Scuba Diving on the Great Mayan Reef in Puerto Morelos, Mexico

national geographic documentary 2015, A quarter century submerged, I'm resting with my knees in the sand, mindful of my breathing, mindful of the delicate shaking of my watery air I have an inclination that I'm home. I needed to figure out how to scuba plunge for a considerable length of time. Presently, here I am simply off the shore of Puerto Morelos, Mexico on the Great Mayan Reef, all the more formally known as the Mesoamerican Barrier Reef, the second biggest reef on the planet. Following a week contemplating, taking tests, and going over wellbeing systems over and over, I thought I would in any case be apprehensive diving into the profound. I wasn't. I squished my veil onto my face, fixed the straps on my BCD, wrapped my lips around my controller, and moved in reverse over the side of the jump pontoon.

national geographic documentary 2015, Presently I'm bowing on the sea depths. A coral divider towers above me to my right side and white corn flour sand extends into the blue to my left side. A jeopardized green ocean turtle snack turtle grass. Both he and the grass wave in the undersea wind. I take in and the additional air in my lungs permits me to rise gradually from the ocean bottom. I extend parallel to the base, hold my hands softly at my waist, and utilize the quality of my splendid yellow blades to push my body forward-like a fish. I mix in.

national geographic documentary 2015, A southern sting beam stows away in the sand. His obvious blueprint gives him away. He wriggles free, goes with me for a couple of yards, and covers himself once more. I skim into a living passage where fluorescent plum and gold pixie basslets dart about on a slender edge and shimmering yellow tail snapper swarm through a window in the reef. A sharp lobster abandons in reverse into his cave frantically waving his sword-like radio wire at me.

The dividers of the gully wane and I end up hovering over an undersea greenery enclosure. Hills of nubby cerebrum coral sprout from the ocean bottom like shrubberies in the midst of a field of verdant purple ocean fans. Bronze Christmas tree worms sprout like vivified blossoms, popping out, flaunting their pine-needly hair, and popping back in once more. A spotted trunk fish ripples his translucent blades. He drifts like a hummingbird, however he looks more like a kissy-lipped, squarish, spotted inflatable.

At last, I take after my rises to the surface and reluctantly move once more into the watercraft. We speed back over the water and, as I look out over its shining surface, a settled-ness wraps its arms around me. Isaac, our chief, pulls the pontoon up just about to the shoreline and stays to a yellow float. I bounce into the knee profound water and offer my new plunging pals farewell, "Hasta Luego!"