Carrie Albin's Profile

Any initial claustrophobia quickly dissolves as we move deeper into one of the blue caves of Milos, so named because of the uncanny, luminous, almost neon blue light that permeates its otherwise inky interior. Even our gently rocking boats and slow-motion paddles seem to glow in the phosphorescent light. The effect is supernatural, almost mystical, and once we’re all inside, no one speaks. As we paddle out, I can’t help thinking, it’s only our first hour on the water. What could top this?
Well, how about a sea cave so extravagant that in all my worldwide paddles, from the Arctic to Antarctica, I’ve never seen anything like it. A behemoth chamber 200 feet deep by 50 feet high is big enough that it could easily hold 100 kayaks and still seem spacious. Feeling puny, we bounce around in the darkness and gawk, mesmerized by the reflections of sea light on its Jackson Pollock ceiling: gorgeous mineralized splatters of deep purple, seaweed green, and sulfur yellow streaking down the rough-textured walls. Just as hypnotic is the eerie music of the active ocean—a low groaning, sucking sound—swishing in and out of the archlike portal.