Under the sea of Elba Island
the amazing view of a little airplane wreck
It’s a beautiful day today underwater. Above our heads the sea ripples and shines like quicksilver and a warm light filters into the blue and radiates in tones of yellow and gold. The visibility is extraordinary and there is neither suspension, nor currents. The sea is so transparent that it seems waterless and we appear to be wandering in a garden of Eden.
We follow our guide’s quick strokes of fin, his sensitive biologue look attracted by the little wonders of this otherworldly place. He points at a fan mussle, shows us some gorgonias, illuminates a nudibranch with his torch. It’s almost springtime today underwater. Anemones bloom in purple and red, corals grow in forests and fishes sparkle like mirror chimes.
It’s noon and we swim in the quiet company of our breath, staring at this hidden sight of Punta Nera, on Elba Island, with our eyes circled by a mask. Among the seaweeds, a moray stares back at me with annoyance. I don’t bother, because I know too well that morays always look rather annoyed. A curious salpa hangs above my shoulder as if to make a point that this is its world, not mine. A sea star stretches its arms under the sun and the clarity is such, that we could be ten or fifteen meters underwater. The truth is, we are at thirty, as indicated by our dive computers.
We suddenly see a glade in front of us: a prairie of posidonia where the wreck of a small touristic airplane lays on a side. It’s a dreamlike vision, whose past tragedy seems lost in the blue background. Not vanished, but transformed, this tragedy is soothed and crystallized, made alive by molluscs and corals. No more a melancolic sight, it’s just a timeless and placeless view.
I swim below the right wing and glance inside the cockpit: the small twin-engined aircraft, a Britten-Norman BN-2 Islander, which might have carried up to ten passengers, is in attitude of flight and appears as if just landed on a country airfield. We are on Elba Island, but we might be somewere else.
In a different place, where sky and sea are no more counterposed, but melt in a third world, a world apart, where everything seems possible. And everything is possible: here we can breathe underwater; here our movements are light despite the ballast we carry; here our depth can be changed by simply inflating or deflating the lungs.
The view is spellbinding as the illustration of a book of fables. Posidonia weeds gently wave in the current like a crop on a windy day, and damselfishes swim above the plane in schools. Their forked tails remind me of swallows merrily soaring in the sky. I can’t help but feeling amazed by the surreal fascination of a submarine countryside.
While I wonder if there is anything more onyrical than this scenery, the beauty of this image, together with my all-too-human love for the sea is what I retain in my mind on the my way back to dry land. I bring the image of the little plane with me, from 16 meters below the surface to the deco at three; from a yellow inflatable raft, along the stretch of sea between Elba and Piombino; from the harbour of Piombino up to my home and heart. There are worlds in the deep, that can hardly be imagined.
For reference:
Diving Center Acquanauta Marina di Salivoli – Piombino, Italy
https://www.facebook.com/groups/44314886636/
Photographers:
- The moray is by Maria Pia del Bianco
- The airplane photo is by Flavio Vitiello
The airplane by and Flavio Vitiello (https://bit.ly/2M3tu0q)
I am a freeelance writer and I live in Padova, Italy. I am a windsurfer, a scuba diver, an avid reader and a rather imaginative and creative woman. My stories were published by Sevenseas, the Italian edition of Christophorus, by Gonomad.com and by a local newspaper.
Follow my blog at: https://shapeofclouds.wordpress.com/