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Archive for the ‘Scuba’ Category
Neoprene is not the most forgiving of fabrics...
I’ve braved hungry sharks, roaring currents, and unidentifiable dive boat food. My dive buddy is known for pushing me in front of approaching predators with big teeth while he makes a quick getaway behind me. On the whole, I am a pretty adventurous diver, not easily intimidated underwater. But, I have never been able to conquer my fear of the great scuba diving beast: my wetsuit.
My concern falls into two categories: not having it on me and having it on me. First, similar to chocolate and my big brown dog, I need a wetsuit. Without it, no matter how similar the ocean temperature is to bath water, I get cold and then move to a shivering state faster than an octopus can strip a tasty clam. In a last ditch effort to warm up I will swim back and forth like a crazed tuna, a maneuver that has gotten me “rescued” several times by dive masters thinking I was out of my gourd.
Dive boat personnel frequently get a chuckle out of my space suit. “You don’t need that thing,” they say. “There are enough monsters in the sea already!” Easy there, buddy. I didn’t make fun of your mismatching shoes or bad taste in tequila. I know my limitations, especially when it comes to body temperature, so I schlep my 4mm suit with me to all dive locations no matter how small my suitcase needs to be. 1 pair of shorts, 2 shirts, 1 case of M&Ms, 1 wetsuit, and 2 weeks: no problem!
Which brings me to my second category of concern: the suits are, by design, tighter than NYC rush hour traffic. They usually have a zipper, put there like bait to lure the diver into thinking they actually have a chance at getting into the suit. I have heard that powder can sometimes enable the process, but no amount of talc could help me win this battle of The Bulge.
Once on, the neoprene acts like kryptonite for a diver’s positive self image of their body. It is so tight, one would think it acts like a girdle. But, no. Every hot fudge sundae and grilled cheese (with bacon) transgression is highlighted by the silhouette of the black suit against the white background of the inside of the boat. I’m pretty sure it was a very thin woman’s idea to paint it white in the first place. I try to overcome the inner tube effect by sucking it in until I realize there are some body parts that will not appear smaller no matter how much I deplete the atmosphere.
But then, the other divers on the boat put on their vests, specially crafted jackets that can be inflated with air for buoyancy. Suddenly we are all equal again, an army of strange sea life covered in lumpy gear shuffling towards the back of the boat in our fins. Splash! I’m in, floating towards the Technicolor reef below, my surface insecurities far behind me. Never have I felt, or looked, so good.
Neoprene is not the most forgiving of fabrics...
Creature of the Deep Terror (the Unknown Fish Phobia) -
Rationally, I know that 99.999999999% of all creatures in the ocean have no intention (or appetite) to eat a human. We are too big, too bony and we tend to fight back when chewed. For some reason, however, my Creature of the Deep Terror tends to increase the moment visibility decreases. The minute I can no longer see clearly (say during a night dive or when the diver in front of me kicks up silt) I start to envision unknown sea creatures stalking me from the shadows, just waiting to use their teeth, tentacles or other persuasive parts to turn me into dinner. This phobia seems to be shared by many, as according to Jacques Cousteau: “Man, of all the animals, is probably the only one to regard himself as a great delicacy.”
Fear of the Numismatic Museum – Many of the most pristine and prolific dive spots on the planet are located in very remote locations. When planning a dive trip to an out-of-the-way place, I have a recurring fear that my destination will be devoid of topside activities. This is not to say that I spend much time topside on scuba trips, but it is nice to have dry options for when the sea is too choppy or I need to get back on a plane within 24 hours. The Numismatic Museum is not the place where people with breathing problems go to study ancient inhalers, as I originally thought. The term ‘numismatic’ means the study or collection of currency. This extravaganza, located in Aruba, houses 30,000 historic coins from around the world. In an effort to protect these coins without using a vault the Arubans put the most boring name they could think of on the museum to deter any shred of interest or excitement about the place or its contents. I hear the name is working so well they are able to leave the doors unlocked at night. Places like this fuel my fear of topside boredom.
