Thursday, 7/24/03 - 17:02
We got our diver certifications last weekend! And this afternoon I made reservations for our first boat trip on our own, on Saturday.
Last Saturday we left before 6 AM for our open water training dives. It was raining persistently and on the moving boat it was sweater and hat weather. We were squinting and grinning into the wind all the way out to the Channel Islands. Our class in the pool started out with nine people and two instructors, but three of the people were doing their open water diving at a different time. The two twelve-year olds, who either had mild cases of ADD or severe cases of being twelve-year old boys, went with the other teacher. Thus four of us -- Ted, me, Markus aus Bayern, and an older guy whose name I'm blanking on -- were with Dustin. Dustin is a combo of crazy, disciplined, and jocular that I vaguely associate with guys in the army, plus he has various instructorly virtues. Based on his travel estimates, I doubt he drives less than 90 mph when he can avoid it. I like him. For some reason he inspires at least as much confidence and enthusiasm as that other more low-key and reassuring instructor. Also with us was his girlfriend / coworker, who was licensed in making sure no one gets into trouble.
First dive: 32 minutes, max depth of 32 feet. The four of us students grouped together on a sandy patch of bottom before following Dustin off over rocks draped with languid sea stars, sea urchins, and bivalves. Dustin picked up a massive crab and handed it to Ted, which seemed rather dangerous until Ted told me that its claws were broken. Then we cruised some more, practically on top of each other like puppies squirming towards milk. In the mental overload of keeping track of Dustin, clearing what's normally not a leaky mask, and looking at the marine life, I grew thoroughly disoriented about where we were relative to the boat, the surface, and the rest of the world. The one thing I did keep remembering to check was my air supply.
For a while I felt as if I weren't really there at all, that my movements were disjoint from the scenery on the other side of my glass-paned mask. What's missing was the sharp epistemological shock of cold breathless water, which is what lets you know you're really swimming. The 68 degree water felt warmer than the air on the surface, thanks to my wetsuit, and of course breathing was also pretty much normal. Certainly it's hard to believe that we were several storeys underwater, and even harder to think that we were still off-gassing nitrogen hours later.
Second dive: 26 minutes, max depth of 35 feet. We practiced emergency skills -- regulator retrieval, mask clearing, air sharing, emergency ascents with one's Ted -- and looked at more ocean life. The scary thing was that I lost control of my buoyancy at one point and ascended too quickly, despite desperately trying to vent air, but the problem was that I hadn't oriented my body and the hose in such a way that the air could escape efficiently. Well, now I know, and you can bet there's a reason we only went down 30 feet on our first couple training dives. Fortunately my panic reaction is increased breathing rather than holding my breath. Still, after that I felt so weak and freaked out that I couldn't stand up right away after I climbed up back up the ladder onto the boat.
Third dive: 30 minutes, max of 40 feet deep. So much fun! Like swimming in an aquarium. We practiced more emergency air sharing and ascent procedures and then went exploring as a class up and down the rocks of the reef.
Then the more experienced people went on a fourth dive from the boat, while those of us still in training sat in a hot tub and felt good. Of course the next morning we were sore -- aching shoulders, aching ribs. Besides the tank, I was wearing 26 pounds of weight to counteract the buoyancy of the 7 mm wetsuit in salt water.
Sunday was our last training dive, and we entered from the beach. Now we got to plan and execute our own dives for the first time -- the instructors stayed on the surface in a kayak in case of emergencies. It was a tremendous experience. Fourth dive: 51 minutes (but it could've been longer because we returned with twice as much air as we needed to return with), and max depth of 28 feet. Visibility was only about 8 feet max, and at times much less. Ted and I held hands the whole time to stay together, hovering along the rolling sea floor. When the floor drops a few feet, you exhale and feel yourself sink. In the shade of the kelp, the ocean becomes darker and more three-dimensional. It's hard to remember more than scattered impressions, like half-heard names in a language whose patterns you don't know. More sea urchins, large sea stars, small anonymous fish and crabs, a rockfish, and one small bat ray. But now it felt real. Ted and I kept commenting at how amazing it is that fish live at the beach, in the same places we'd normally go to swim.
I'm so psyched for Saturday to come again. Let the tossing of money into the water begin, mateys, by the fistful!
Long live Diaryland!
The five most recent entries:
More Naval Gazing - Saturday, 8/13/05
Anniversary Diving - Friday, 8/12/05
Academic Tip of the Week - Tuesday, May. 17, 2005
How to tell a Midwesterner - Sunday, 4/24/05
Academic Feelings - Thursday, 4/21/05
Ted's most recent entry:
Monday, May 12