Pincher's Lagoon, known for its seahorses and a popular dive training spot
	Photo: Gunther Deichmann

	Windows on another world, tunnels lead off to other, smaller lagoons providing plenty of ideas for future trips.
	Photo: Gunther Deichmann

	A glassy calm renders a perfect reflection of a few of the Rock Islands.
	Photo: Gunther Deichmann

	The mangrove forest.
	Photo: Gunther Deichmann

	Lagoon views, above and below the water.
	Photo: Gunther Deichmann

	The once-common saltwater crocodile still lurks among the mangroves.
	Photo: Gunther Deichmann

	A small beach which was the base camp for our exploration of Einstein's Garden and the tunnels
	Photo: Gunther Deichmann

	Three Coconut Island, a popular stop with kayakers.
	Photo: Gunther Deichmann

	Sunset cruise.
	Photo: Gunther Deichmann

Leaning backwards in our kayak, I grasped the limestone ceiling of the tunnel just inches from my nose. A four-knot tidal current was pushing us forward, but forward was not the direction we wanted to go and I struggled to get enough purchase on the rock to pull us back.

I was teamed up with marine biologist and kayak tour operator Ron Leidich who had promised to show me a few of the secrets of Palau's Rock Islands. Access was a little tricky though - a question of delicate timing - and I had entrusted myself and thousands of dollars of camera equipment to my long-haired, bare-footed guide's every word. And now Ron was insisting that we turn back for the second time. We carefully felt our way backwards against the powerful current. When the tunnel finally widened, Ron manoeuvred our craft through 180û as we searched for daylight and fresh air.

Paddle paradise

The Rock Islands are Dali-esque slivers and spires of limestone liberally sprinkled across the ocean just south of Koror, the island capital of the island nation of Palau. While the country's stellar diving draws most visitor's attention, this island group is perfect kayaking territory. But don't let the postcard-worthy panoramas and arc of deep blue overhead lull you into thinking that all you need to do is paddle off into the sunset. To find the best of the area's sea caves, secluded coves, crescents of blindingly white sand and opalescent lagoons, it pays to hire a guide. Having done just that, I quickly realised the wisdom of the move.

Ron's first trick had been to guide us through a shallow neck of water leading from the ocean into a large lagoon. This had to be done at high tide as the channel becomes a beach at other times, stranding the unsuspecting on the other side. Once in the lagoon, Ron had another surprise in store - tunnels that connect this lagoon with Long Lake, another body of water with its own wonders. We had some time to kill first though as the passages needed to be traversed at the right time. Common sense suggests that the best time to brave the 80m-long tunnels would be at low tide, but Ron informed us that not just any low tide would do. In fact it was necessary to wait for the extreme low tides associated with the full moon to allow access. Even then, it was not the actual moment of lowest ebb that was exploited, but the later, brief, window of tidal equilibrium when all water movement stops. The 1.6km-long lake on the other side of the tunnels drains millions of gallons of water every day through this limestone maze and Ron stressed that timing was critical in getting through safely. This optimum time was more than an hour after low tide and so we had some time to explore.

It was then that I glanced over the side of the kayak into the clear waters of the lagoon, and I couldn't believe the colours I saw below. Enormous brain corals of green, red, blue, and yellow were packed tightly together along the sloping reef wall. I looked up at Ron. He smiled assuredly, knowing all along that his tour of the hidden highlights of the Rock Islands would not disappoint.

He has named this little oasis Einstein's Gardens due to the proliferation of giant Lobophyllia brain corals - a genus that is unusually sensitive to wave action and consequently is only found in more protected lagoon environments. This particular location is an especially smart choice. The limestone walls provide shelter from even the most severe storms, winds, and waves. In addition, the overhanging trees filter out most of the direct sun, favouring Lobophyllia, which typically gets only 20% of its nutrients from sunlight, over the more aggressive sun-loving species like Acropora. The remainder of the necessary nutrients are handily swept in with the water that flushes through to the lagoon at high tide.

