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Posts Tagged ‘wetsuit’
Even the Great White Shark looks tame in comparison to this beast...
Scuba divers frequently get eaten by giant ______.
(Fill in the blank: giant octopi, sharks, man-eating conchs, radioactive seahorses, etc.)
FALSE. You have a better chance of being killed by a vending machine than being eaten by a shark. Seriously. Jacques Cousteau once said that “Man, of all the animals, is the only one to consider himself a great delicacy.” Just because there are some large predatory animals living in the oceans does not mean that they are gunning for every diver that jumps in. Divers, in general, are too big and too loud (i.e. intimidating) for most creatures to consider us a food source. Not to mention that a human’s bone/muscle mass to fat ratio is darn near indigestible and definitely not appetizing, even to a great white shark. This is not to say caution be damned: I would advise against bronco riding a bull shark and parading about the sea floor with an octopus as a fashion accessory. But, to answer the question from countless co-workers, airplane seatmates, relatives, and even the little old lady who walks her chihuahua by my house every day at 9am, no, I am not concerned that something will eat me while scuba diving.
Chicks dig divers.
TRUE. Of course it helps if the diver in question is buff, tan and 22. If you are 50, hairy and can’t fit your beer gut into your wetsuit, you may find this myth to be false. Interestingly, many dive boats actually have a larger proportion of men on them than women. So, ladies, if you are looking to meet some new and interesting people, scuba might be the thing for you. If you don’t make a love connection, at least you got some good exercise and explored a bit of the incredible ocean. It’s got to be better than speed dating.
Diving is a great opportunity to do something with my husband/wife/partner/sister/brother/child/friend/good looking neighbor, etc.
MAYBE. Divers learn at different paces, so just because you and the target of your affection start out in scuba lessons together does not necessarily mean that you will progress at the same pace or enjoy the same type of diving. There is always at least one person on every dive boat whose former dive buddy just wants to sit on the beach, play golf or find the bottom of their margarita glass (repeatedly). Fear not, however, if you find yourself in this solitary predicament. Divers are a welcoming bunch. You will most likely be able to trade in your current stick-in-the-mud friend for a shiny new dive buddy who shares your interests.
All scuba diving must be dangerous.
FALSE. Divers tend to choose their most extreme scuba experiences to share with others. Tales of swimming vertically down the Devil’s Throat in Mexico or swirling in the murky Cauldron of Death in Chile make for impressive bar room stories more so than floating along in the 10 foot deep Flower Gardens. Sitting on the shallow ocean floor watching a sand eel pop its head in and out of its hole just doesn’t extract the same listener reaction as the bull shark that tore a chunk out of your fin as you escaped towards the dive boat. Scuba can be as dangerous or as benign as the diver chooses, based on the dive profile, resident critters and skill level of the diver in question. Like many things in life, there is a comfortable level to be had for everyone.
Learning to dive can turn you into James Bond or Scuba Steve.
MAYBE. If you just don’t have a cool bone in your body, no amount of bottom time will help. But, if you are looking to add a little spice to an otherwise tame existence, scuba might be for you. You’ll meet new people. You’ll have something new to talk about around the water cooler on Monday. You might even find you are motivated to go to the gym a bit more (so next time you can actually lift that tank). Note: spy gadgets and Bond-like attitude are not included in standard scuba gear.
Divers are required to have 3-day old stubble, a bad crew cut and a tattoo that says Mom.
FALSE. Yes, once upon a time scuba was reserved for the “heartiest” of humans who grunted and spat, while grabbing their god-given jewels before entering the water. Also, there was a time when most people thought the world was flat. So…has anything Nostradamus promised come to fruition lately? No? Then let’s let go of this Neanderthal notion of diving, shall we? Most dive boats hold a healthy combination of divers that are old and young, male and female, and (possibly concerningly) a wide variety of physical fitness. Scuba diving is now done (literally) on the 4 corners of the globe in every language you can name. I will say, however, that many die-hard divers have aquatic themed tattoos. Why? I have no idea, other than their conviction for the sea. I don’t have one myself, but am shopping for one now. I’m thinking a whaleshark with a wave. Maybe a Mom whaleshark.
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.
I’m not really sure what all of the mollusk fuss is about. To me they look like aquatic portabellas or perhaps marine potatoes. But enthusiasts around the world see so much more in the abalone, enough to dive in cold, shark infested waters to collect the beauties. Fans of Abalone diving and eating go to great lengths to celebrate the sport with festivals, cook-offs, and in prose (All Abalone are Deaf by Felix Macias.) I’m always looking for new diving opportunities, so I decided to find out more.
Where can I find these things? The majority of abalone species are found in cold waters, off the Southern Hemisphere coasts of New Zealand, South Africa and Australia, and Western North America and Japan in the Northern Hemisphere. Due to dwindling natural supply of abalone and increasing demand, some countries have begun farming the critters, including China, Taiwan, Japan, Australia, Chile, Iceland, Ireland, Mexico, New Zealand, South Africa, Thailand, and the United States. Abalone are mostly taken in depths from a few inches up to 10 m (33 ft.) Abalone are normally found on rocks near food sources like kelp. Divers commonly dive out of boats, kayaks, tube floats or directly off the shore.
How do I dive for abalone? It turns out that scuba diving for abalone is illegal in most parts of the world. Instead you have to freedive for them, which makes sense since they are usually pretty shallow. An abalone diver sports the usual gear like a thick wetsuit, booties, gloves, mask, snorkel, and a weight belt. You also need an abalone iron which is used to pry the mollusk off the rock it is so fond of, and an abalone gauge to make sure the size is large enough to take legally.
This is a good time to mention the insanely stringent regulations surrounding the recreational hunting of abalone due to their severely threatened populations. In addition to the aforementioned no scuba rules, there are limits to the number taken, the size taken and the time of year the tasties are collected. These vary by country and even by city, with strict penalties for non-compliance. Some places like California have law enforcement professionals dedicated to catching abalone thieves not following the rules (where did those taxpayer dollars go?) So before you go setting your mind to hunting abalone, you should check the local regulations.
I found one! Now what do I do with it? Abalone are basically sea snails, conceptually similar to conch. You can serve it raw like sushi, or steam it, saute it, boil it, bake it, or even serve it like a “steak.” Winning cook-off recipes have made it into cakes (like a crab cake, not chocolate, thanks), battered it in beer and even mixed it into tomato sauce over pasta. The key appears to be cleaning the fresh mollusk correctly, removing the lip, tough foot and guts. A thorough pounding of the meat with a heavy mallet also seems to contribute to a tasty outcome.
So although I can’t put my scuba skills to work, it does seem like hunting for the great abalone is an interesting proposition. Although I’m not crazy about continuing to deplete the population of this animal which has been so highly regarded for so very long, I do like the idea of celebrating its existence in so many tasty ways. Perhaps I’ll stick to the farmed version and dive for something else instead.