Creature of the Reef Terror (Known Fish Phobia) – There are certain reef dwellers that give me the willies. Unlike the Unknown Fish Phobia, I know exactly what these creatures are and where I can find them. Sea snakes freak me out, as do free-swimming eels (but for some unknown reason eels that are thoroughly parked inside a burrow are fine. Go figure.) Sea urchins make me uncomfortable, perhaps because they reflect my topside fear of needles. I also find highly-poisonous scorpionfish to be creepy, usually because I never seem to spot them until a divemaster merrily points them out. Just for the record, however, I want to point out that large animals, like sharks, rays and whales do not fall into this category. If any of these creatures are reading this post, I want them to know they are not scary and are welcome to join me on any dive.
Fear of Neoprene – My concern falls into two categories: not having my wetsuit on me and having my wetsuit on me. First, similar to chocolate and my big brown dog, I need a wetsuit. Without it, no matter how similar the ocean temperature is to bath water, I get cold and enter a shivering state faster than an octopus can strip a tasty clam. In a last ditch effort to warm up, I sometimes swim back and forth like a crazed tuna, a maneuver that has gotten me “rescued” several times by divemasters thinking I was out of my gourd. Which brings me to my second category of concern: the suits are, by design, tighter than NYC rush hour traffic. They usually have a zipper, put there like bait to lure the diver into thinking they actually have a chance at getting into the suit. I have heard that powder can sometimes enable the process, but no amount of talc could help me win this battle of The Bulge.
Back Roll Dread – A backroll is a highly efficient maneuver to get all divers into the water at once, thus addressing problematic currents or the lack of boat mooring facilities. As I stare out over the horizon, the water looks so very inviting. But once I turn around to face the center of the boat in anticipation of executing the backroll, the inspiration is replaced by panic as I imagine some great sub-aquatic drain plug being pulled, removing all water from the area. As the water recedes, I envision falling to the rocky bottom far below (don’t ask me what the boat is then floating on; my fear never really plays itself out that far) or landing in the jaws of some waiting predator that has been exposed. But then “splash,” I’m in, and the ridiculous phobia fades away as I acclimatize to the beautiful blue around me. I may have some irrational scuba phobias, but fortunately they never seem to last too long.
We made it to the dive site and geared up. My mask, fins, tank, scuba vest, and various other tubes, valves and bits were all in place, giving the overall impression of a medical supply warehouse, rather than a diver. Now came the most awkward part of any diving experience on a large boat: the Scuba Shuffle to the back.
The Scuba Shuffle is an aquatic conga of sorts, but without the maracas. The divers, who had plenty of time to suit up, all stood up at once due to some lemming-like intuition that drives divers’ behavior. Invariably the wind picked up at that moment and the boat began to sway. Queue the tin-pan music and the bongos. While invaluable underwater, fins are the least graceful piece of sports equipment one can possess on land. A diver can’t simply walk to the back of the boat and jump off, he or she must do a duck-like shuffle and flap, complete with the corresponding shrrrr-whup shurrr-whup sound. Like me, the others in the conga line were leaning forward to avoid falling backwards from the gear weight, but appearing as if we all found something fascinating on the rear of the person in front of us. Shuffle flap, shrrr-whup.
The boat continued to roll in the waves, picking up momentum as I shuffled past the more challenging boat features like the swinging wetsuit locker and the oblivious snorkelers with arms shooting in all directions at once. Snorkelers are generally not welcome on dive boats because they always seem to be in the right place to create the maximum hindrance to divers transporting and preparing gear. Much to our dismay, almost half of the tourists on the boat were snorkelers. We would consider using a different company the rest of trip.
