I had no intention of diving when I arrived in Cairns. I figured I might snorkel, but would see the Great Barrier Reef via a glass bottom boat. I have a fear of deep water that prevented me from ever having the desire to dive. Yes, I can swim in a pool, but I usually stay in the shallow end. There's something about not being able to touch the bottom that freaks me out.
Several days passed in Cairns before I could muster up the courage to investigate a diving trip. I compared different companies, and settled on Reef Experience. For $185, the shuttle picks you up at your accommodation, drops you off at the marina, you are served breakfast, lunch, and happy hour, as well as a choice of diving or snorkeling, equipment included. I consulted with one of the agents at their office at length. "Do you think my eyes will pop out?" "What if my eardrums burst?" "May I switch to snorkeling if I don't like diving?" After a lengthy incredulous gaze, she answered, "You will complete an introductory course that will teach you everything you need to know about diving. If you still don't like it, you can snorkel instead." I was sold on the trip. I didn't want to spend a large sum of money on an activity if I didn't even know if I'd like it. The trip was booked, and then my anxiety began to rise. Luckily, in the span of time between booking the trip and the actual day, I rented a car and took a road trip. That project took my mind off the impending dive trip.
The day of the trip arrived, and I was remarkably calm. I would say I felt more excitement than consternation. The transfer shuttle picked me up near my Airbnb location, we picked up several more people, and arrived at the marina. I was met by some young, friendly girls and guys in their 20s who checked me in, fitted me for fins, and handed me a medical release form. "You only really need a wetsuit if you're a poor swimmer, but it also helps with sun protection," said one of the instructors. "I'm a good swimmer," I replied. I found a table on the lower, indoor level of the catamaran. I began reading the medical release form, which stated that the wetsuit would facilitate buoyancy in the water and protect against jellyfish (stinger) wounds. I returned to the equipment station aft of the boat, and was promptly fitted for a wetsuit.
We were welcomed by the crew, departed for Hastings Reef, fed breakfast, and the divers were called over for an introductory talk. Lucy was a young, enthusiastic presenter who I thought would make a fascinating primary school teacher. "Diving is easy if you remember three things!" Oh no, where's a pen and paper? I really have no short term memory. "First, you need to remember to breathe normally. In...and out...." That sounds easy enough. Several people had told me to take long breaths and relax while diving. "Second, pop your ears as you descend." Lucy showed us how to pop our ears by plugging our nose and blowing. I prefer to pop my ears by moving my jaw around, and she said that would work as well. You just have to find an ear popping technique that works for you and that you can employ every few feet, or you cannot descend to the ocean floor. "Third, communicate with your instructor." She showed us some hand signals such as the a-okay and the thumbs up to return to the surface. I was relieved and encouraged that it wasn't more complicated. Lucy counted off at least eight groups of 4-5 divers and said to listen for your group to be called. I was group five, so I had some time to snorkel before my introductory lesson.
I descended the narrow, metal, port side staircase to the metal platform where the snorkelers were launching. Lucy had instructed us to clean our goggles by spitting into each lens, rubbing the saliva into the corners, rinsing with sea water, and putting on the mask immediately to prevent fogging. I sat down on the buoyant platform, put on my fins, and properly cleaned my mask. I glanced back at the attendant standing there. "Do you need a noodle?" he asked me. "No, I'm fine," I replied, and launched off the platform. Whoa! They said the water was choppy today, but this was incredible. I felt like a shipwreck victim being thrashed around in an ocean storm. I swam back to the platform and yelled, "I think I need a noodle!"
That was better. Now, to get some shots of Nemo and Crush for my niece and nephew. I practiced the breathing that I knew would be imperative for my diving lesson. I didn't like not being able to breathe through my nose, but I was told it took a while to adjust. I floated for a while, face down. I didn't see anything but cloudy, aquamarine water. Where was all this amazing sea life? I swam out a bit further, where I noticed most of the snorkelers were concentrated. It looked like the aftermath of the Titanic, with everyone floating face down in the ocean. I started getting nervous at the fact that I was tired. It was fatiguing to fight the waves and breathe through my nose simultaneously. I snapped a few blurry photos with my iPhone in its pink protective case. It was exhausting to keep track of my phone as well, even with the cord around my neck. I swam back to the boat, removed my fins, climbed up the ladder back to the platform, then the ladder back up to the deck.
