When I was weighing the decision to leave my job of almost fifteen years, I wasn’t interested in jumping into another one right away. I enjoyed my career and the connections I had made (maybe the last couple of years were a bit so-so,) but I was looking forward to taking a sort of sabbatical from “work,” and pursuing many items on my list of things I couldn’t easily do while performing a full-time job. (I’ve since reconsidered this rationale after realizing it’s not the time you ‘have,’ but rather the time you ‘give’ to aspects of your life.) I was interested in changing some of my more destructive habits, while also finding ways to push myself out of my comfort zone with goals that challenged me in some way. Among the items on my personal development to-do list:
- Eat a healthy breakfast every day (Check)
- Start practicing yoga/meditation twice a week (Check)
- Quit smoking tobacco1 (Check)
- Adopt and care for a dog2 (Check)
- Learn how to scuba dive and become PADI certified (No Check)
How did I miss this? One of my aspirations while I had time off work was to finally go ahead and take the courses and training required to be a certified scuba diver. This was a curiosity of mine ever since I saw the Great Barrier Reef in the IMAX theater at the Museum of Science and Industry on a school field trip. I was in awe of the rhythmic motion of the film’s underwater explorers, gliding their way through wild neon sea grass and pink anemones perched atop castles of brain like coral. Schools of silvery feeder fish moving and bending in unison, shimmering like a sentient underwater mirror. Bright parrotfish, triggers, angelfish, clown fish (and several I couldn’t begin to name,) all adorned in extraterrestrial vibrant hues and patterns. Scuba had matured into a full fledged dream after seeing Timothy Dalton (as James Bond,) disguise himself as a Manta Ray to infiltrate a ship in Licensed to Kill. In fact, it seemed that James Bond was very proficient at scuba diving as it’s a featured skill in several of these movies. He’s a charismatic secret agent who always gets the girl. (In some movies, several girls.) Thus, it only made sense as well, that to be James Bond, I should learn how to scuba dive. Not only could I frolic underwater among the beauties of the sea, I could now partake in life saving missions if it came to it. This wasn’t the personal development I wanted, it was the personal development I needed.
I wasn’t interested in doing those executive style classes, where you break up your coursework, tank, and dive hours over several staccatoed weekends. Instead, I was interested in a more immersive experience (pun kind of intended) where I could spend a full week getting familiar with the equipment and the procedures and hopefully doing all of these things while exploring the great wonders of the ocean deep in Southern California. One of my good friends and fellow outdoor enthusiasts, Chris, was also interested in learning as he was working freelance at the time and had a fairly flexible schedule. I wanted to get started ASAP.
Then came the pandemic.
“Do you think they’d still offer classes? I mean, aside from all the saliva sharing and the danger of having difficulty breathing underwater while a deadly flu is going around,” I asked. “I think you may have answered your question,” said Chris.
* * *
We were staying in Key Largo in late June of 2020 (there was an easing of restrictions then–plus this is Florida,) on what has become an annual family trip to the Miami area where my sister’s husband, Dave, can take his boat out to fish as a respite from cold Chicago winters and the stresses of an anesthesiologist. The Florida Keys are a string of over 1,400 small islands whipping off the southern coast of Florida towards the gulf. They were formed from outcrops of ancient coral reefs, and provide visitors with an almost Caribbean climate, abound with tropical flora and fauna. The topology of these islands and surrounding waters make them a sought after destination for fishing, diving and snorkeling.
“Oh, you still gotta do it. It’s a whole other world. The currents can sometimes kick your ass, but where else could you see this?” Lisa shows me a picture of her posing with a peace sign under a coral arch, her goggles lit up from the underwater flash of her buddy. Lisa is my sister’s husband’s sister. She’s a small roundish woman in her early sixties full of joy, humor and vigor. Her build almost seems genetically inclined for an aquatic existence. My only worry is that she’s ever mistaken for a tuna (which might be why I never hear of her doing shark encounters.) She’s been diving for over thirty years and usually does at least one on these visits to Florida. “Plus, once you get your card, we can go on dives together,” Lisa continued. “OK, next time I come out here, I’m going to get certified,” I said, swigging some sort of skinny-canned lime flavored ultra light beer in the back of Dave’s boat. This is one of the few places where drinking such a beer is socially acceptable.
My sister, Mel, had planned another trip with Dave and family the following summer. This time, the destination was Key West, the westernmost island known for Hemmingway and a sloshy nightlife scene. I had already completed the online component of the PADI certification and booked my tank and dive training at a small shop out of Key West that also runs Snuba (Basically Scuba meets Snorkeling, but the tank floats on a buoy above you so you don’t need certification.)
“Sorry about the mishap. Google Maps took me to the boat slip,” I told the owner, Josh.
The actual scuba shop was adjacent to the Thai Island restaurant, situated in a sun beaten strip mall off Palm avenue which brings you into Key West from the famed A1A highway that traverses the archipelago. The furnishings were rather spartan and despite all the signage being removed, it was obvious that this was once a dry cleaners. (Which upon realizing where most of the work is done, doesn’t matter a whole lot.)
“Yeah we just opened up this location, so it may not be on the maps”
“Am I too late? I’m sorry if I missed the group,” I asked.
“Oh no. You’re actually the only one. You’ll go out with Everett”
Everett, my PADI instructor was in his early twenties, tall with shaggy blond hair with an average build. At first blush you might imagine him taking bong rips and listening to jam bands phoning-in these training sessions as just day gigs between the tip heavy booze cruises some of these outfits offer. But, it didn’t take long to realize that he was in love with dive training and a consummate professional. He didn’t do booze cruises either, but he did in fact like jammy instrumental music. He had a mild manner to him and I appreciated his dedication to safety and his steadfast patience while we worked the training checklists.
