Scuba Diving at Lehua Rock, Ni’ihau Island
Posted by: zursch on June 27th, 2007Contest Suggestion#15
At the extreme western end of the Hawaiian islands lies the “forbidden island” of Ni’ihau. The island is entirely owned by a mainland family, who purchased it from the King of Hawaii in the 19th century. Ni’ihau is home to about 160 native Hawaiians who live in the traditional manner. Permission to visit the island is almost never granted and it is against Hawaiian law to land there.
But off the north shore of the island, a lava cone rises about 100 feet above the water. Around this extinct volcano, called Lehua Rock, are some of the best snorkeling and diving spots in the Hawaiian islands. About 500 people each year are lucky enough to land a spot on a boat headed for Lehua. This year, I was lucky enough to twice visit this diving location on the far edge of the world, and make five of the greatest dives of my life.
The channel crossing is smooth as you leave Kauai in the morning. The boat hands troll for Ahi and Mahi-Mahi as you cross the channel. The journey is 35 nautical miles, and takes about 2 hours. The deck hands call this part of the journey the “downhill” direction for reasons that become obvious later.
Lehua is crescent-shaped, with the crescent open to the north. From this spot, the next land to the north is Alaska, to the south past Ni’ihau the next land is Antarctica, and to the west, the Philippines. The Hawaiian islands are the most isolated islands on Earth, and you’re now at the far edge of even those tiny hills.
Around the far side of Lehua, the boat backs into a crack in the lava cone. “We call this spot the Keyhole” says the captain. The currents are forcing the boat into the rocks. “Everybody in - we can’t hang around!” shouts the captain as 10 divers pile into the water like paratroopers.
The first thing you notice in the water at Keyhole is that it’s crystal clear. Then you look down and realize that the steep walls of the volcanic cone continue straight into deep water. In the ancient fissure of the Keyhole, about a dozen gray and white-tipped sharks are swimming lazily. These are my first Hawaiian reef sharks, but they won’t be my last.
People say that waters are teeming with life, but you don’t get the reality of that statement until you dive in a place like the Keyhole. Imagine a crowded tropical fish tank in a restaurant, and that’s what it’s like. Suddenly, you’re part of the aquarium.
After a brief period watching the sharks - and realizing that not one of them has ever gone hungry - the guides take us out of the sheltered hole and into the current. “When you see us
grab hold of the rock and hang on, you do the same,” they had told us. The reason becomes obvious as soon as you leave the shelter of the cove. The current grabs you and you start moving in the general direction of Japan at a fast swimming clip. There’s nothing to do but hold on to whatever rock you can find. Fortunately, there’s a lot of that around.
By and by the divemasters let go and float along in the current. Now the fish species change to Travally and Chubs - deeper water fish. As you float along, you’re passing whole fields of coral and pockmarked lava fields that have been sitting undisturbed in this warm shallow water for upwards of 25 million years. As divers begin to run short of air, the divemasters inflate a bright balloon and send it to the surface, so the boat can pick us up.
Our next stop is a site called Vertical Awareness, on the southwest corner of Lehua. Here the lava flowed out and formed a flat mesa 30 feet below the waves, and then drops off in a sheer cliff to a depth of 400 feet. As you go over the edge, you can’t see the ocean bottom, but like an angel, you can fly along this underwater skyscraper and peer into the homes of its inhabitants - octopus, hawkfish, turkeyfish, and sea urchins. Cowries and Wrasses and more animals than you thought possible. And a familiar Monk Seal that the boat hands call “Oscar.”
After another cruise around the rock, the captain anchors the boat in the narrow channel between Lehua and Ni’ihau - barely a quarter mile of water separates them. We have arrived at Ni’ihau Arches. This is a set of underwater caves, and the divemasters hand out flashlights to those of us willing to take the plunge.
As we enter the water, we’re divided into two groups, and I’m in the second group. We enter the water - much colder here from the deep ocean currents that flow between the two islands - and head for the caves.
As I swim towards the cave, two things happen at once - the divemaster turns around and frantically tries to bring his video camera into action, and I feel someone swimming next to me. I look to my right and it’s not a someone; it’s a White-Tipped Reef Shark at least 8 feet long, close enough that I could easily reach over and grab his dorsal fin. But while I’m an adventurer, I’m not stupid and I’m happy to say I’m still typing this with two hands.
The shark is upset that we have invaded his cafeteria, and he lets us know by buzzing our group a few more times, snapping his jaws and flicking his tail. We proceed on through the caves, but nothing else comes close to the thrill of being that close to nature’s most well-adapted predator.
As we exit the water, another diver asks me, “When did you notice the shark?” I reply that I saw him when he was next to me. The diver shakes his head and says “He came up directly behind you, headed right for your feet. When he was just a foot or two behind you, you kicked out with your fins and he broke right and buzzed you.”
Okay. All right.
It’s a good thing that the diving at Lehua is so exquisite, because the ride home would challenge Davy Jones himself. 8 to 10 foot seas come up in the afternoon and the ride home is 3 hours of solid pitching and yawing. Some of the divers get sick, and no one looks especially healthy. “Is this the uphill road?” I ask. “You got it, boss,” says the deckhand.
But seasickness doesn’t last, and memories do.
June 27th, 2007 at 5:56 pm
Scuba diving has to be in my future - thanks for the excellent idea!