Scuba Diving

Recently I was able to get certified in PADI Open Water Diving – and my experience was like nothing I’ve ever done before! Here’s my retelling of it for anyone who’s curious. Also, check out my Youtube video of Diving at Orchid Island.

The sun hid behind grey, menacing clouds; rain was coming, though I could tell, not for a while. A cool, fast breeze whirled past me, and I lurched back and forth with the rise and fall of every wave. Cold water splashed over my neck and up my jaw. I fought against the force of the ocean, triying to stay close to my group. Holding tightly to the yellow rope that extended from the shore down into the water, I was glad for the gardening gloves that kept my hands protected against the rough nylon.

The instructor shouted instructions at us in rapid Mandarin, and behind us the lilting voices of other students could still be heard, as they relaxed in the cove. Waves rose up against the shore, and the tired crash of falling waves played on a loop, a backing track to the sound of birds, people, and wind in my ears. I watched the instructor as he explained again how to use our buoyancy controls, occasionally losing focus to wipe salty water away from my eyes and mouth.

“Li Na!” He shouted over the wind and the waves. “Do you understand?”

“I understand!” Well, maybe 70 percent.

Satisfied, he descended beneath the surface as I fumbled to clamp my teeth around the snorkel. Pulling on my buoyancy controller, I followed him. Cold water rose above my chin, my mouth, and over the plastic of my goggles.

Water filled my ears, and a muffled stillness settled over my senses. Without the stark contrast of the open air, the sea water didn’t feel nearly as cold. The wind and the waves, the students laughing above us only moments before seemed like part of another world. I felt my goggles compress against the cheeks and chided myself to remember to breathe in through my mouth.

A subtle hissing that told me oxygen was running up the snorkel and into my mouth, and an overlapping blub-sound of bubbles, like water flowing into a bucket, that followed it as I exhaled. Other than that, there were no sounds at all, only the muffled muteness of water in my ears.

The current might have been pushing me around as it had at the surface, but in all the open water I couldn’t tell if it was there or not. My wetsuit was no longer cold against my skin; my oxygen tank and the vest holding it to me felt weightless. The only thing that remained unaffected was my sight.

I could see every detail of my instructor clearly, from the white-lettered stitching on his wetsuit to the lose tendrils of dark hair drifting lazily above his head. The rocks behind him were crystal clear, and the rough purple mass of coral covering them reminded me of a large lumpy mushroom. I glanced around us and saw rocks protruding from the side of the cove, forming a bumpy wall with crevices, green moss, and corals covering its surface. The crowd of small fish fluttered around the rocks, sending flashes of silver whenever one of them turned. The invisible surface of my goggles began to fog, and I reminded myself to breathe out through my mouth.

The rocks of the cove enclosed us on all sides, and gathered inwards until they sharply retreated, forming a narrow exit 3 metres wide. The instructor motioned for us to follow him. He swam deeper, following the taunt yellow rope tied to a large rock on the ocean floor. Holding onto the yellow rope with my right hand, I pressed the button in my left hand to release more air from my buoyancy controller and kicked my legs out towards the surface. The powerful fin of each flipper propelled me forward with ease.

As we swam downwards, pressure filled my ears, and I swallowed uncomfortably to release it. When that didn’t work, I released the rope to hold my fingers over my nostrils and breathed out hard. The pressure burst, and the subtle sound of bubbles returned.

On the ocean floor, I could see the corals closer than ever before. They weren’t nearly as vibrant as I had expected, though I didn’t know before I saw them that I had expectations. A somewhat muted purple mass of them covered nearby boulders. Beyond that, dull orange branches rose up from the rocks, curving in and out to form a maze.

As we swam further into the ocean, taking care not to bump into the corals and rocks that closed in around us, more fish began to appear. Large, long black and white striped ones, round white and blue ones the size of my hand, with fins of vibrant yellow, swam past us, unconcerned.

A small vibrant blue and yellow ribbon of a fish flitted around a larger, slower grey one, picking at its scales as it moved. I saw several of these fish, busily nibbling at the scales of larger fish and darting expertly around them. A symbiotic relationship in action!

              ~Lanyu, Orchid Island~

This time, we stepped over small protruding coral rocks to get into the water. The weight of my oxygen tank unbalanced me, and I took long strides to keep from falling over. Finally, we reached the edge of the shallow shelf, facing an open expanse of water. I pressed on the button to fill my vest with air, and half-fell, half-jumped into the warm water.

The corals were still muted shades of orange, purple, and brown, and again, it was the fish that caught my attention. Deep blues, black and white stripes, neon yellows, oranges, and purples, fish as small as my little finger and others longer than my forearm, some wide and round, some skinny and slender. That all this diversity could exist in one space, in one ecosystem, was astounding. We swam deeper, through alleyways in the rock, up and around tunnels and caves. Drifting along the seafloor reminded me of walking down the streets of a city. Having lived in small towns for much of my adult life, whenever I visit a city, the sight of towering buildings and their unusual architecture takes my breath away. Under the water, the towering expanses of corals formed a natural city infinitely more breathtaking than anything man could create.

I struggled to feel completely comfortable using just my feet to propel forward, though that was what was instructed. Suddenly my hand scraped against the tough, hard surface of the corals. Ouch! I understood why we were supposed to use only our flippers now. The rough coral could easily cut skin with a little pressure.

I saw a circular shaped grey thing swimming in the distance. I motioned towards it, curious. As we got closer, I was even more confused – the thing looked more alien than any creature I had ever seen. About a foot long, it had a thin skirt surrounding its oblong body, and little ripples in the skirt sent it floating backwards, away from us. Long, thick tentacles protruded from its face, drifting down in the current. Its smooth back was covered in zebra-like, bright stripe patterns of grey-brown, black, and white. An octopus? Or squid? It looked nothing like the octopus and squid I’d seen in pictures. Too colourful, too alien, and its movements were so fluid, the little skirt around its body moving as if it was flapping in the wind. (Later, on land, we learned it was a cuttlefish – but when I looked at pictures of cuttlefish, there was some quality to it that couldn’t be conveyed from a picture.)

We swam out into the open expanse of water, up to the surface to look at anemones and tiny clownfish swimming skittishly through them. We looked at flat, mushroom-like rock formations, schools of bright silver fish, and even saw a blue and black striped eel resting on the sea floor, under an outcropping of rock.

Finally, when the needle on my oxygen analyzer pointed to 50, (we had started at 200), we turned back, and made the treacherous trek over the shallow rocks to return to the car. We were exhausted, but awestruck and alight with the memories of our recent discoveries.

Diving was an incredible experience and I feel so grateful to have had the chance to learn! My bucket list gets smaller by the day.