Some would describe the water as tea coloured. In a Scottish lough it would be described as peaty. As I am in Trinidad I prefer to think of it as rum coloured. The taint of the water comes from the estuary of the Orinoco, one of the great rivers of the South American continent.
It is this rich dark water that had drawn me to Trinidad with the promise of something different. I certainly wouldn't find the spectacular visibility and coral reefs of other tropical locations, but anticipate a feast of interesting marine life in a darker and richer sea.
Sport diving isn't a major activity in Trinidad, almost by default most people who enquire about diving are directed to neighbouring Tobago. My host is Ricky Rampaul, an enthusiastic local instructor and owner of Trindad's only sports diving centre, Rick's Dive World. His shop and boat are located about 30 minutes drive north from Port of Spain in the marina complex at Chaguaramas.
Trinidad is separated from Venezuela to the west by the Gulf of Paria, a shallow semi-enclosed sea. Until as recently as 10,000 years ago Trinidad was joined to the South American mainland. Dive sites are along the north coast of Trinidad and amongst a chain of islands leading from Chaguaramas westwards to Venezuela.
Heading out towards Venezuela, on the south of Chacachacare island we dive a steep boulder slope known as The Kitchen, named after the kitchen of a leper colony that used to be on the island. Here the thermocline is at just 5 metres.
One of the peculiarities of diving in Trinidad is that sometimes the visibility is better in deeper water, and sometimes better in shallow water. One of the reasons we are trying this site is to look a bit deeper.
I grit my teeth and head down, feeling my way into a second thermocline at 12 metres. My dive skin and 3mm shorty wetsuit is just not enough. Once well past the obvious boundary between layers the visibility improves a little, but is still not as good as in the warmer shallow water.
I check the temperature on my dive computer. 22 degrees in the deep water; 27 degrees in the shallow water.
Further out along Chacachacare island is the Angostura wreck; the remains of a sailing ship so named after the cargo of angostura bitters it was carrying.
As Rick had hoped we soon find a large male turtle snoozing under some plates. He doesn't seem that concerned as I take a few photographs before moving on to explore the rest of the wreck.
Although a steel hull, the deck and upper parts of the ship must have been wooden because there is no trace of them left. The hull has collapsed to starboard with the only part sticking up significantly from the seabed being the rudder post. There is no sign of the rudder. Perhaps it too was made of wood.
I potter round slowly, peering under plates and into holes. Apparently this wreck sometimes has huge shoals of juvenile fish on it, but not today.
At the bows there is an anchor winch, but no sign of anchors or hawse pipes. A little further back the turtle is still there, keeping half an eye on us but not that bothered when I move in for some closer pics.
Next day the sea is just about calm enough for us to head off along the north coast. It is a bit early in the season for north coast diving, so to make the most of it the boat is loaded with bottles and I dive all day, Rick and divemaster Rafael taking turns to dive with me.
We begin at Blind Man Rock and work our way back through Creaky Rock, named after a huge leaning rock that is said to creak with the waves, Stingray Stretch where I didn't find any stingrays, but plenty of scorpionfish and a flying guernard, and a couple of as yet un-named sites.
The big shoals of fish seem to be consistently quite shallow, just above the thermocline. Or maybe it's just that I don't see them in the poorer visibility deeper down.
The oily mixing of warm and cold water adds another dimension to all the usual problems of taking pictures. At Blind Man Rock a shoal of Atlantic spadefish streams back and forth in the shallows. The view is initially clouded and unfocussed by an eddy of mixing cold water and I have to circle round to find a clearer view of them. At creaky rock I have similar problems with a shoal of porkfish.
For my final day of diving we head out along the islands again to “Favourite Point”, located at one corner of the channel that separates Chacachacare from the next island. As the name suggests, this is one of Rick's favourite dives.
He takes a look at the current poring round the corner and says “maybe later”. In the meantime we head across the channel seeking slacker water, towards a shallow reef known simply as “The Hump”.
Rick spots a pod of dolphins and grabs his camera while Rafael slows down and circles the boat. We soon pick up a few playing on the bow wave.
I ask about jumping in with snorkel and camera, but Rick advises against it. It is a family group with young and could be protective. I tie a safety rope to my camera and lean precariously over the side, firing blind when the dolphins come into range.
Eventually the dolphins get tired of the game and go back to chasing fish or whatever it is that dolphins do for fun when there are not any boats with bow waves to play on. We continue across to The Hump, where the current is noticeably ripping along, but in the opposite direction to that at Favourite Point.
Rick and I start the dive up current from the reef with the now usual dive bomb manoeuvre, empty BCDs, roll in and straight down, finding shelter behind a boulder at 7 or 8 metres.
The seabed in a maze of smooth slab-sided boulders. There are none of the sea fans and other marine turf seen on previous dives, just closely encrusting sponges looking more like splotches of bright paint and clusters of barnacles. Many old shells occupied by the now familiar blennies.
We work our way to the outside edge of the reef and watch the fish swim by. It catches us both by surprise when we spot a manta ray flying up-current with seemingly no effort at all.
I manage one shot before it comes in so close I can't fit it all in the frame, then banks and turns across the current to wheel out of sight. It seems really weird to see such a fish against a green background rather than the more usual blue water. We cut across and down current, hoping to spot the manta again as it completes its turn, but without luck.
Later at Favourite Point the water has slackened a little, but not as much as Rick would have liked. The seabed is again different. We are soon on sloping ledges covered with a dense carpet of white and red sea fans, swimming hard to get across the current and hide behind some pinnacles further out. A pair of French angelfish follow us all the way, swimming angled strangely off the vertical and into the current.
There are no loose boulders here. The reef has been etched out of layered bedrock, tight cracks and slots reach back into exposed edges. Depending on their size, home to spiny lobsters, arrow crabs and a wide assortment of blennies.
We work down to 20 metres with no trace of a thermocline. It's a beautiful dive to finish on, the sort of dive that leaves me wanting more. But next time I will bring a thicker wetsuit; a 5mm steamer would be about right for the deeper dives.