The tasks for our first two days of checklists were performed in a tank. Well, Snuba didn’t have a tank, so instead we performed our training in the back pool of the Gates Motel just a few minutes drive from the shop. Despite the foreboding name, the hotel and adjoining pool was rather pleasant on a Tuesday morning. Sure it looked strange to have two grown men in fifty pounds of scuba gear at one end of the pool, while curious children floated about on inflatable flamingos on the other, but this is what I signed up for.
One of the things I never considered was just how bulky and unruly it is to wear a BCD vest (Buoyancy Control Device,) walking with fins (you can’t really walk with them,) and a tank that weighs about forty pounds attached only by the friction of a nylon strap. Obviously this does change once you dive, but I’d imagine the most painful mistakes happen before you dive into the water. I always felt clunky and one misstep away from planting it. The other thing I took for granted is using my voice to communicate. I had a lot of questions for Everett, and found that once you were submerged, normal dialogue was difficult. While we were underwater, Everett would give such clear instructions using sign language befitting a green beret. Meanwhile, most of my expressions devolved into either the Shrug emoji, or some variation of the OK or thumbs up sign (Thumbs Up means you’re ascending, so don’t use that for any other kind of ascent.) How would I fare in a real emergency? We managed to get through all of our PADI checklists in the pool which included many of the safety maneuvers you need to know should something go horribly wrong with your equipment on a dive. My biggest struggle was maintaining neutral buoyancy (mastering your breath and inflation so that you don’t keep floating up or sinking down,) but I hoped that once I was in the ocean, I could hone this skill.
Those two full days in the sun and in and out of the pool were exhausting, and I can’t say that I felt extremely positive about doing tomorrow morning’s dive in the ocean where I couldn’t bounce up to the surface or wade in the clear lukewarm water of a hotel pool. I didn’t feel comfortable at all. But, this is not an unfamiliar feeling for anything that goes on my challenge lists. There’s a period of excitement when I just want to do or experience something new (e.g. backpacking in the Sierra’s, performing improv, writing an emotional essay,) yet I don’t have the wherewithal to realize that each of these goals exact a certain degree of hardship to achieve them. There’s always going to be a point when I question why I decided to ever do it in the first place. It seems to be a perennial blindness for me. For all of us that aren’t “naturals” at certain skills, we have to work hard to make it work, and we may discover midway through that maybe this isn’t a skill we can or want to master.
On to the Eastern Dry Rocks, a coral reef located within the Florida Keys National Marine Sanctuary. It lies seven miles southeast of Key West, and was a thirty minute ride on the Snuba boat. There was a group of tourists going on a Snuba trip (whom I slightly envied for their carefree composure) while Everett and I hung in the wings. The tourists probably thought we were diving gurus with our rigs, though I’d never been more than a few feet below the surface of the ocean and was still a little jittery. The boat dropped anchor. We reached the diving spot where a dive line ran from a buoy to the sea floor.
There was a moment of terror when I first dived, mainly because I wasn’t used to the strong current and choppy waters. Luckily, staying afloat wasn’t an issue, and Everett was the attentive professional as always. We ran through a few training exercises at the surface before descending.
“Look at all of the vibrant colors!” is what I really wanted to say, but the reality is that when you are 30 feet below the surface, most of the colors mute to a gradient of beiges and grays far from the technicolor wonderland I expected to see after watching documentaries like Blue Planet. I was aware of the effect of light refraction from my online training, but it did leave me feeling underwhelmed when experiencing the phenomena in person. I did end up seeing a few fish and coral on the ocean dive, but I had to really train my eyes to spot them. Furthermore, a lot of dust kicks up on the reef, and it’s not difficult to become disoriented while submerged. I still hadn’t mastered my buoyancy so I also couldn’t bob and weave like a secret agent. Did I really want to continue to scuba dive and pursue this as a lifelong hobby? Well, did I really need to do all of this now?
For the five days I was spending in the Keys, I had spent three on my scuba training journey with a now faded passion. Technically, I had just one more day of diving to complete the last two checklists required to get the PADI certification, but it would eat up the last day I would have with my family. Plus, Mel and Dave had planned for us all to take the boat out to a sandbar to barbecue, float around, and drink beer. Nothing sounded quite so nice as this.
I felt embarrassed telling Everett that I couldn’t join him for the last day to complete my training, but I was resolved knowing that I would be able to spend time with my family and enjoy this vacation on my terms. Following my dream to learn how to dive was important, but had I not achieved this goal? Had I not pushed myself enough out of my comfort zone to know whether or not this would be something worth pursuing? Everett seemed a little deflated, but then smiled as I told him all I learned and how valuable an instructor he was.
* * *
“…and make their homes in the tropical seas’ most magical wonderlands, coral reefs,” David Attenborough’s plummy English accent coaxes me back to an underwater universe. I sat on my couch in Los Angeles, streaks of emerald, magenta, and parakeet yellow reflecting off my eyes. My passion reawakened. I could taste the cool compressed air as it flowed through my regulator mouthpiece and hear the quiet once I controlled my breath. I could channel the feeling of weightlessness now; the freedom to move in three dimensions with a flick of my fins. I could see how close I came to achieving my dream. I could feel being there again.`
Ring. Ring. Click.
“Eco Dive Center, Culver City. How can I help you?”
- One could say that eating a healthy breakfast and practicing yoga were both contingent on quitting tobacco since a.) My previous standard breakfast was a coffee and a cigarette, and b.) I really didn’t want to show up to yoga class perspiring an ashtray. I was self-conscious enough dripping buckets of sweat while I held some of my first balance poses.
- I almost started back up smoking in the first few months of training Maggie. Dogs are stubborn, especially while they are vying for dominance in the household.
