I had two dives left to get my certification and both were happening on the same day. From a boat, this time.
The sun rose early, I rose soon after and was very happy to see it. Better weather means better visibility which means better dives.
We left from the beach behind the resort, carrying our equipment and navigating our way through those pain-in-the-ass rocks, to where the boat waited. There were quite a few of us. Myself, a girl from Chennai (who was going to be my dive buddy), a spotty teenager and a middle-aged French couple - the same French couple I'd seen at the airport in Port Blair, the ones who'd lit their cigarettes as soon as they exited the airport. There were also two instructors.
We settled ourselves on the boat, the instructors took turns to tell us things that I no longer have any memory of, and after about fifteen minutes of speeding through the sea (warm sun, cold wind, astringent spray, absolute bliss), we arrived at the dive spot. (The French couple very disgruntled because the instructors wouldn't let them smoke on the boat. They sat apart from the rest of us muttering to each other, hissing the way the French do to people who don't know the language. I felt great empathy for them. A cigarette would have been just the thing to round off the aforementioned warm sun and astringent spray.)
Girl-From-Chennai and I were assigned to one instructor (Kirtan) because both of us apparently needed to do the same dives to get our certificates. The other group were on a 'fun' dive, whatever that is. They jumped off and swam somewhere else and aren't particularly important to the story.
I rolled off the boat, the way I'd been told to, and managed a fairly dignified entry into the sea. We did a couple of exercises and down we went. (I had to wait at the surface for Kirtan and Girl-From-Chennai to finish one of her exercises separately and it was a nightmare. I was holding on to the mooring line but the boat didn't seem very moored, if you ask me. It kept floating towards me and I had to desperately kick back to avoid it hitting my head and knocking me unconscious and sending me down to the depths - or something similar.)
I don't think Girl-From-Chennai had been trained as intensively as me and it made me appreciate Rylan's thoroughness. I hated those goddamn buoyancy-breathing exercises but I was more in control of the dive, being able to stay low without much trouble. I sent him a silent thank you as I inspected a small hollow in the coral.
The dive went smoothly.
It was when I got to the surface that hell began.
It was when I got to the surface that hell began.
We were so goddamn far from that goddamn boat which kept bobbing further and further away. And even though the day was clear, the currents hadn't recovered from the cyclone and were - well, nasty. It would have been easier if I didn't have my BCD on but I did. There are two ways to get back to the boat: hold the line and pull yourself towards it or just stay on your back and kick. I kept switching between both techniques: they were equally painful. Honestly, at one point, I just wanted to give up and have someone tow me to the boat but my ego wouldn't let me.
By the time I dragged myself on to the boat, coughing up the sea water that I'd obviously managed swallowing, I was done. Except I couldn't tell that to anyone really so instead I asked how far we were from the last dive site. Fifteen minutes was the answer.
We were on our way when a boat with cops pulled up next to us.
I regret to inform you that my first thought was please let there be something wrong and let them send us back to the resort because I will die from tiredness if they don't but as usual, nothing was wrong (nothing ever is wrong when I want it to be) and before I knew it, I was rolling off the boat a second time.
The minute I was in the water, sinking down in a perpendicular line to the sea bed, I felt fine. And I made the most of that last dive, trying to create picture-perfect memories of everything I saw. And then I was done and it was over - I haven't seen the bottom of the sea since but I hope I will again soon (voluntarily obviously, I don't mean I would like to 'see' it by drowning or something).
I came back to the resort and slept.
In the evening, Kirtan sat me down and gave me my assessment and took a photo of me for the card that was to proclaim me eligible to dive in open waters up to 60 feet anywhere in the world. (Baha.)
I've already talked about my last morning there so I'll stop writing now because there's nothing more to say. After the morning at the beach, I took an auto to the ferry that took me back to Port Blair. We crossed the sea in the evening and I had a window seat (positioned, this time around, to allow people to look through it).
I watched as the sun slipped away and the blue water turned gold and then black.
"Goodnight," I said softly.
Understandably, there was no response.
By the time I dragged myself on to the boat, coughing up the sea water that I'd obviously managed swallowing, I was done. Except I couldn't tell that to anyone really so instead I asked how far we were from the last dive site. Fifteen minutes was the answer.
We were on our way when a boat with cops pulled up next to us.
I regret to inform you that my first thought was please let there be something wrong and let them send us back to the resort because I will die from tiredness if they don't but as usual, nothing was wrong (nothing ever is wrong when I want it to be) and before I knew it, I was rolling off the boat a second time.
The minute I was in the water, sinking down in a perpendicular line to the sea bed, I felt fine. And I made the most of that last dive, trying to create picture-perfect memories of everything I saw. And then I was done and it was over - I haven't seen the bottom of the sea since but I hope I will again soon (voluntarily obviously, I don't mean I would like to 'see' it by drowning or something).
I came back to the resort and slept.
In the evening, Kirtan sat me down and gave me my assessment and took a photo of me for the card that was to proclaim me eligible to dive in open waters up to 60 feet anywhere in the world. (Baha.)
I've already talked about my last morning there so I'll stop writing now because there's nothing more to say. After the morning at the beach, I took an auto to the ferry that took me back to Port Blair. We crossed the sea in the evening and I had a window seat (positioned, this time around, to allow people to look through it).
I watched as the sun slipped away and the blue water turned gold and then black.
"Goodnight," I said softly.
Understandably, there was no response.