My diving group was checking in, so I went over to the instructor and told him my name and number (12). We were all assigned numbers for the day to help keep track of the passengers, which is probably a good idea for a tour at sea. "You might want to leave your phone here," the instructor said as he looked at the case around my neck. "It's not a good idea for the phones to be underwater at great depths." We were diving fifty feet, and the girl at the shop where I bought the $30 case said it would be fine. I recalled a few minutes earlier, at how fatigued I was from trying to manage the phone in the water, and left it in my backpack at the table.
I climbed down the ladder to the diving platform aft of the boat and sat down. Three other girls sat down next to me, comprising my group. My mask wasn't fitting correctly, so I kept adjusting it and blowing through my nose to empty the sea water. The girl next to me asked, "Did you snorkel earlier?" She was probably wondering if I had any idea what I was doing. "Yes, but I really didn't like the feeling of not being able to breathe through my nose." She said, "It's kind of like you have a cold, all stuffed up." Perfect! That relaxed me, and I tried to pretend as if I were congested. A large tank was affixed to my back, like a backpack, but the instructor had to make some adjustments to my equipment. Our group's diving instructor was already in the water and was beginning the lesson! I started getting nervous. I was already behind in the course, as I couldn't hear what she was saying. The instructor on the platform finished the adjustments just as Lucy swam up in front of me. I guess I needed one on one intervention and she was finished with her group. "Are you ready? Just lean forward and put your face in the water." I tried to move, but it was as if I had ten tons of bricks on my back. What was going on? I tried again and couldn't budge an inch. To Lucy's surprise, I began rocking back and forth to work up some momentum and eventually, ungracefully, splashed face first into the water. Okay, I just had to remember those three things: breathe, ears, communicate. "I have to see you keep your face in the water for five minutes," Lucy instructed. I put my face in the water, breathing long, deep breaths through the regulator. I glanced down and noticed the rest of my group holding onto a metal bar attached to the boat about ten feet below the surface. They were already on the next step! Then I glanced down to the ocean floor. That did it. I lifted my face out of the water. Lucy looked surprised, "You need to keep your face in the water for a full five minutes." I think I had interrupted her timer. "I know. I'm sorry. I just needed to come up for a second."
We moved farther from the boat, as the next diving group was preparing to launch. The water was much more buoyant at this distance. At this point, sea water had crept into my mask and was stinging my eyes. I had ingested a fair amount of it as well. It was difficult to hear Lucy as the water slapped our faces and thrashed us around. I put the regulator in my mouth and she pulled me under a couple of feet. I was feeling good and getting the hang of it. Then I looked down. I panicked and looked up to swim back up to the surface. I couldn't remember how to communicate to Lucy that I needed to go up, so I just started swimming. At the surface, I ripped the regulator out of my mouth, lifted my mask so my nose was exposed, and gasped for air greedily. Lucy appeared, "You need to communicate with me!" Were we in a relationship? "I'm sorry. I don't think I can do this," I told her reluctantly. "Yes, you can. Once more, but signal to me what you need." I tried it once more, and we descended about twenty feet this time. My ears started to hurt. I tried to plug my nose and blow, but that didn't work. Moving my jaw didn't work. Then I couldn't breathe. I thought I was successfully breathing through the regulator, but suddenly I couldn't remember what to do. I looked at Lucy, who was smiling and trying to gauge my concern. My survival instinct kicked in and I bolted for the surface, possibly kicking Lucy on the way up. I emerged, panting, and she was right behind me. What patience! She reviewed the instructions again, but I said, "I want to get out. I don't want to go down again." She actually tried to convince me to try it again. What persistence! I thought for a moment. Do I really want to get out? If I do, I won't have another chance to dive. When I'm faced with obstacles, I usually try and try again until the task is finished. I couldn't believe I was actually contemplating failure. However, most situations don't involve breathing impairment and survival skills. Ironically, and in retrospect, I think I would have been more apt to continue if I didn't have snorkeling as an option. I was so disappointed in myself, but I was exhausted and needed to sit down and breathe as nature intended.
