Of Pelicans and Boat Propellors

My heart pounds in time with the waves that lap against my thighs as I eye the gap between water and rock. Swimming through the narrow, low-ceilinged tunnel is the only way to reach the small beach tucked away at the very heart of the island.
Calling this rock an island is in itself questionable. Home only to a flock of pelicans, it hardly seems big enough to qualify.
Taking a deep breath -as much in an effort to calm my nerves as to prepare for submersion- I push off from the low deck of the fishing boat into the warm pacific water.
Quickly, I set off. The walls of the tunnel grow closer together, the roof lower, the further I swim.
Fear, and the strange kind of elation that comes with it, fill me. I was raised around the ocean, and as a result am perfectly aware that a large swell could acquaint my head a little too intimately with the solid rock above me. Thankfully the tug and release of the waves remains at a manageable level and, after several minutes of eerie half-darkness, I emerge from the stone corridor into warm Mexican sunlight. Grateful to be free of the confines of the rocky passage, I take a deep breath through my nose and immediately regret it. Pelicans are not the most aromatic of animals, especially en masse.
Despite their less than pleasant odor, I still find the birds mesmerizing. As I wade through the shallows I watch the pelicans swooping overhead. They are not at all bothered by my presence so close to their nests; the beach is surrounded by cliffs on all sides and I have neither the motivation nor the skill to climb them. Instead I lie down on the wet sand, just close enough that the waves can tug gently at my heels.
I will have to head back to the boat soon. The tide is coming in slowly but surely, and the sun is beginning to set, a beautiful sight in Mexico. The sun hangs low in the sky, a blazing orb setting the surrounding clouds ablaze. Reluctantly, I rise, and I splash back out into the water.
Swimming back is, if anything, more terrifying than the initial journey through the passage. Dimming light and a rising tide do not help my nerves. Eventually I make it back to the boat. I am greeted by my uncle, who grins as he pulls me aboard. The guide who brought us here gestures for me to sit as he starts the engine. The boat bounces across the waves, taking us back to the mainland.
Catching sight of a pelican skimming across the water, I smile.