JELLYFISH LAKE, MY POINT OF ORIGIN

Palau is an independent country, made up of about 250 islands, located in the western chain of the Caroline Islands.  It is one of the top dive destinations in the world and is extraordinarily beautiful both above and below water.  I’ve been there twice and if I’m lucky I will go again.  Diving in Palau is one of the few places in the world where you can forget, for a little while, that our oceans are in trouble, that entire species are being fished to extinction.  Every dive is beautiful and thrilling and the boat ride out to the dive sites, slaloming through the rock islands, is absolutely spectacular.

Palau

But when I think about Palau, the first thing that pops up, on my admittedly slow mental operating system, is Jellyfish Lake.  Jellyfish Lake is one of the weirdest fricking places I’ve ever been.  Located in the center of Eli Malk, an uninhabited rock island, it is a marine lake formed approximately 12,000 years ago by a glacial episode that triggered rising ocean levels.   At one point the small rock island was completely underwater but then ocean levels receded and Jellyfish Lake was born.  At least that’s how it was explained to me.  The lake is connected to the ocean through several channels cut deep into the limestone and has changing tidal levels even though it sits high up in the middle of a dense jungle island.

Jellyfish Lake

To reach the lake, you hike up a steep muddy trail for about ¼ of a mile to the top of a ridge-line then descend into the lake basin.  There is a tiny wooden dock where you leave your flip-flops, t-shirts, etc.  It’s a popular place and chances are you’re going to run into boatloads of tourists.  What you hope is that you don’t actually run into them on the narrow, slippery trail because many of these non-divers cannot actually swim and so they tend to carry with them all sorts of flotation devices such as bogey boards, life jackets, inflatable air mattresses, adult water-wings, all of which can make for slow and awkward hiking.

Once you arrive,  jump in the water wearing a mask and snorkel.  Fins are optional.  The water is very warm but not particularly clear.  At first maybe you’ll see one or two jellies but there’s not much action over by the dock or the sides of the lake because that’s where the anemones live and the anemones are the only predators in Jellyfish Lake.  Keep swimming.

As you swim to the middle of the sunny lake you will start to see more and more jellyfish.

The millions—some say over five million—golden jellyfish migrate across the lake everyday following the sun’s arc across the sky.  They propel themselves by pumping water through their bells and are in constant motion.

The sunlight nourishes the zooxanthellae, an algae-like substance, which lives symbiotically in the jellyfish tissue and supplies an energy source as a by-product of their photosynthesis.  Keep swimming; there’s more.

By the time you reach the center of the lake and your body will be completely surrounded by this firm and slippery creatures.   It’s hard to reconcile the fact that these weird and beautiful animals are not going to hurt you but their sting is painless.  Occasionally, if one brushes across your lips, you might feel a slight tingle but there the sensation goes away in seconds.

You float in the warm salt water, weightless, the only sound is your breath timed perfectly to the pulsing movement of the jellies.  This most basic form of life surrounds you, expanding, contracting, swimming, existing.  Lose yourself.  Tape into the source.  This is where it all began; you can feel it.  You mind drifts, ice caps melt, tectonic shifts occur, volcanoes erupt, and you’re just about to recognize that one truth which will unlock all of your doors.  You can feel it.

Katie Arnoldi Jellyfish Lake

But then suddenly a drill-sergeant’s whistle rips through your consciousness.  You hear shrieks and laughter,  the kicking and splashing of another boatload of visitors jumping in the water.  You look up and see a floating army thrashing out towards the sunny epicenter of the lake.  Perhaps they’re all wearing matching hats with the tour company logo.  They are headed your way, loyally following their guide.  They want to join you in the primordial soup, be a part of the experience.   This is the time for you to swim back to the dock and make the quick transition from water to land.  Get back up on those two legs people and hurry down the hill before another boat arrives.  Jellyfish Lake is unlike any place on earth but timing is everything.  You gotta know when to get in and when to get out.  But go there.  I’m telling you.  It’s worth it.

Busy Dock Jellyfish Lake