Snorkeling off Cemetery Beach on Grand Cayman Island

Almost no one visits the Cayman Islands without seeing Seven Mile Beach. Crescent-shaped and renowned for its bright coral-sand and clear, calm water, it extends along most of the west coast of Grand Cayman Island, where I was visiting. Cruise ship passengers like myself are especially lucky because their tender port is at George Town, lying close to the southern end of the beach. However on my short stay, I headed almost to Seven Mile's very northern end, Cemetery Beach, where I snorkeled to an off-shore reef.

George Town is the capital and largest city in the Cayman Islands. It's also an easy place to find a taxi van or a public bus traveling to anywhere on Grand Cayman Island. I quickly learned that both services operated identical-looking vans that each held around a dozen passengers. The taxi offered a specific ride to your location at a fixed price with the possibility of several different itineraries sharing your van. Meanwhile the bus ran a regular route with frequent stops to pick up and drop off passengers. I took a taxi van to the beach for $7 and a public bus back for $2. The longer, less-direct ride back didn't bother me; it gave me a chance to see some more of the island like the airport and to also mingle with a few locals.

There was a clearly marked transit stop for buses and taxis on both sides of the road at Cemetery Beach. There was even a bench, a parking lot, and a bathroom on the far side. And to no surprise, a large cemetery lay between the road and the seashore with a well-maintained and marked pathway leading to the sand. Tall trees lining the beach offered lots of shade on the sunny afternoon I arrived.

Straight ahead in the sea, around fifty yards away, lay a white buoy. Several snorkelers in its vicinity along with dark regions in the surrounding turquoise water indicating reefs convinced me to make my way toward the marker. The sea was as calm and warm as bath water, making the long swim quite pleasant.

Shortly before I reached the buoy, several coral outcrops came into view. I noticed lots of marine life including a tight school of snappers sheltering close to the sea bottom fifteen feet below. Fan corals - some uniquely yellow-colored others a more common violet - swayed in the gentle currents. Coral formations like elkhorn came close to the surface of the water.

While there didn't appear to be one extended reef within sight, there were several coral groupings separated by short stretches of a sandy floor. I enjoyed circling around and through these habitats, snapping photos of various reef denizens like princess parrotfish, smooth trunkfish, and banded butterflyfish.

Jacks, chubs, and sergeant majors gathered around me, clearly accustomed to snorkelers visiting the area. I followed a school of fish myself for five minutes when I became obsessed with a large group of Atlantic blue tangs swimming in tight formation.

I spotted a red buoy to the north equally distant from the shore as I was. Maybe it marked another expanse of reefs, I thought. The swim there was over shallower water with a sandy seascape that was flat and grassy. I hoped I might find some sea turtles or stingrays in that different environment. Unfortunately there were none, and just more of the same lonely expanse when I finally reached the buoy.

Further out at sea were clustered three dive boats over the decommissioned USS Kittiwake that was sunk to form an artificial reef more than ten years ago. In my research for that day's outing I had harbored a thought to snorkel over that sight. But even from my location dozens of yards off the beach, the swim to the wreck was too far. Instead, I kicked my fins and headed back toward the white buoy for more exploring.

I encountered that school of Atlantic blue tangs again; this time the fish didn't meander through the seascape but concentrated on grazing on a patch of coral. I circled the group, and then revisited other clusters of coral, watching the smaller fishes that resided close to the bony structures. In one of my photos, a yellowtail damselfish seemed to pose proudly in front of its home.

Checking my watch, I realized I had been in the water for well over an hour, normally my limit. The warm Caribbean Sea had prevented me from chilling like I usually do. Still, I decided to return to shore because I was mostly alone, not a good habit when snorkeling. Close to the beach, I spotted a barracuda a dozen feet to my right. It left me alone, like the species normally does with humans, but lurked close enough to unnerve me.

Minutes later, sitting on my towel, I watched a boat loaded with snorkelers anchor near the white buoy. I wondered if it was part of a cruise ship excursion offering the quintessential Grand Cayman reef encounter. Cemetery Beach indeed offered access to some excellent reef life only a short swim from shore. But I suspected there were many more tour boats sailing to much more vibrant reefs elsewhere on the island.