Today was the big day…the day we had all worked so hard towards and one that has been highly anticipated, tempered with a little apprehension.
After just finishing a fantastic meal at the Paradise Moon in Kralendijk (essentially downtown Bonaire), I am exhausted and ready for my bed. But before I turn in, I have to share how our first day as closed circuit divers went. There is no real way for me to condense such a range of experiences and emotions into a few short sentences but here is my attempt.
Dive One
From all I had read and been warned, I had mentally prepared myself for, and feel I had realistic expectations of how this morning would go, and I think that helped me immensely. Let’s just say that the words of a good friend of mine rang in my ears over and over – “Cut yourself some slack right from the start – it’s like being a new diver all over again but three times as intense”. And it certainly was. I honestly think the longer you have been diving the more disadvantaged you are making the switch as there are a number of habits you have to break. Being someone who is deeply comfortable in the water on scuba gear, it takes you back a little when after all these years you are awkward, struggling and all over the place. I had to rethink several ways of doing things, but establishing neutral buoyancy was my most serious challenge and maintaining it was virtually non-existent. My advice to anyone about to take the plunge into rebreather diving is be very aware that no matter how many years or how much training you have under your weight belt, closed circuit is a whole new animal. Let go of your ego, be kind to yourself, be patient and know that it is natural for diving to once again feel horribly unnatural.
Most of my first dive was spent focused on my (lack of) buoyancy, staying off the ocean floor and my breathing. I tried at times to look at the fish around me and see why on earth I signed up for this, but I really couldn’t concentrate on anything other than my own ugly presence and simply how to be underwater. Because of this I was quite noisy and certainly bobbed around all over the place most of the time. But there was one brief moment where I was able to be completely still at the same time as Mike (our instructor) and John (my hubby and fellow student) and for just a few seconds I understood the term “silent diving”. It was unbelievable. As regular divers we’re used to the sound of our breathing and bubbles. It is the universal anthem of scuba and a sound associated with pleasant feelings…it means we are doing what we love. We are submerged. But I have to say that being in the ocean, with absolutely no sound at all is something spectacular and honestly indescribable. More importantly, it is how the environment is in its natural state when we are not there.
Other than that moment, there really was nothing I can share except a picture of struggle, effort and the see-saw emotions of being frustrated with myself and cutting myself the slack my friend made me promise to do. We worked on a few basic skills but generally we concentrated (and in my case at least, failed terribly) on going for a nice easy dive. But we made it, and after one hour we emerged with a just a little sense of achievement. We had dived on rebreathers!
Dive Two
Having decided after the first dive that there was no way I could make this come naturally at all in one day, I entered the water ready to learn as much as I could and celebrate the small things. One of these came far more rapidly than anyone could have predicted: in about 15 feet of water, 2 -3 minutes into our dive in the form of 4 yellow-headed jawfish. These beautiful little creatures are one of my absolute favorite and I honestly could watch them endlessly. What made these so special today however is that we have been diving Buddy’s house reef for the past 5 days. In less than 20 feet of water, right near the beginning of the dive where we have crossed countless times before, this is the first time we have seen them in this spot. Not only that, but until I glided literally over top of them (when I finally was ready to move on) they never once retreated into their holes. They stayed out the entire time, hovering above their homes, literally eye to eye with us. At that moment, yellow-headed jawfish geek or not, you couldn’t help but be convinced on the “up close and personal” benefit of closed circuit diving. Sold!
As we had an agenda, we did move on after a few minutes and the dive consisted mainly of establishing and maintaining buoyancy at about 45-50 feet, plus repeating our skills. Maybe we were spurred on by our new found friends or perhaps it was the patience and perseverance of our especially amazing instructor, but this dive was significantly better than the first when it came to “learning to fly” our Evolutions. While I was still feeling like a complete newbie, I was at least able to get a little more comfortable. I had time to get to know the unit better, had intervals where I was truly neutral, worked on my trim briefly and actually got to enjoy some of the scenery. Albeit slowly, this dive is where the studying, the instruction in “class” and the drills on land yesterday started to come together.
It is also where I got to spend several minutes following a large green moray eel swimming completely out in the open as he inspected rocks and crevices and went along with his daily business. As we slowly finned along the wall at Buddy’s reef this beautiful creature swam right out in front of us, full body weaving through the water without a single regard for us joining him. Surrounded at all times by schools of fish, they only darted off when our eel swam through and broke up their formation – but never once as we approached. Not only were we treated to this full, unabashed display from what is normally a shy animal, but we had the sweet gift of something even more rare underwater – time. The luxury of being able to indulge yourself in spending as long as you care watching one single thing that peaks your interest already creates a true feeling of joy. Follow that up by checking your computer and seeing you still have several hours of no-decompression time left to go is utopia.
Tomorrow will be hard work again and I still am a bit apprehensive…being so new to something in a place we aren’t designed to be is not to be taken lightly on any occasion, but I have tasted already why it is worth it. Worth the time, the money, the effort, and the relinquishing of all you knew which until now has served you well. As I fall in my bed, I am sure tonight my dreams will be filled with gazing fish and dancing eels. I can’t wait to see what the cold light of day tomorrow brings!
