Before a dive, I often hear the same question:
“Are there turtles here?”
Or:
“What are the chances of seeing an octopus?”
Sometimes it’s sharks.
Sometimes dolphins.
Sometimes seahorses.
And that’s completely understandable.
Of course we all hope for special encounters.
I do too.
But over the years, I’ve started thinking about it differently.
We are entering their world
When we dive, we enter someone else’s home.
Not ours.
The fish.
The turtles.
The octopuses.
The moray eels.
They live there every day.
We’re simply visitors.
Wildlife isn’t an attraction
Perhaps we’ve become used to planning everything.
When we travel, we expect to see certain landmarks.
Restaurants.
Museums.
Famous viewpoints.
But the ocean doesn’t work on a schedule.
A turtle doesn’t have an appointment with us.
An octopus isn’t waiting behind the next rock.
And that’s exactly what makes those encounters so special.
Disappointment often begins with expectations
Sometimes divers leave the water saying:
“We didn’t really see anything today.”
And I often wonder:
Did they really see nothing?
Or simply nothing that was on their personal wish list?
Maybe there wasn’t a shark.
But there was a tiny crab.
Maybe no turtle.
But an incredible school of barracudas.
Or simply a dive filled with light, silence and calm.
Every encounter is a gift
That’s how I believe we should see marine life.
Not as something we’re entitled to.
Not as part of the programme.
But as a gift.
Something that may happen.
But doesn’t have to.
That’s what makes it valuable
Imagine seeing the same turtle on every dive.
Eventually, it might become ordinary.
It’s precisely because wildlife encounters aren’t guaranteed that they remain unforgettable.
I still remember animals I only saw for a few seconds.
Not because they stayed.
But because the moment was unique.
Respect begins with our expectations
Perhaps our behaviour changes naturally when our expectations change.
We stop chasing animals.
We stop surrounding them for photographs.
We accept when they choose to hide.
Because they don’t owe us anything.
This connects perfectly with “The Perfect Photo Isn’t Worth Stressing an Animal.”
The dive was still beautiful
Some of my favourite dives contained very few large animals.
And yet I remember them vividly.
Because the light was incredible.
Because the atmosphere was peaceful.
Because I shared the dive with good friends.
Or simply because it felt wonderful to be underwater.
Not every memory needs a shark.
Perhaps the ocean owes us only one thing
The opportunity to experience it with respect.
Everything else is a gift.
And that’s why, even today, every turtle, octopus or moray eel still feels as exciting as the first time.
Because the ocean doesn’t owe us an encounter.
But sometimes, it gives us one anyway.
