“Sorted, sorted, sorted…” I quietly repeated to myself while standing on the back of a boat adjusting my weight belt.
S – Signal, O – Orient, R – Regulator, T- Timer, E- Equalization, D- Descend.
Whispering the word one last time, I signed ‘okay’ to my buddy already in the turquoise ocean and jumped in. I was in Utila, Honduras, learning to scuba diving in the balmy Caribbean Sea on the largest coral reef in the Western Hemisphere- the Mesoamerican Reef.*
On the morning of my first dive, I was nursing a pre- PADI party hang over, a common occurrence in Utila which is known for its vibrant nightlife and highly social expat community. My dive buddy Sue was perhaps in worse shape, having spent Tequila Tuesday well, downing Tequila. But as it goes, hang overs are far better under the sea.
No matter how practical or useful, in my mind, that first day and that first dive- when you sit at the bottom of the pool (or shallow ocean water) and learn diving techniques that may save your life all the while struggling to empty your mask from the saltwater that’s splashing into your eyes – is not that memorable.
It was my third dive, when I had mastered the mask clearing, grown used to the pounding pressure in my ears and ditched the wetsuit, that is hard to forget.
CJ’ drop off in the far west of Turtle Harbour and North side of Utila, is a sheer 130ft (40m) steep wall drop situated on the continental shelf. To one side is a diverse coral reef teeming with life and to the other side, what looks like an infinite abyss home to everything from giant squid to possible Alien- esque creatures.
As we swam somewhat steadily along the reef wall, Sveta made a funny hand gesture and motioned us over. There, in a coral crevice, moving it’s antennae in all directions was a lone shrimp. As I moved in closer, avoiding the coral below me, I couldn’t help but wonder how something so unique and so alive had been reduced to an outdated and hum- drum life as the ‘shrimp cocktail’ with few acknowledging it’s existence beyond this measure. (This is true of many of the ocean’s majestic creatures- think Blue Fin Tuna versus pink flaky stuff in a can. But that’s a story for another blog.)
A few more hand gestures later and we had passed by a barracuda, a midnight parrotfish and a quietly ambling grouper. As an eagle ray glided below me, it’s mottled wing- like sides moving ever so gracefully, I was convinced not much could top this.
But as I prepared for my five point ascent, going through yet another acronym in my head- STARS- I looked up. And there, just meters below the surface of the water was a large school of fish, in the hundreds if not the thousands, swimming in a slow and constant circle. As the light trickled down from above, their scales reflected blues and silvers, bouncing off one another as they continued on their great upward spiral.
And for a minute, I remained there- buoyant.
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