Lobophyllia has also proved resistant to the bleaching episodes that have decimated so many other reefs worldwide as sea water temperatures rise, making this lagoon

habitat unique for the age and size of its heads of coral. Somehow, while other species bleached and ultimately died, these brain corals were able to cling on, later regaining the algae that give them their colour as the waters cooled.

With such old growth coral around, Ron was very protective of the site and insisted we leave our fins and tanks behind as we slid out of our kayaks with cameras in hand. A gourmet buffet could hardly have appeared more appetizing than the magnificence of the reef scene before me. The coral was so rich and abundant that I could only float for fear of damaging them. I was surprised by how tightly bunched up they were and indeed Ron explained that this is another feature of Lobophyllia - its ability to co-exist with other heads of the same species, unlike most other corals which compete for elbow room with all their neighbours.

Many of the corals reflected iridescent hues of neon green and blue. Ron claims that these pigments are actually designed to shield the corals from damaging sunlight, in the same way that our own sunscreen works. Baby fishes stared up at us between the delicate corals and seemed to be unperturbed by our unusual presence. Had they ever gazed upon human visitors before?

While we ogled the corals, Ron was intently studying the currents. Finally satisfied, he signalled that it was time to go. Saying merely, "Lean back, hold onto your dive light and trust me", he pushed off. Did we have an alternative?

For the third time we entered the tunnels, and this time the water was calm. Five minutes later, we were in pitch darkness with only our dive lights for orientation. Our two guests, Thomas and Natalia, had joined us somewhat reluctantly. No one was saying it, but our common concern was whether our guide really knew which passage led out of the maze. The hydroids and sponges on the ceiling and stingrays drifting below did their best to take our minds off it, making the tunnels themselves almost feel alive and causing me to wonder if anyone had ever catalogued all of the multicolour species growing around us. Then, after a few moments anxiety, light! Our fears were instantly banished with the flare from the tunnel mouth ahead. We'd made it.

After the oppressive darkness and suffocating warmth of the tunnels, the air and sun were blessed relief. We all literally breathed a little easier, scrunching up our eyes while we took in our surroundings. Before my senses could calm to the serenity of the enclosed salt-water lake though, Ron reminded us that we were on borrowed time - less than ten minutes of it - so I needed to get busy with the camera. I began scanning the high limestone walls and lush vegetation for likely subjects.

All too quickly, a tap on my shoulder signalled that it was time to go - the tide waits for no man as they say. We slipped back into the embrace of the limestone and I immediately noticed that our return journey seemed somewhat unfamiliar. I asked if we were exiting using the same route. Ron assured me that the tunnel was the same but that the tides had changed. We were now perilously close to the ceiling, leaning further and further back on our kayaks, with little room between ourselves and an uncomfortable face-to-face meeting with the rock. Tensions rose with the tide as the water was now spilling back into the lake. In a few more minutes, a river of water would be rushing through the tunnel. I nervously asked Ron if he'd ever got stuck inside this labyrinth. Laughter and the flippant comment that he'd had a few close calls, did nothing to calm my nerves.

I did my best to take a few more photos during the passage out, hoping that this would distract me. Looking into the water I saw mysterious flashes of light that must be some sort of phosphorescence and the clicking sounds of hidden shrimp made the atmosphere still more eerie. I watched crabs scurrying along the ceiling and wondered if they too were looking for the way out.

Finally, I saw daylight. I glanced back to see that even Ron looked relieved to be free again. The warm Micronesian sun relaxed our mood and we all enjoyed a laugh with the danger behind us.

The return

The next few days were filled with the grandeur of the outer reef as I dived in the mega-abundance of Blue Corner, German Channel, and Big Drop Off. These classic sites didn't disappoint, with a profusion of fish and soft corals ensuring that this photographer's dreams were fulfilled on every dive. Still, my thoughts kept drifting back to Einstein's Gardens and the beauty of the lake.

One day I found Ron returning to Koror from an afternoon paddle and asked if there was any way we could all return to the lake for another photo opportunity. To my surprise he replied that we could go the very next morning. Remembering what he had said about the phase of the moon being important, I wondered how he planned to get us there this time and when morning came I half expected to see climbing ropes packed in our kayaks to get us over the vertical rock wall. In fact there were no such aids - clearly Ron had yet another surprise up his sleeve.