Rather than jumping in, a logjam of divers formed at the back of the boat due to various forgotten pieces of equipment and irrational fish phobias. Like salmon in a swift current, the divers creating the jam could not get back upstream until the rest of the conga line passed. Shuffle flap, shrrr-whup. Finally, it was my turn at the back of the boat. I put my air regulator in my mouth, held my mask, and took a giant stride into the sapphire blue ocean. Unfortunately, my over-excitement caused an extra spring in my big step, thus loosening my right fin, which went swirling into the depths unattended. I can only imagine the fish thoughts below as they watched it sink to the bottom: “Oh look! Decorations for the calypso party!” One of the staff on the boat handed me down an extra fin and off I went into the blue.
Neoprene is not the most forgiving of fabrics...
Frequently after I end a great dive I wonder why more people don’t take up the sport of scuba. Sure, there are your usual shark, drowning and wetsuit phobias, and not everyone lives near water worth diving into, but still – what excuse does the rest of the world have? It’s not that I want to fill dive boats up to capacity world-wide (although that would be a nice boost to the scuba economy), but I really think people are missing out, especially when it comes to exploring the substance that covers 2/3rds of the world’s surface. Therefore, I propose these 5 Good Reasons to go diving:
- You don’t need to provide your credit score to get a scuba tank – It’s not the cheapest hobby ever, but there are a lot more expensive ways to spend your time. I think some people assume that a diver has to fork over a ton of bucks, especially in light of all of the gear needed, but it’s just not true. And, many dive shops offer discounts if you book with them for more than one day. It seems everyone is holding their hands out waiting to grab some of your hard-earned cash; make sure you are getting something life-changing in return!
- Voices don’t travel well underwater, so it’s easier than ever to tune them out – Pick your own brand of annoyances: politicians, fanatics, your in-laws, maybe even that nosy neighbor with the eternally barking dog. Though topside you can’t escape them, underwater they are blessedly silent. There is something incredibly zen-like about the lack of everyday sounds underwater, replaced by the more tranquil sounds of sea life, water and an occasional boat overhead.
- A little bit of exercise that feels good might be nice – Some dives I have done, like a nice drift dive over Palancar Reef in Cozumel, are so mellow that I bet I burnt more calories sleeping. Others, like those involving a roaring current or acrobatic acts to climb through wrecks, will leave you almost breathless and completely exhausted by the time the boat returns to the dock. Scuba can be a great way to get some exercise. Best of all, there is so much for your mind to absorb underwater that you won’t even notice you are doing something good for your body.
- “Hey, there’s fish in there!” – Fish, inherently, live underwater. Ship wrecks are, by definition, wet. There are some incredibly interesting things to see in the ocean, but only if you take the time to go under the waves. Squinting at an aquarium in your dry clothes just isn’t the same.
Keep your New Year’s resolution – Go ahead, look at Twitter or Facebook notations on New Year’s resolutions. By far the most common stated intentions for 2010 are scuba diving, sky diving and losing 10 pounds. I can’t help you with the sky diving thing nor the weightloss, but I can say that learning to scuba dive is a great goal for the year, one that you’ll appreciate not just now, but in the future years to come as well.
At a party last night I was trying to explain the finer points of underwater communications to a non-diver. Though I found the conversation stimulating, I’m pretty sure I did a bad job, since I left the party phone-numberless. I’ve revised my thoughts into the highlights below.
Highlights of Underwater Communication
Signal: one hand, fist clenched, thumb pointing up
Meaning: I want to surface now because I am: tired, hungry, low on air, bored, needing a margarita, or I just don’t like diving with you anymore.
Signal: hand held flat, palm down, making a sawing motion across the neck
Meaning: I’m out of air. Unless I sprout gills I’ll be dead soon.
Signal: hand held flat, fingers pointing up on the top of the head like a shark fin
Meaning: A shark fin. Rest of shark attached. Swim fast.
Signal: hand held flat, palm touching mouth
Meaning: I am low on air. I am about to rip your air regulator out of your mouth so I can use it. Or, you can pass it to me. Your choice.
Signal: index and middle finger touching the mask, then pointing outwards at an object
Meaning: There is something very interesting that you must see. Ha, ha, I saw it first.