This is the plot for a 1975 Movie of the Week called Satan’s Triangle, and it scared the bejesus out of me as a kid. The film opens with a narrator announcing: “Just off the east coast of the United States, more than a thousand men, women and children have vanished from the face of the Earth. No one knows how. Or why. This is one explanation.” 

As a young boy watching a bad horror movie on TV when he really should have been reading Babar the Elephant, I took it as the only explanation. 

Connecting Puerto Rico, Miami and Bermuda, the Bermuda Triangle was first coined in 1964 in a popular magazine article by a writer named Vincent Gaddis. A year later, he released a bestselling book, recounting the mysterious disappearance of boats, ships, planes, and a squadron of WWII fighter planes, all of which seemingly vanished into thin air.

A bus of local school kids arrives at the Bermuda Underwater Exploration Institute, their eyes widening like saucers when they see a giant squid statue suspended from the ceiling over the lobby. The centre devotes itself to educating the public and conserving Bermudian waters, with exhibits on diving, pollution, vanishing seagrass, the island’s unique topography, shipwrecks, and one of the largest private shell collections in the world.

An interactive exhibit about the Bermuda Triangle is the perfect place to search for clues to this enduring mystery. As Agent Mulder repeatedly states in The X-Files: the truth is out there, and I want to believe. 

Interactive boards explain the island’s unique geography and provide information on dozens of aircraft and ships that have gone missing. The exhibit addresses both natural and supernatural theories, and like the myth itself, it straddles the line between spooky fun and real scientific evidence. Bermuda Underwater Exploration Institute Programme Director Hannah Horsfield grew up in Bermuda and has often sailed through the Triangle. I ask her if she encountered any weirdness. 

The introduction of GPS has largely eliminated the disappearance of planes or ships, although there are still occasional reports of missing craft. Tragically, a Canadian-based air ambulance disappeared on a flight from Bermuda to Boston in October 2026. Over in the Pacific Ocean, the disappearance of Malaysian Airlines’ MH370 is attributed to the vast size and depth of our oceans. Still, given today’s navigational technology, how is anything disappearing at all?

“It’s the high seas, and it’s just… big. And here we are, bobbing around on our little boats,” explains Dr. Philippe Rouja, a cultural anthropologist and Bermuda’s Custodian of Shipwrecks. 

We’re having a drink in a ritzy yacht club, and he’s pulled out a map with the locations of some of his shipwreck discoveries. I figure if anyone would have experienced supernatural entities in the Triangle, it’s the guy who trawls the region in search of shipwrecks. Surprisingly, Rouja has nothing unusual to report, so I ask him what he makes of the Bermuda Triangle myth.

With decades of dives under his belt, he recounts a successful night rescue of some divers who got separated from their boat, but otherwise has nothing to report. Forget the Bermuda Triangle: his biggest concern is encroaching lionfish, an invasive species from the Indo-Pacific causing havoc in the Atlantic. I watch him spear a couple that morning.

With so many wrecks to explore, Bermuda offers world-class diving in clear, warm waters. I purchase a souvenir T-shirt in Dive Bermuda’s gift shop that reads: “I Survived a Dive in the Bermuda Triangle.” If nothing is going on, why do I still gravitate toward the myth of a mystery? Why do so many people associate Bermuda with spookiness, rather than the island’s rich history, festive annual Cup Match, strong rum cocktails, legendary fish sandwiches, or pink powder beaches? Bermudians seem to dismiss the Triangle unless they can capitalize on it for souvenirs and public interest. Otherwise, they’re quite content to just carry on living in their genteel and prosperous paradise. A British Overseas Territory and offshore banking haven, Bermudians smile a lot, love their cricket, and enjoy one of the world’s highest per capita incomes.