[This is an actual picture someone took diving in Cozumel... I found it at http://www.franksunderwatersports.com/%20Cozumel%20Eel.jpg
The more reassuring my instructor gets, the more scared I become:
I finally get the chance to attend class—Sr. Zen having allowed me to watch the videos and take the quizzes on my own up to this point.
As part of our instruction he points out that if we hold our breath when ascending that our lungs will explode. I start noticing my breath, even here in the classroom, and somehow I start having to tell myself to exhale. He tells us not 3 minutes later that bowling is more dangerous than scuba, and I’m tempted to point out that I’ve never heard of anyone’s lung exploding when they bowl.
I finally get the chance to attend class—Sr. Zen having allowed me to watch the videos and take the quizzes on my own up to this point.
As part of our instruction he points out that if we hold our breath when ascending that our lungs will explode. I start noticing my breath, even here in the classroom, and somehow I start having to tell myself to exhale. He tells us not 3 minutes later that bowling is more dangerous than scuba, and I’m tempted to point out that I’ve never heard of anyone’s lung exploding when they bowl.
He gets misty-eyed as he tells us about going through tunnels on Grand Cayman. I must have looked terrified, because he smiles and say that the tunnels are the size of busses. A bit of claustrophobia hits me just thinking about tunnels, even bus-sized ones, and I notice that I’m breathing harder. I think I’ll stay where I can see the surface. Then he tells us that at the end of the tunnels there are giant fish, bigger than people, that simply bump around and brush by you.
Okay, that’s cool, I have to admit. But I’m still a little rattled. In fact I’ve had a growing dis-ease with the whole idea of diving.
I only get 90% on the second quiz. Crap. And Sr. Zen tells some anecdote about a woman with long hair who they used to call the "Sea Witch" because her hair floated everywhere. I wonder if he's talking about me on that first dive and I consider, for the first time in 20 years, the idea of having really short hair.
My friends have kindly read this blog and the general consensus is that it IS very like me to dive into something like this [pun intended] out of the blue. Now I wonder what the blazes I’m doing.
I look online for wetsuits. Even though the water in Cozumel is warm, wetsuits can protect a diver from stinging things and being as scuba doesn’t require a great deal of effort (and therefore heat) one can get cold even in the tropics. 3mm, I read, is sufficient for Cozumel. I don’t know what 3mm means, really, and I find that I am more concerned about the color of the suit, anyway. One should have her priorities.
I find, to my horror, that a size L women’s wetsuit is meant for a size 8 woman. I hate to tell the people who make wetsuits this, but size 8 women are NOT LARGE.
I move on to better topics—like specifics about the dives in Cozumel.
But the problem is that, rather than being more excited, I just start getting freaked out. There are warnings about fire coral (sneaky little buggers who look like coral but who BITE), warnings about strong currents, warnings about used-to-be beautiful spots destroyed by the last hurricane. Then there are pictures of eels.
Oh yeah, ugly ugly little cusses. If I thought it was odd what I found at the bottom of a swimming pool, what will I think about what’s meandering around in the water?
WHAT AM I DOING THINKING I CAN SCUBA DIVE? This isn’t natural.
Then there’s the price—I’ve invested in fins, snorkel, booties, books, and, okay, fine, I admit, I bid on a wetsuit on Ebay.
And am I deserting my friend on our escape? I can’t go diving every day in Cozumel and leave Nancy, can I? That’s not cool. And I don’t have the required buddy for diving.
And you can DIE if you don’t follow the buddy system… and don’t exhale… and don’t wear a wetsuit… and…
Surprisingly, sharks are not among my greatest fears. Give it time.
I’m still worried about my ears. I had to descend really gradually even in the pool in order to equalize, and if anyone’s ear drum was to explode when diving, Murphy’s Law says it would be mine.
What the blazes am I THINKING?
Sr. Zen says, since I can’t make it to the regular labs that he’ll come early and let me play in the pool. He says “we” just need to become comfortable with the equipment and learn to trust it.
How very Zen of you, Sr. Zen. I’ll try to remember that when an eel is nibbling on my toes.
He also says that I could do my open water dives next week at a hot springs up in Heber. The very consideration makes me hyperventilate… almost.
Perhaps I should have gone for the brave/impulsive decide-to-learn-to-dive-while-on-vacation-and-before-you-have-time-to-wimp-out path.
Of course, as I type this I find out that I have won the bid for the wetsuit. Guess I am REALLY committed. And the suit matches my goggles, so I’m sure I’ll be fine.
Now exhale, Suz, or your lungs will explode.
No comments:
Post a Comment