The Truth About Snorkeling in Bermuda’s Whalebone Bay (Or: Why I’m Eternally Terrified of Octopuses)

Editor’s note: Let the record reflect that Whalebone Bay is an interesting snorkeling spot if you’re staying on St. George’s Island in Bermuda, and I highly encourage everyone to go. I’m just a complete scaredy-cat when it comes to slippery aquatic creatures of the night. Also, watch this awesome video that explains the correct plural form(s) of the word ‘octopus.’

I slowly shied away from the tank, my eyes darting back and forth.

“What’s wrong, huh?” my brother teased, though he already knew. The little rascal—well, big rascal, as he was younger but taller than me—had nonchalantly remarked that an octopus can climb from one tank to another, a fact I wished I could unlearn as quickly as I heard it.

I squirmed, imagining its slimy tentacles reaching over the edge of one tank and steadying itself to latch on to the tank of its neighbor. I shouldn’t have been so surprised at its capabilities, though; Paul the Octopus had recently been the rage, accurately predicting the winners of many of the 2010 World Cup matches. (But really, that sounds absurd. I’d just as soon ask an all-knowing parrot to tell me if Germany was going to beat Ghana.)

I was in the same room as this nefarious creature as part of a tour of BIOS (the Bermuda Institute of Ocean Sciences), the place where my brother, Nick, was studying abroad for 13 weeks in late 2011.

Our family never truly needed an excuse to travel anywhere together—we had been going on annual family vacations for as long as I could remember—but we certainly couldn’t pass up an opportunity to see a new place where we’d have an “expert” local tour guide. So off we went to explore this British Overseas Territory, leaving it to Nick to provide daily activity recommendations.

On this particular overcast October morning, my brother had decided it would be a great idea for us to tour the facilities where he had been living in Bermuda. However, he had neglected to mention that we’d be up close and personal with the aquatic residents of the station.

Nick had a sixth sense for picking up on even the slightest discomfort I felt, milking his mischievous remark for all it was worth. “Don’t worry, Julianne. You’re safe—for now!” he taunted me. I shuddered.

I quickly scurried into the next room as the tour guide impatiently began his next speech. Even if it’s in a tank right now, I thought, I’m not taking any chances.

***

I am perennially straddling the zone between adventure-loving thrill seeker and lazy homebody who would rather stay safe and warm inside my apartment. This can make my travels unpredictable, as I never know when this adventurous persona will emerge. Whereas I had to be goaded into trying sushi for the first time in college in 2007, I willingly devoured a seahorse of my own volition in Beijing in 2010.

I probably wouldn’t make seahorse a regular dish, but you can see that my tastes have evolved oh so slightly.

Toward the end of our time in Bermuda, Nick suggested that we embark on a midnight snorkel. My dad immediately agreed to join him, and my mom just as quickly politely refused to go. Not wanting to be left behind, I found Intrepid Julianne winning out, and I agreed to join their aquatic nighttime expedition.

With our fins, snorkels, and waterproof flashlights in tow, we set out in the darkness on a paved road leading out of the facility. Once we turned onto the main highway, a bright orange light exploded into view, displaying several large beige buildings surrounded by a chain-link fence. I silently followed my brother as he led us onto a rocky, narrow path off the other side of the road.

Not until after we had returned from our snorkeling adventure did my brother reveal that we had just walked by a prison.

After what seemed like an eternity—but in reality was probably thirty minutes—a secluded bay came into view under the pale moonlight. The water, which was blacker than the sky, appeared still and placid. It was the perfect setting for a nighttime snorkel in “Whalebone Bay,” as my brother called it; the mere mention of the place’s name summoned visions of majestic whale skeletons hanging in natural history museums.

My brother was somehow was already ten feet out in Whalebone Bay by the time I had my fins on. He beckoned for my dad and me to join him.

In a matter of minutes, we had swum to the edge of the cove. I peered through my mask at the marine life below and exhaled slowly. Ah, it’s just some simple, small fish, I smiled to myself. The thing is, I like being in the water, but I don’t always like what lies beneath.

My relief was short-lived, however. Nick tapped me on the shoulder and pointed to a dark blob over to my left.

I yanked my head back up and took my mask off. “Nick, it’s a freakin’ octopus!” I yelled angrily. He chuckled and dove down to get a closer look at my nemesis.

As I hovered in the water watching the octopus from a distance, I became more uncomfortable with each passing second. I was utterly convinced that the creature was going to chase or attack me. I didn’t care how ridiculous it sounded; that thing was definitely out to get me. (Because, you know, octopi have nothing better to do that to terrorize young women swimming at night in Bermuda.)

As Nick surfaced, I told him that I’d had enough and was swimming back to shore. “Come on, Julie Julie,” he said, teasing me with the nickname he knows I profess to hate but am secretly amused by. “That octopus is ten feet below the surface! He can’t hurt you.”

“No, no, I’m just going to go back and hang out over there until you guys are ready to go back,” I said in a huff, and started swimming toward the shore.

My arms started to ache after a while, and I stopped to see how close I was getting to the beach. It was too dark to see—I had stupidly left my flashlight with my dad—but I was pretty sure that this was the right direction. Then I paused.

Wait, what is this? A tidepool? I don’t remember that—

BAM! I knocked my mask against something squishy, yet firm, with long arms. Huh, that’s strange, there’s a set of white, circular sucker-like things on this blob, and—wait. Wait, wait, wait.

Oh God.

I had collided with my mortal enemy.

At this point in the tale, a listener will usually ask me, “Did it squirt out ink at you? What did it look like? Are you sure it was an octopus?” The truth is, I only saw it for two seconds, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to wait around to find out.

With a superhuman adrenaline that’s usually reserved for lifting automobiles off of trapped children, I bolted out up of the water so fast that I don’t even remember how I got to the beach. I just know that I was in a state of shock from coming face to face with what I believe was a bonafide eight-armed creature of the night.

My brother and dad arrived soon after, asking what had happened. I tried my best to explain in between sharp inhales of air, but the words came out sounding like a dying seal. My archnemesis, meanwhile, had escaped without notice, slowly sinking back into the depths of the sea.

Listen: all I know for sure is, if you want to scare the living daylights out of me, dress up as an octopus for Halloween. I can guarantee you I’ll be screaming all the way to the Bermuda Triangle.

Photo credits: Sir Campsalot and Arielle Anderson. Permission was obtained from the photographers before posting.

Essential Info for Bermuda Trip Planning:
Where should you stay in Bermuda? Check out options here.
Where did I personally stay in Bermuda? While we stayed at the BIOS station in 2011, we’ve since returned and stayed at the Fairmont Southampton in 2014, which was excellent.
Want a guidebook for Bermuda? I use Fodor’s and Moon.
What else have I written about Bermuda? Find out here.

Did you like this post? Pin it! ↓↓