1887
An Enchanted Cavern
Beauties of the Grotto of Capri — An American Bicyclist's Adventure
Tradition has it that this "Grotta Azzura" was known in the earliest Roman times and then lost again in the Middle Ages, although the knowledge of its existence was preserved at Capri, and that in the last century it was rediscovered through chance — a shipwrecked sailor was dashed through the narrow opening in the cliff; recovered consciousness to find himself in heaven, as he thought — in reality upon a little ledge in the grotto — and escaped by swimming.
Can I not enter swimming when it would be impossible for a boat? The guide says, "No," but will take me out there, and it is worth the attempt; so watch and valuables are left at the hotel and we are off. On the way we meet a party returning, and upon reaching to the cave we find that the entrance, about three feet high and four broad, is filled by every wave and the spray sent dashing up the rocky sea wall I must enter as the wave recedes.
Undressing and leaping into the sea, I was tossed about a little by the waves, my mouth filled with salt water and I almost decided to give it up; but, after holding to the boat for a few moments and hearing the guide expatiate upon the "Grotta Bellissima," decided that I could risk a bit of a knock for the purpose of seeing one of nature's most beautiful creations. The boat was pushed as near as was safe and I made a plunge for the entrance, but just a little too late; I saw that the coming wave would catch me, and fearing a blow on the head — where even the felt hat I wore for that contingency would not have saved me — I dived on the instant, and the wave, coming roaring in, pushed me by its weight into the depths, instead of against the rocks. I think I must have gone down fifteen feet and been under the surface nearly a minute, for I swallowed an immense quantity of the salty fluid before I came up dazed, after a hard struggle, to find myself in smooth water, surrounded by a wonderful, supernatural, blue light, with countless stars gleaming above me. The water is very clear and seems to be fathomless, while my limbs are bright, polished, sparkling silver. Ideas of distance are lost; I can see for miles in every direction, up and down as well, and it is a surprise to me when, after swimming for ten minutes, I find myself at the other end of the grotto.
There was no resting place except a crevice in the rock for the fingers of one hand, and I hung there swinging back and forth and feasting on this wonderful sight — a feast half mingled with - fear as to my safe exit. The entrance appeared hopelessly far away, entirely closed every few seconds by the inrushing water, and then, upon its recession, admitting a ray from the outside world. The impression and experience is, under such circumstances, altogether indescribable and unearthly. After perhaps fifteen minutes I launched out once more, and swam, in fear and trembling, for the entrance; before reaching it two or three big waves came rushing in, tossing the salt spray into my eyes, and accompanied by a cold wind. I approached as near the entrance as I could, waited until a great wave dashed itself with full force into my face, struck out quickly, and, behold, I came out without the slightest trouble and seized the boat before the next wave came! — George P. Fiske, M. D.. in Outing.
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