Thomas and Natalia had joined us again, together with assistant guide Jake. Thirty minutes in the speedboat later we pulled up to a quiet beach and unloaded the kayaks and gear. My hands tied up in photo and video gear, I left the paddling to Ron who headed straight for a stand of mangrove forest. I asked Ron if anyone ever came here and he just smiled knowingly and said, "The diver's race to Blue Corner every day never knowing about the magic that they're missing in these islands."

Together we slipped into a small channel in the thick mangroves which seemingly appeared from nowhere. The channel widened and we rode the tidal current in deeper, Ron's lunar predictions coming good again. Now we were in the shade of a mangrove canopy draped with hanging orchids and epiphytic ferns. Colourful birds danced from branch to branch and then Ron spotted an archerfish taking careful aim at an insect in the foliage. We all yelled as a stunningly accurate 2m jet of water knocked the hapless prey into the water.

As the vegetation receded and we entered clearer water, Ron explained that we'd come to a special nursery. Standing up in the kayak to peer into the water, he quickly found what he was looking for: "There's my pretty little girl", he murmured. Only inches from us was a baby spotted eagle ray small enough to fit into the palm of your hand. Every year rays enter the lake to give birth in this predator-free environment. Only the baby's graceful tail alluded to the fact that it would someday grow up and move to the outer reef as a 2m-wide adult.

We pressed on under skies full of soaring White-tailed Tropicbirds in search of their morning meal. Courting pairs of terns were dancing perfect aerial duets and White-breasted Wood Swallows swooped down on unsuspecting prey. I lost track of time but it must have been about half an hour later when I start to get a vague feeling of d?j? vu. I was proved right as Ron eased the kayak under the shade of an overhanging branch and said, "Welcome back". He directed my attention into the water in front of the kayak and I saw a large cavern entrance well below the surface. We'd returned to the tunnels but this time at high tide.

Just thirty minutes from Koror, yet unknown even to most residents of Palau and safely out of the reach of speedboats, these special places are still unsullied by man or his influence. We owe it to ourselves, our planet and our sense of wonder to ensure that they remain so. ÆÆ

The hows and wheres

Basics: The US$ is the official currency, and English and Palauan are the official languages. Visas are not required, however all visitors must have return travel arrangements or approval from the Chief of Immigration for stays beyond 30 days. Electricity supply is at 110V, using standard U.S. plugs. Note that mobile phone coverage does not support overseas calls or texting. Internet cafes are numerous.

Climate: Palau enjoys warm weather all year round with an annual mean of 27¡C (82ûF). Rainfall occurs throughout the year, but is more frequent between July and October. Palau is considered to be outside the typhoon zone.

Getting there: Koror's airport code is ROR. The usual access from Asia is from Guam or Manila with Palau Micronesia Air or Continental. Both airlines also connect Palau with other Micronesian destinations such as Chuuk and Yap. Palau Micronesia also have a direct service from Darwin. Korea. Airlines and Asiana fly direct from Seoul, while JAL and Far Eastern Air offer charter flights from Tokyo (and other Japanese cities at times) and Taipei respectively.

Kayaking operators

Planet Blue Sea Kayak Tours, samstours@palaunet.com,  www.samstours.com  

Fish n' Fins, fishnfin@palaunet.com  

Neco Marine, necomarine@palaunet.com,  www.seapalau.com

Rock Island Tour Company, palauritc@palaunet.com

Splash, splash@palaunet.com,  www.splash-palau.com

Other activities

Sam's Tours, samstours@palaunet.com , www.samstours.com  

Fish n' Fins, fishnfin@palaunet.com,  www.fishnfins.com

Dive Palau, keith@palaunet.com

Imperial Palau, impac@palaunet.com  

Neco Marine, necomarine@palaunet.com, www.seapalau.com

Palau Diving Centre, carp@palaunet.com, www.carpisland.com

Palau Technical Divers, trimix@palaunet.com, www.palautechnical.com

Splash, splash@palaunet.com, www.splash-palau.com

For more general information, visit: www.palaunet.com