The Monster's Face

Miik and I were diving in the Illes Medes natural reserve, off the Catalan coast near L'Estartit, one of those sites where the marine life has had long enough under protection to forget it's supposed to be afraid of divers. The plan was straightforward: enter a narrow cave at thirty metres and exit through a chimney further in. Neat and clean, as plans go.

I was leading, which meant I went in first. The corridor was barely wide enough for one diver, and the light from the entrance faded quickly behind me. I could sense Miik following as I pushed further into the dark, torch beam sweeping the interior ahead. There's a particular quality to that kind of darkness, not threatening exactly, but absolute in a way that makes you very aware of the bubble of light you're carrying and what lies just beyond its edge.

About halfway through I stopped and looked back to check on Miik. We exchanged OK signals. I turned back to face forward, torch raised and ... found myself looking directly into the largest, most aggressively unimpressed face I have ever seen underwater. A massive grouper, not half a metre from my mask, mouth like a letterbox, regarding me with what I can only describe as contempt. Every drop of blood I possessed immediately relocated to my fins.

Miik, naturally, thought this was hilarious. All he could see from his position was me convulsing violently in a narrow cave tunnel for no apparent reason, which from behind must have looked genuinely bizarre. He has never once told this story without laughing before he gets to the end.

As for who was more frightened, me or the grouper, I genuinely couldn't say. What I can say is that it vanished instantly and we never saw it again for the rest of the dive. I choose to believe it was equally startled. It makes me feel better.