We set out aboard the Tropical Serenity sometime after dawn with 38 divers, arriving at Molasses Reef, Early Ray Alley about 30 minutes later. The boat slowed and stopped. What 5 foot waves really means is that the ship and everyone on it seemed as if on rollercoaster while standing perfectly still. A wave would pick us up, the boat would lean one way, then the other as the wave moved beneath us, pitching the deck angle low into another wall of water. The boat hands and scuba instructors carried on their conversations as if nothing was amiss.
After 10 classes in the Curry Hicks pool at UMass this was our first real dive. Each of us sheathed in black neoprene soaking up the Caribbean morning sun, flippers on our feet, weighted belts, air tanks, buoyancy vests, masks, snorkels and regulators, one by one waddling to the back edge of the boat. I was on the first group in. Right hand over regulator and mask, left hand over the clasp of the weight belt. Lift right leg and take a giant stride into the deep.
I will always remember this first moment. On the surface the ocean seems merely huge. Below it is unfathomable. I discover how one wave is merely a word in a sentence of how the ocean is feeling today. Surrounded by the sea’s physicality, less than a clumsy flea, inside a plastic skin, with metal strapped to your back and hips, the conversation is as intimate as life and death. A wave has me up, pulling me away from the boat, which is rocking and low in its own struggles, and is the only thing separating me from thousands and thousands of miles of oblivion. Salt water dries out my eyes inside the mask.
I find a rope line connected to the dive boat the crew throws for loitering. I wait for my dive buddy and instructor. Riding and being ridden by waves when I start to feel sick. I have to get out or throw up. I look to the boat again. It sways and kicks as the captain continues to help other divers with their first leap.
Around me there are some small fish. Gray bodies with yellow trim. The reef is right below my feet 25’ down, gray and alien in how it seems in constant movement, waving back and forth with the waves.
I throw up a little. Then more. And more. The smell and ceaseless movement of the sea pulls my guts outward. Before closing my eyes for a moment I see the eye of a fish, open, uncaring.
I open my eyes again after the struggle to purge to find little fish swarming me. Even ill and afraid they are funny and fun. They swim in and out of my arms, not at all shy. One nipped my bottom lip, like a bird’s beak, solid but very light weight. I realize I’ve just been kissed.
After getting myself together I did not dive well. The water was higher salinity than expected. The higher level of salt, likely from a surge, meant that the water was more dense, meaning I had not put on enough weight on my belt to get down easily, which was frustrating. Being stuck on the surface means being at the mercy of waves. So I decided to pull myself down with the boat’s anchor line, hand over hand, dragging myself below.
My sinuses were severely blocked. I tried to equalize pressure several times but it was a struggle. Nonetheless my dive buddy and instructor and I joined up and cruised down into and along coral canyons, first meeting a deep blue stripped fish off on its own, as well as other divers coming in and out of view in the depths. Most of the neighborhood of fish seemed unconcerned with our presence. A small school of fish, each maybe 10” tall and 1.5’ long with a striking zebra pattern, stood still against a coral wall even as I passed within 3’ of them. A dozen wide sidelong stares, unflinching.
Movement underwater with fins is easy and fun. The trick to scuba is breathing in a normal manner, so you practice with the gear and submerging over and over again until inflating your BCD or putting on your fins in water becomes second nature. As I swam, ascending over coral walls, sinking to cruise along the sea floor, my only thoughts and worry was how impossible it was going to be to see everything down here. The kinds and number of living things was overwhelming. I quickly stopped noticing the size and coloration of fish because there were just too many.
After only a few minutes I could no longer equalize pressure in my sinuses and had to call it. I floated 10’ above my dive buddy and instructor, giving them the sign that I had to go. I made it back to the boat on my own and threw up 4 more times on the way home.
