But floating above the darkness, I suddenly understood. Cat Islanders have got it right; there are things you don't fool with, powers bigger than tourism, or recreation, or paradise. God only knew what monsters swam in that hole. "Maybe live, surely die," one islander had shrugged brightly to me at a midnight wake for his brother, who'd sat down on his front porch and never stood back up. You got to enjoy the time you got, drink your bush medicine, take the bright gifts the ocean offers. But don't mess with the invisible. Ain't no way, I thought, as I hung above that black water—ain't no way I'm going in that hole.