To be completely honest, I don’t even remember the context or whereabouts of the conversation. All I remember was hearing the words, “seahorse pond,” and zeroing in on that conversation with all my attention ready to pounce.
I started asking questions with wide eyes.
Did you say, “seahorse pond?” Where? How?
And most important: How many seahorses did you say?
More than anywhere else on earth.
Up until now, I figured I had about as much chance of seeing a unicorn as spotting a seahorse. But here I was, face to face with an opportunity to make my wildest fantasies come true. And it was only a few nautical miles away by sailing vessel.
In the Exumas, the wildlife in the aquatic landscape is second to none.
I have seen more sharks than I can count, Lemon, Nurse, Bull and Tiger. I have soared with a fever of Eagle Rays, swam with sea turtles, giant sting rays, Moree Eels and more. It’s like an aquarium of ocean life, without the glass enclosure.
But never have I ever seen a seahorse.
While I was getting my dive certification in Bocas del Toro, I thought for sure I would see the resident sea horse at the ferry wreck on my second dive. But she didn’t show herself to me.
I’ve been somewhat obsessed ever since.
And then I heard a friend utter the words, “seahorse pond,” in Eluthera.
I wasn’t about to miss that ride.
The sailing guide to the Bahamas didn’t breath a word about seahorses or seahorse ponds. I knew then that it was special.
We sailed all night from Marsh Harbour in the Ábacos, catching the tail end of a weather window that had multiple fronts lined up behind it. It was a now or never moment.
After sailing past Spanish Wells and through Current Cut, we set our course towards Hatchet Bay in Eluthera.
It was over 100 miles of sleepless sailing. And there’s nothing quite like the entrance at Hatchet Bay to give you a shot of adrenaline and wake your groggy ass up. The entrance is 90 feet wide, but it looks like its about 30 feet. The bay is named for its hatchet shape, with the handle being cut out by the sea. It was a landlocked feature until the 1940’s when a channel was cut to facilitate boat traffic. And by ‘facilitate’ they mean, just barely squeeze through. If the seas are rough and the wind and tide are opposing, it might be worth waiting if you don’t think your vessel can overpower unfavorable current. There’s no room for error in this narrow entrance.
After we got the blood pumping and made our way through the cut, we dropped the hook. Neither Adam or I had slept in over 24 hours, but we wasted no time loading up the kids, the bike, the snacks, water, and the bike trailer to make the two mile trek to the pond.
We loaded the folding bike, bike trailer, snorkel gear, our kids, and we dinghied to shore and got everything ready for a 2 mile journey.
We were on a seahorse quest! As tired as we were, I was determined not to lose steam. I kept us all moving at a quick pace, for fear that one of us might realize how ridiculous this was since we obviously should have been taking a nap. My husband was deliriously tired and so was I. But, when you have two kids under 6, grown up naps aren’t a realistic possibility. So we may as well trudge on and try to see something cool.
With only one bike, that meant one of us had to run alongside. I volunteered myself for the task.
It was the middle of the afternoon, and the sun was baking down on the asphalt radiating misery from below. Once we made it to Queen’s Highway, it got real. Adam biked along nervously with the kids in the bike trailer, and I ran alongside, determination and visions of seahorses propelling me forward. The cars were going over 40 on a narrow two lane highway. We still had a mile and a half to go… It didn’t take us long to see the folly in it all. The cars were relentless.
So we turned around and headed towards the boat in defeat.
On our way back we stopped a local and asked if there were any taxi cabs in the area. She volunteered herself and we happily obliged.
We loaded into her tiny two door sedan and she took us the rest of the way to Sweetings Pond.
About 2 1/2 miles from the dinghy dock in Hatchet bay, on Queens highway there is a clearing on the right, and directly across from that on the left is a trail that will lead you to the pond.
From the trail off the road it was about a 1/3 of a mile hike to the pond. The body of water was massive for a ‘pond,’ it looked more like a lake to me. At the entrance was a sign with do’s and don’ts, as well as the pond’s proposed status as a national park. It will be appropriately called, “Sea Horse National Park.” In addition, the Bahamas National Trust is confident they can turn it into a UNESCO World Heritage Sight. Just last year, the pond was closed to fisherman who frequented these waters for crabs and fish.