I took off the wetsuit and returned it. Then I went back to the table to put my clothes on over my swimsuit. A couple from South Africa was sitting at the next table, Betsie and Nardus. "How was it?" Betsie asked. "I couldn't do it," I replied sadly, trying not to cry. Betsie told me the story of how Nardus had always wanted to dive, and was finally doing it, at age 70. She was just along for the ride, not intending to dive or snorkel. "The glass bottom boat is ready. Are you coming?" she enquired. We boarded the glass bottom boat, which took us far away from the catamaran to get a clear view of the reef, while staying dry. The water hadn't calmed down, and I began to feel seasick. What a day!
After lunch back on the catamaran, we travelled to Breaking Patches Reef, named for the waves that break directly over the reef that looks like patches from above. Aptly named. I donned my fins and mask again from the port side snorkeling platform, and set out with my noodle, without my wetsuit, for more snorkeling. I swam farther out to try to get some photos with my iPhone, suspended around my neck again. It was still hard to manage, so I gave up on the photos and just concentrated on the breathing. It was getting easier, and I wondered if I could have handled diving in the afternoon. However, to dive in the afternoon, passing the morning course was a requirement. I looked around for something interesting, but really couldn't see much so I got out. I mentioned to one of the crew members that I didn't see what all the fuss was about. I couldn't really see anything spectacular. She pointed to where the waves were breaking over the reef that was visible from the boat. "You need to swim out there. That's where you will have the best view while snorkeling." Ugh, that means suiting up and launching again!
Once more, I found myself on the snorkeling platform, donning my equipment, and launching off. I swam far out to the reef the crew member had indicated, but noticed no one else was out there. I looked back to the boat and saw that the instructors and crew members had their eyes on me. Well, I thought, they told me to try this area. This time, I left my phone in my backpack, as I didn't want to wrestle with it. What a mistake! I put my face in the water and floated. It was Finding Nemo Live, with fish swimming in schools, in and out of the coral. Fish of all colors and sizes were performing their daily duties. I thought if someone were just deranged enough or on enough drugs, they could write an entire story about reef life! I think it's been done. I swam around a bit until I had my fill of views and of ingesting sea water, then returned to the boat for our afternoon Happy Hour. It turned out to be a wonderful day.
So, I failed the introductory diving course, signifying my first "F" in a course. Instead of "failure", I'll replace it with "focus". The next day, I was so focused on diving that I looked up private lessons, where I would have more personalized attention and not be so rushed through the steps. Unfortunately, the cost prohibited me from making a booking. I'll just shelve it for now, and the next opportunity that comes, I'll try again. The positive outcomes of the day: I improved my snorkeling skills, acquainted myself with the required breathing technique, viewed the Great Barrier Reef, and made some new friends.
We were welcomed by the crew, departed for Hastings Reef, fed breakfast, and the divers were called over for an introductory talk. Lucy was a young, enthusiastic presenter who I thought would make a fascinating primary school teacher. "Diving is easy if you remember three things!" Oh no, where's a pen and paper? I really have no short term memory. "First, you need to remember to breathe normally. In...and out...." That sounds easy enough. Several people had told me to take long breaths and relax while diving. "Second, pop your ears as you descend." Lucy showed us how to pop our ears by plugging our nose and blowing. I prefer to pop my ears by moving my jaw around, and she said that would work as well. You just have to find an ear popping technique that works for you and that you can employ every few feet, or you cannot descend to the ocean floor. "Third, communicate with your instructor." She showed us some hand signals such as the a-okay and the thumbs up to return to the surface. I was relieved and encouraged that it wasn't more complicated. Lucy counted off at least eight groups of 4-5 divers and said to listen for your group to be called. I was group five, so I had some time to snorkel before my introductory lesson.
I descended the narrow, metal, port side staircase to the metal platform where the snorkelers were launching. Lucy had instructed us to clean our goggles by spitting into each lens, rubbing the saliva into the corners, rinsing with sea water, and putting on the mask immediately to prevent fogging. I sat down on the buoyant platform, put on my fins, and properly cleaned my mask. I glanced back at the attendant standing there. "Do you need a noodle?" he asked me. "No, I'm fine," I replied, and launched off the platform. Whoa! They said the water was choppy today, but this was incredible. I felt like a shipwreck victim being thrashed around in an ocean storm. I swam back to the platform and yelled, "I think I need a noodle!"
