Now it somehow seems even more appropriate, because on March 16, 2009, I made it to Nirvana (and I ain't talkin' 'bout the band, neither).
I got on the boat with Ricky, Snoop (my name for the dive master), a father and daughter duo, a father and son duo, and "B," a been-there-done-that New Yorker. I was so sure the little boat would make me seasick, so I hung back and got on last. I was wrong (as usual, apparently). The boat ride was fantastic. Bumping along with the wind, the sun, looking at the turquoise water and the white sand and rocky reef shores roll by, finally, FINALLY going to do a "real" dive: it was great. I could have circled the island in that boat all day.
I still had one or two things I had to prove to Ricky, my referral instructor in Cozumel, before I could get my official certification, and he reminded me of it just before we arrived at Palancar. Suddenly I felt a little queasy. NO MORE BLASTED DISASTER PRACTICE, %$# it! But I suited up obediently. I brought a dive skin (think bike shorts that go from ankle to neck to wrists), and I tried to discreetly wriggle into it, but everyone else was doing the same. I'm glad that I didn't bring the wetsuit, though, because I was self-conscious enough about being the only virgin diver on board without throwing in the acrobatics required to get into my wetsuit. The other folk, all very friendly, listened with bemused interest as Ricky went over the skills I'd need to do for this dive.
I know, I know. Not REALLY my first dive. But 20-30 feet down when I waded in from shore the first time and then jumped off a dock the second time didn't feel real enough to me. I guess not even the eel or the seahorse helped! I wanted to be completely free of shore. I wanted to be deep.
It turns out we were going so deep that I couldn't take my camera. The dive was to 60 feet, and my camera's only rated to 50 (not really a dive camera-- but until I have hundreds of bucks to blow on a dive camera, it's what I've got). So I left it on the boat. In some ways I think it was a good thing, because I thoroughly, completely enjoyed this dive, and I wasn't distracted by trying to take pictures.
This time I had to get into the water by rolling off the boat backwards. Naturally, I had issues. Naturally, I told Ricky I was scared. Naturally, he just looked at me like I was a moron. Naturally, he was right.
The boat was small, so diving buddies had to go off together, one on each side of the boat, so the boat wouldn't tip over. That meant when Ricky was ready to roll, I had to be ready, too.
I hung my (have I mentioned lately) really heavy gear off the side of the boat, put on the mask and regulator and filled my BCD with air. 1-2-3 splash and once again it was SO easy that I was embarrassed about my anxiety.
Ricky knew about my ears (how I have to go down more slowly because they don't equalize very well), so he stayed between me and the rest of the group, who were well below by the time I even entered the water. The ear problem turned out to be a blessing, because suddenly Ricky was pointing frantically to a space beside me, just out of range of my limited peripheral vision (mask issue). I thought maybe it was something scary, but it was a gigantic turtle swimming to the surface.
[Not a pic I took-- no camera, remember?-- but this is what my guy looked like]
TELL me that's not incredibly cool. And I got to see one before the rest of the group did.
I made it down (eventually), and it was one of the most awe-inspiring sights I have ever seen. The reef forms canyons, caves, and crevices, most surfaces covered with an unreal assortment of waving plants and sponges. The deeper you go, the less you can see color, but I could see every color I'd ever imagined. There were tiny critters and huge ones and everything in between, and every dark overhang seemed to have something cool hiding in it. I've never seen a place so teeming with such variety of life. The fish were not the least bit interested in us, and would swim around, near, and over us. Ricky kept leading me away from the group through canyons to point out different rare critters, but everything was so new and so interesting that I couldn't help but stare at it all-- not just the unusual bits.
All the embarrassment, all the expense, all the trips to the stupid ear doctor, all of it was worth it for those 40 minutes.
And this was a drift dive: just enough gentle current to move you along slowly. Zero effort. You just hang there, suspended a few feet from the bottom, and watch thousands of God's creatures as you drift by. The boat cruises down and picks you up when you're finished. No exertion necessary.
I know I passed off some skills, but I couldn't tell you what they were. None of it mattered any more compared to the reef.
We headed back to the surface (funny thing about diving, I doubt many people are dumb enough not to surface when they're supposed to, seeing as how you'll run out of air if you do). I lost a fin getting into the boat, but Ricky gallantly retrieved it for me.
I hadn't been near the group much, but back in the boat they all wanted to know what my first time had felt like. I gave them a huge knowing grin, which they all returned, and I gushed about how amazing it all was.
B___, the "been there done that" diver, had been to Cozumel to dive every year for 15-20 years. I asked him how things had changed, and he said there was much less life than there used to be. Maybe it's all the people (there were dozens of boats just in the area we were), maybe the hurricane that destroyed part of the reef, but I have to say if this is the DIMINISHED version, holy cow, the original must have been off the charts. Check out the pics below and the pics at http://www.diver.net/bbs/posts002/70452.shtml to see the kinds of amazing things I saw (this is random stuff I googled, but it's just like what I experienced).
We had to have our surface time, so we headed to a beach where we had a few minutes to wander. The beach was crowded with families and spring breakers and waiters bringing drinks to people under cabanas.
I was smug. I had just come from paradise. I had just been somewhere that made sitting at the beach all day seem like purgatory. I was part of a club that many of them just didn't understand. I wondered who'd been down there, too... who'd understand the paradox of excitement and complete calm that I'd just been through.
And I still had one more dive to go.
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