Take Two

Once again I found myself hanging onto the mooring line, although this one was covered in slimy green seaweed from the bobbing boat to the cement block on the ocean floor it was tied to.  Jo, my new dive instructor who was about my age with a golden band an important finger, hovered in front of me reminding me to equalize every few feet as her blonde hair billowed in the water.  I didn’t really need reminding as pain builds up with the pressure if you don’t.  I prefer the swallow & wiggle method to blowing against held nostrils to produce the telltale crackle that means the air surrounding my ear drums has adapted to their new depth, which I was so desperately trying to achieve.  Failing means you get to go no lower and in my case, back on the boat allowed only to snorkel instead.

About halfway down the slippery rope, Jo seemed satisfied I would be able to dive so she returned me to just below the surface to demonstrate the fundamental skills for her that I already learned on Poseidon.  Once completed, I hung onto the rope watching a massive Maori Wrasse swim between and around the other divers like a curious puppy.  The fish is named for its markings, which resemble the tattoos the Maori warriors of New Zealand cover their faces like permanent war paint.  My other three companions had dived before (one was even certified but wanted to dive with his wife) so they finished the fundamentals in no time, then as a group we worked our way down the mooring line.

My ears crackled like one third of a Rice Crispie box.

The first thing I did after stepping on my second boat, Calypso, after putting my flip flops in the bin and filling out my paperwork was to talk the instructor about my ears equalizing.  She could do little else but repeat the words of wisdom I had been told by every diver since I couldn’t equalize on my first attempt, which basically boiled down to trying to equalize regularly.  Even if I couldn’t dive in the end, at least I knew she’d be patient.  Her colleague was ran us through the flip chart instructions, which settled in much deeper the second time through without my brain battling seasickness.  He had a new tip for me – blow your nose before the dive.  So I did even without a stuffy nose to blow, my ears crackled like one third of a Rice Crispie box.

As my group geared up I chatted to the couple from southern Australia and a typically tall athletic Scandinavian who had unstereotypical dark hair.  I told them about my ear issues and they were really encouraging, even supportive, so when I had to slowly work my way down the line I didn’t feel pressured to go as fast as possible because I was ruining everyone else’s dive.

I did’t have enough experience to know what I actually need to do with my ears though, so I just kept trying everything until something worked.  To make it even more confusing my ears didn’t always crackle, the pressure/pain feeling would cease and I could go on, but there wasn’t exactly a shiny green light.  I just had to feel my way through until I reached the bottom.

Despite diving with my contacts, anything that wasn’t directly in front of my goggles might as well have not been there for all my peripheral vision I had.  As a result I lost my instructor about 30 seconds in.  Although Jo threatened to make anyone hold her hand who strayed from the group, I was clearly the nervous one, so she just took my hand and guided me around the reef.  It would have been embarrassing if I wasn’t so excited about being able to dive.

The coral formations lower down were vibrant with life.  From here you can see the beginning of the reef, growing from the bottom up, building on itself in its many shapes, colors and different adorning bits of plantslife.  The bright red of a spiny coral protruding from an outcropping like twisted spokes from a Japanese fan caught my eye.  Shimmering soft corals sit on their hard coral foundations, dancing like long grass blowing in the wind.  Fish here are not plain, but intricately patterned like a hand-carved piece of wood.  Purple shelled clams sense you coming and retract their creamy white inner skin leaving only the hard shell accessible to possible predators.

As I stood in line for lunch (which was pretty good) I nearly did a happy dance in front of the 60 some people on the boat, but there wasn’t enough room for a full on clicking of hells in mid air like the Mary Poppins movie.  Instead I restrained myself to a gigantic smile while bobbing up and down.  I had already let some of the happiness leak out by singing to the fish and coral about how beautiful they were during my post dive snorkeling excursion.  Since sound travels faster underwater, I feel bad for anyone who was forced to listen to my snorkel mouthed renditions.

My second dive required no hand holding but still some patience getting down.  My ears still had water in them from earlier in the day so blowing my nose didn’t help as much (but did leave a drop of blood in my snorkel mask to remind me I had to be more careful than I wanted to be).  After another 30 minutes looking through my plastic window onto one of the greatest wonders of the world, I had already decided to pursue my diving certification because there is a whole underwater world to explore I don’t want to be stuck on the boat.