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Day four in the Caymans. I’ve done some serious reconnaissance, and today is about serious water. These islands boast some of the whitest sand and bluest, warmest water I’ve ever experienced; while I maintain that one shouldn’t simply beach oneself, I also understand that it would be criminal to let that top-notch soaking opportunity go to waste. A relief to me, then — and typical of the Caymans — there’s more to this place than just simple beaches.

I’ll make two major stops today, the first being Stingray City. A shallow sandbar out in the middle of North Sound, this place welcomes boatloads (literally) of tourists all week, but is big enough that everyone gets a little piece of the ‘City’ to themselves. After riding out on a catamaran, I enter the water timidly — after all, the elegant gray creatures aren’t called stingrays for nothing.

Noticing my visible discomfort (and I’m not the only tourist suffering), our guide comes over to “walk me through it.” Samantha is a tanned, laid back bikini girl who has worked this sandbar for more than five years, and promises there’s nothing to fear. While, yes, Steve Irwin was in fact killed by a relative of these beasts, she tells me that the Caymanian rays are South Atlantic Rays, versus Irwin’s Bull Ray, and are harmless unless one steps directly on their blunt little stinger (and even then, you won’t die, although you also won’t want to walk on that foot for a little while).

It’s not just a show. The relaxed manner Samantha displays with the rays — holding them, pushing them away when they bother her — reassures me, and when she pulls out some fish to feed them, I push back the panic as they swarm all around us. Turns out, these guys are quite friendly, and by the end of our time there, I’ve petted rays and even crouched down to hold one in my arms for a photo op.

Next up is the USS Kittiwake, which I also reach via catamaran. The former US Navy rescue ship now rests 62 feet underwater and welcomes divers and snorkelers alike. Sunk just this year, the ship doesn’t yet host too much coral (or too many fish), but a four-foot barracuda has taken up residence. Just swimming and floating above and around the vessel is a cool experience — it makes one feel a bit ghostly. And it imbues the wreckage with same: As I swim, I can even hear it groan as it moves with the waves, and I gaze down on it, imagining its former glory, sailing the high seas.

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Image courtesy of George Chang.