That was better. Now, to get some shots of Nemo and Crush for my niece and nephew. I practiced the breathing that I knew would be imperative for my diving lesson. I didn't like not being able to breathe through my nose, but I was told it took a while to adjust. I floated for a while, face down. I didn't see anything but cloudy, aquamarine water. Where was all this amazing sea life? I swam out a bit further, where I noticed most of the snorkelers were concentrated. It looked like the aftermath of the Titanic, with everyone floating face down in the ocean. I started getting nervous at the fact that I was tired. It was fatiguing to fight the waves and breathe through my nose simultaneously. I snapped a few blurry photos with my iPhone in its pink protective case. It was exhausting to keep track of my phone as well, even with the cord around my neck. I swam back to the boat, removed my fins, climbed up the ladder back to the platform, then the ladder back up to the deck.
My diving group was checking in, so I went over to the instructor and told him my name and number (12). We were all assigned numbers for the day to help keep track of the passengers, which is probably a good idea for a tour at sea. "You might want to leave your phone here," the instructor said as he looked at the case around my neck. "It's not a good idea for the phones to be underwater at great depths." We were diving fifty feet, and the girl at the shop where I bought the $30 case said it would be fine. I recalled a few minutes earlier, at how fatigued I was from trying to manage the phone in the water, and left it in my backpack at the table.
I climbed down the ladder to the diving platform aft of the boat and sat down. Three other girls sat down next to me, comprising my group. My mask wasn't fitting correctly, so I kept adjusting it and blowing through my nose to empty the sea water. The girl next to me asked, "Did you snorkel earlier?" She was probably wondering if I had any idea what I was doing. "Yes, but I really didn't like the feeling of not being able to breathe through my nose." She said, "It's kind of like you have a cold, all stuffed up." Perfect! That relaxed me, and I tried to pretend as if I were congested. A large tank was affixed to my back, like a backpack, but the instructor had to make some adjustments to my equipment. Our group's diving instructor was already in the water and was beginning the lesson! I started getting nervous. I was already behind in the course, as I couldn't hear what she was saying. The instructor on the platform finished the adjustments just as Lucy swam up in front of me. I guess I needed one on one intervention and she was finished with her group. "Are you ready? Just lean forward and put your face in the water." I tried to move, but it was as if I had ten tons of bricks on my back. What was going on? I tried again and couldn't budge an inch. To Lucy's surprise, I began rocking back and forth to work up some momentum and eventually, ungracefully, splashed face first into the water. Okay, I just had to remember those three things: breathe, ears, communicate. "I have to see you keep your face in the water for five minutes," Lucy instructed. I put my face in the water, breathing long, deep breaths through the regulator. I glanced down and noticed the rest of my group holding onto a metal bar attached to the boat about ten feet below the surface. They were already on the next step! Then I glanced down to the ocean floor. That did it. I lifted my face out of the water. Lucy looked surprised, "You need to keep your face in the water for a full five minutes." I think I had interrupted her timer. "I know. I'm sorry. I just needed to come up for a second."
We moved farther from the boat, as the next diving group was preparing to launch. The water was much more buoyant at this distance. At this point, sea water had crept into my mask and was stinging my eyes. I had ingested a fair amount of it as well. It was difficult to hear Lucy as the water slapped our faces and thrashed us around. I put the regulator in my mouth and she pulled me under a couple of feet. I was feeling good and getting the hang of it. Then I looked down. I panicked and looked up to swim back up to the surface. I couldn't remember how to communicate to Lucy that I needed to go up, so I just started swimming. At the surface, I ripped the regulator out of my mouth, lifted my mask so my nose was exposed, and gasped for air greedily. Lucy appeared, "You need to communicate with me!" Were we in a relationship? "I'm sorry. I don't think I can do this," I told her reluctantly. "Yes, you can. Once more, but signal to me what you need." I tried it once more, and we descended about twenty feet this time. My ears started to hurt. I tried to plug my nose and blow, but that didn't work. Moving my jaw didn't work. Then I couldn't breathe. I thought I was successfully breathing through the regulator, but suddenly I couldn't remember what to do. I looked at Lucy, who was smiling and trying to gauge my concern. My survival instinct kicked in and I bolted for the surface, possibly kicking Lucy on the way up. I emerged, panting, and she was right behind me. What patience! She reviewed the instructions again, but I said, "I want to get out. I don't want to go down again." She actually tried to convince me to try it again. What persistence! I thought for a moment. Do I really want to get out? If I do, I won't have another chance to dive. When I'm faced with obstacles, I usually try and try again until the task is finished. I couldn't believe I was actually contemplating failure. However, most situations don't involve breathing impairment and survival skills. Ironically, and in retrospect, I think I would have been more apt to continue if I didn't have snorkeling as an option. I was so disappointed in myself, but I was exhausted and needed to sit down and breathe as nature intended.
