Close to the surface, it bobs along, nudging its head just out of the water before thrusting its neck down, its hefty body following behind.
Up close this wild manatee looks unthreatening and friendly, nearly smiling. Its grey coating appears to be rusting, peeling to reveal a golden crust.
Two small flippers remain by its sides as long white sparse hairs stand out across its body. Having decided there were too many people nearby, the manatee sinks like a torpedo with its chunky tail propelling it deeper.
I don’t feel concerned for a second swimming alongside this giant peaceful mammal, despite its impressive measurements of nearly four metres in length and a weight of almost 100 stone.
Manatees are often called sea cows because they are slow plant-eaters and tranquil – similar to cows on land. It is said that sailors used to mistake them for mermaids.
But in reality they are more closely related biologically to elephants and despite looking like cumbersome creatures they can swim gracefully and quickly.
Before I knew it this one was off, down into the deep water we humans can’t handle. One of a less than estimated 2,500 adult Antillean manatees thought to remain in the wild in the Caribbean Sea.
These poor heffers are seeing their numbers decline because of threats to their habit, getting entangled in fishing equipment, poaching and boat collisions.
Manatees often swim alone or in pairs and as they aren’t territorial, they have no need for a leader or followers. Ironic really that we were chasing them with GoPros in order to upload footage to Instagram.
Their mating methods are enough to make a feminist rage, with the female – called a cow – followed around by a dozen or more ‘bull’ males. The chase is competitive, with the winning male seizing the female and dragging her into deeper water to mate. But once the deed is done the male takes no part in the raising of the young. Totally scandalous!
Manatees are thought to have evolved from four-legged land mammals over 60 million years ago, with a hint to this provided by their vestigial toenails, a remnant of the claws they once had when they lived on land.
We met this manatee on a boat trip of the Belize Barrier Reef, setting off from the teeny island of Caye Caulker. Our next stop was Shark Ray Alley, where yep you guessed it we saw sharks.
But these little guys didn’t inspire fear, they were close to being cute. Unlike most other sharks, nurse sharks are smooth to touch and look a bit like teddy bear versions of the real deal.
Don’t be fooled though, they have strong jaws filled with thousands of tiny serrated teeth used to crush and eat shellfish, despite preferring fish, prawns and squid. Humans aren’t on their menu, but they will bite if they feel threatened.
Nurse sharks are an important species for shark research, as they are strong and physically comparable to other breeds of shark but are able to tolerate capture, handling and tagging well. Which probably explains why I felt able to get so close to them in these videos.
These sharks are mostly nocturnal, or perhaps were. A controversial byproduct of taking boat trips out to see them in Belize means the sharks know there will be food available to them around lunchtime.
Going eyeball-to-eyeball allows them to show off their icy stare. Not to be messed with.
Another underwater menace we came into contact with on the snorkelling tour was the green moray eel.
With its olive-green hue, piercing blue eyes and jaw filled with sharp teeth clamping open and shut as it slithers through the water, the eel looks like an enemy from Super Mario.
It certainly showed no fear in chasing me around the ocean floor. Perhaps that is because moray eels prefer a life of solitude, which extends to their abysmal parenting duties – young eels are left to fend for themselves right after birth.
Perhaps it was the rum punch on the boat that gave everyone the confidence to get up close and personal with a manatee, nurse sharks and green moray eels.
A huge concoction was brewed aboard in the morning, a huge bottle of rum glugging its way into an even bigger container of punch.
Music playing, the sun shining – we knew this was going to be a great day.
We booked through the Travellers Palm Backpacker Hostel in Caye Caulker, that my Swedish friend Erik and I had arrived at from Mexico the night before.
Immediately we felt the change. Suddenly everyone was speaking English, not Spanish. I started to feel at home when I realised Queen Elizabeth was pictured on all the banknotes.
A British colony since 1840, Belize only achieved independence from the UK in 1981.
The manta in Caye Caulker is ‘go slow’ but our first 24 hours felt like a rollercoaster. We pitched up after sunset, just in time for dinner and to book our place on the snorkel boat trip the next day.
Costing BZ$150 (US$75 / £57), I was hesitant to spend so much on a one-day activity, but it was completely worth it.
Hosted by the hostel owners Pops and Sophie, we had an action-packed day. After seeing manatees, nurse sharks, rays and eels and having lunch, it was time to catch some fish. Well, at least try.
After two Aussie girls Grace and Kat laid the groundwork, I was given the daunting task of trying to reel in a barracuda with everyone watching.
I took my sweet time, getting stuck at one point as well as being heckled by my fellow passengers, but my persistence eventually paid off.
Letting out groans of tiredness as my arms burned, I managed to secure dinner out of the water with the assistance of Pops.
And then I was handed a tool and urged to finish the poor thing off. After several attempts, the ugly part of fishing was handled and we could parade the catch of the day.
Amazingly, Pops then put our success into perspective by throwing on a snorkel, jumping overboard and catching lobster with a small spear. Tonight’s dinner was sorted.
We just about had time to catch the sun appearing to set into the sea before heading back to shore.
By the time we docked the sky had turned a navy blue fading to orange. One of the best days of my six months away, shared with a lovely crew.
