The petrified monsters of Hienghene

The swell bends the polyps on toadstool coral like wheat in a summer breeze. Their movement and colours are hypnotic, but we swim on towards the dark crack that rips through this enchanted garden. Two red sea fans cover the entrance to the cavern.

The dark swallows us up. We dive into the bowels of the reef. There are no more colours, no more dancing fish. Obscurity and silence envelope us interrupted only by the sound of our breathing and our torches.
The air bubbles from our scuba equipment rise to the uneven rock ceiling. They roll like mercury in an upside-down world. They can’t escape – in a few days they will be absorbed through the chalky surface.

We slide between rough ridges that stand atop the partitions of this narrow corridor. At the end of the tunnel, the darkness seems less dense. Light filters down through inaccessible openings in the ceiling. And, suddenly, when the sun reaches its zenith, the light pours down to the very bottom of the cavern.

Like projector beams, the rays pick out the overhangs on the walls and turn them into petrified monsters. We see a gigantic skull with prominent eyebrows; we see another skull whose eyes seem to stare into eternity and above, a head whose gaping, grimacing mouth seems to scream.

Suspended in the crypt at mid-height, we swim towards the threatening face of a dragon. The monster seems to use the bright sunlight to extract itself from its stony matrix. Slowly, the rays highlighting its nostrils flicker. Above us, the sun continues its path and abandons the cavern. The light falters and then fails altogether. The darkness imprisons the stone demons once again.

François Sarano

Slide show images : Pascal Kobeh/Galateefilms "Océans" Jacques Perrin