I took off the wetsuit and returned it. Then I went back to the table to put my clothes on over my swimsuit. A couple from South Africa was sitting at the next table, Betsie and Nardus. "How was it?" Betsie asked. "I couldn't do it," I replied sadly, trying not to cry. Betsie told me the story of how Nardus had always wanted to dive, and was finally doing it, at age 70. She was just along for the ride, not intending to dive or snorkel. "The glass bottom boat is ready. Are you coming?" she enquired. We boarded the glass bottom boat, which took us far away from the catamaran to get a clear view of the reef, while staying dry. The water hadn't calmed down, and I began to feel seasick. What a day!
After lunch back on the catamaran, we travelled to Breaking Patches Reef, named for the waves that break directly over the reef that looks like patches from above. Aptly named. I donned my fins and mask again from the port side snorkeling platform, and set out with my noodle, without my wetsuit, for more snorkeling. I swam farther out to try to get some photos with my iPhone, suspended around my neck again. It was still hard to manage, so I gave up on the photos and just concentrated on the breathing. It was getting easier, and I wondered if I could have handled diving in the afternoon. However, to dive in the afternoon, passing the morning course was a requirement. I looked around for something interesting, but really couldn't see much so I got out. I mentioned to one of the crew members that I didn't see what all the fuss was about. I couldn't really see anything spectacular. She pointed to where the waves were breaking over the reef that was visible from the boat. "You need to swim out there. That's where you will have the best view while snorkeling." Ugh, that means suiting up and launching again!
Once more, I found myself on the snorkeling platform, donning my equipment, and launching off. I swam far out to the reef the crew member had indicated, but noticed no one else was out there. I looked back to the boat and saw that the instructors and crew members had their eyes on me. Well, I thought, they told me to try this area. This time, I left my phone in my backpack, as I didn't want to wrestle with it. What a mistake! I put my face in the water and floated. It was Finding Nemo Live, with fish swimming in schools, in and out of the coral. Fish of all colors and sizes were performing their daily duties. I thought if someone were just deranged enough or on enough drugs, they could write an entire story about reef life! I think it's been done. I swam around a bit until I had my fill of views and of ingesting sea water, then returned to the boat for our afternoon Happy Hour. It turned out to be a wonderful day.
So, I failed the introductory diving course, signifying my first "F" in a course. Instead of "failure", I'll replace it with "focus". The next day, I was so focused on diving that I looked up private lessons, where I would have more personalized attention and not be so rushed through the steps. Unfortunately, the cost prohibited me from making a booking. I'll just shelve it for now, and the next opportunity that comes, I'll try again. The positive outcomes of the day: I improved my snorkeling skills, acquainted myself with the required breathing technique, viewed the Great Barrier Reef, and made some new friends.
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| View of Hastings Reef from the glass bottom boat |
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| Breaking Patches Reef, snorkelers in the foreground |
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| Posing in front of Breaking Patches Reef. You can see how close the reef is to the surface. |
Best blog yet! I'm impressed with you, I have never had any desire whatsoever to scuba, despite multiple opportunities. I love swimming and snorkeling, and it' not fear, I guess in the moment, it just never seemed worth the cost or effort, especially when you can just chill on the boat and drink margaritas and snorkel at will, Friends of mine that scuba, must listen to me say this and make the same judgement in their head that I make about people that have never left their home country.
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