In the past, the place was kept somewhat secret, in an effort to protect the seahorses’ habitat. Unfortunately, the aquarium industry takes a toll on rare fish everywhere, and this place is no different. The species of seahorse found here hippocampus erectus are worth a lot, and people are harvesting them for aquariums. Now the idea is to take this place out of the shadows and put it in the spotlight. By raising awareness about Sweetings Pond, the hope is that the animals will be better protected.
Not only will you find more seahorses here than anywhere, but you will also see giant grabs, octopuses, nudibranches, strange looking clams and more. Of the many seahorses present in the pond, the threatened Lined Seahorse, Hippocampus Erectus, is found here in numbers not seen elsewhere.
What makes this place so special? Sweetings Pond is a landlocked lagoon. But it is connected to the ocean invisibly through the porous limestone rock. The tide rises and falls, and the water is salty. It is known as an ‘anchialine pool.’ How the seahorses made their way into this landlocked lake is however, a mystery.
But we do know that Sweetings Pond has the most densely populated seahorse community than anywhere on Earth.
I have been pretty lucky in life, but I think stumbling on this unique place might be my luckiest moment.
Before coming here, I was told that there is no guarentee you will actually see one of the elusive seahorses.
It wasn’t terribly easy getting to Sweetings Pond, and I was taking a big gamble in the short amount of time we had that we would be lucky enough to to spot one. I’ve heard of others going repeatedly with no sightings. But, being an amateur birder and wildlife watcher, I know that spotting animals takes a lot of patience and attention to detail. I was willing to play my hand at this.
I put my snorkel mask on with no fins, and got in the water. It states clearly on the sign by the pond not to wear any fins. The seahorses and other strange creatures in this water live in a sensitive eco system. It doesn’t take much to kick up the sand and sediment at the bottom and disturb things.
The water was murky, green and alive with prolific vegetation. Sea stars were slinking along the bottom like characters in a Miyazaki film. The details were endless. Everything was tiny, and if I looked closer, I could see more creatures, even tinier than the last. The Green Feather Algae, Anemones, Rough File Clams, Brittle Sea Stars, Nudibranches, and Fringe Back Dondices all make for an underwater world that will etch itself into your memory forever.
After about 30 minutes I was beginning to wonder if I would spot a seahorse. I assumed they would be camoflauged, but I didn’t realize that they would be virtually invisible.
I resigned myself and started swimming back towards my exit, and of course, there it was, just chillin’ next to some purple plants, its tail wrapped around a thin branch. So tiny, and so incredibly camouflaged.
Basically invisible, the seahorses blend into the floor of the pond looking exactly like a striped clam shell.
I remember another sailor telling me that he came to the pond 6 days in a row, and the horses just wouldn’t come out for him. I know now that they were definitely there, he just couldn’t see them through their little invisibility cloaks.
Once I spotted the first, it took no time finding the second, third and fourth. They were everywhere.
I watched as the strange creature swam in all directions, upside down, sideways, and right side up, just doing its little seahorse thing without a care in the world. All while this weird googley eyed giant was intently watching.
They don’t really swim, they ‘hover’ as their little back fin undulates allowing them to glide seamlessly in all directions. It was like watching an alien float through space.
I had my camera out and ready, but getting a video of these little guys was near impossible.
I waited for the sun to come out from behind the clouds. Then I dove down to the level of tiny seahorses. The hard part was trying to stabilize myself for a decent shot without kicking up the sediment with my hands or feet. The only thing I could do was kick one leg up and behind my head out of the water to hold myself still for a few seconds while taking a video without touching or even putting my hands near the bottom.
All it took was one small sweep of my hand near the bottom as I was trying to still myself, and the sediment wiped out any visibility for the next 3 minutes.
After some underwater acrobatics and many many minutes of filming, I came away with what I deemed to be an acceptable video.
Was it worth it? All that effort to catch a glimpse of a tiny creature less than two inches long…?
I think we all know the answer to that question.
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