Hundreds of feet beneath the Caribbean’s aquamarine surface, self-appointed submarine captain Karl Stanley counts the particles in a beam of light.
If he looks up, he’ll see the dark silhouettes of hammerheads circling. If he follows the spotlight to its end, he’ll see psychedelic tube sponges gripping the sea wall. Instead, the 29-year-old focuses on particles because they help quantify the lifelong fascination with submarines that landed him on this island off the coast of Honduras.
Down there, the water is so clear that his particle count is close to zero. Down there, a man in a submarine feels as if he can see forever.
Not that many are willing to risk the view. This planet’s 330 million cubic miles of water remain almost entirely unexplored. And that drives people like Stanley batty — some so batty that they go into the garage, pull out the wrenches and hacksaws and take matters into their own hands.