One quick flick of its tail and it’s gone. Back on the surface I’m yabbering and making squeaking noises. My more experienced dive buddies are silent and possibly grimacing.

A few weeks later, I come across a short-tail stingray in the same bay. I chase after that too, clutching a borrowed GoPro, trying to keep up with the ray, which flies like a war machine above the sand and disappears. I chase pyjama sharks, red romans, seals, octopus… I hunt with my camera, thrashing through the kelp, panting on the surface, my eyes too quick, my cold fingers growing numb.

I’m such a wally.

Now, four years later, things have thankfully slowed down. Like meditation, freediving is an evolving practice. It requires a strange and constant balancing – of being aware of your surroundings but equally lost in the moment; of holding your breath while not being a prisoner of your inhalation; of being still and quiet in sometimes wild and turbulent waters; of inhabiting your body and mind while releasing your thoughts. It’s best to not be a wally.

The light helps. On a perfect day in Cape Town’s seas, when the visibility is window-clear and the sun burns overhead, the kelp fronds are golden ribbons and crevices packed with anemones glitter and glow. In those moments it’s possible to lie on the seabed holding onto a kelp stalk and be still, and watch, and forget to remember until there’s that knot in your throat, that longing in your chest, and you’re forced to reluctantly rise to the surface for air.