“We’re jumping into the deep?” I ask my sister somewhat nervously—and rhetorically, since we’re already rushing to pull snorkels on our heads and jam fins on our feet.
The catamaran rolls in the swells while her husband Rob keeps the 40-foot boat a steady distance from where the waves break against the cliffs of the little island. The plan is for Rob to cut the engines long enough for us to slip into the water, where we’ll swim a loop around the rocks that plunge into the depths, before he comes back to cut the engines again for the instant it takes to pick us up.
Bri flashes a grin at me through her mask. “This is my kind of adventure. Think of it like jumping off a cornice,” she says, and then she drops into the ocean.