WK 16: Search & Rescue

Sunset, North Mahe, Seychelles

Bel Ombre's harbor is a symphony of nautical proportions. A fisherman barks orders to his crew as his boat returns to port with the day's catch. Hands pull, feet scuffle and eyes focus in concert. Chains clank rhythmically with the waves and engines roar and rev. An all but attentive audience of onlookers chatter idly, adding a subtle drone to the daily movement.

The harbor is silent below the surface of its oil slicked waters. Sound is muted. Sand and silt obscure my vision. In this sensory abyss, a heightened sense of despair wells up inside my chest. I combat the hopelessness, squinting my eyes in an effort to pierce through the murky water. I strain my ears, hoping to hear an electronic alert shatter the underwater silence. There is nothing. Nothing but sand and silt.

I've scoured the bottom of the harbor for what seems like an eternity. My dive computer is somewhere here below the waves of the world, nestled in the sand, settling in the silt. Silent. I am about to give up completely, call it quits. The sea has won this battle. Who am I to wrestle with waves that rock the world?

Surfacing between the two Blue Sea Divers' boats, I tread water and let my gaze wander. The sun is low in the afternoon sky. I tread water. Clouds drift lazily in the atmosphere. I tread water. Ferry terns dart playfully above the harbor. I tread water. Fifteen minutes of pain flash before my eyes jolting me back to the present moment- I can't give up now.

I take a breath and dive down for one last search. Disregarding my futile search pattern I estimate the distance from shore and dart below the tethered boats. No sound. No sight. Just sand and silt, silt, silt... Then, as I draw close to the end of my breath I see something materialize from the muck. Directly beneath the boat, my dive computer sits silently on the sand, half buried in silt and still logging a 'dive' over 900 minutes at 2.5 meters.

Search. 

Recovery. 

Success.

*****

Batfish and I

I'm halfway through the divemaster internship at Blue Sea and still surprises abound. Last Sunday, I was the dive shop's solo divemaster; later on in the week I survived one of the most chaotic night dives in history; and despite the odds, I rescued my dive computer from the ocean's grasp. On land and underwater, the week was nothing short of amazing.

Sunday was intense. I was the only divemaster in the shop. Sleep deprived and slightly miffed at being left to dry, I was hardly in a good mood. I shook off the morning blues and led all 3 dives, letting the water clear my head of lingering negative thoughts. Had my fellow divemasters not chosen to bask in the sun adjacent to the shop, my day would have been brighter for sure. But I kept a cool head, focusing on the day's dives and each one's unique experience. The mental effort was more taxing than the fifteen minute tread.

I was supposed to take Thursday off- but didn't want to miss out on dives, so I went to work after lunch. I led the afternoon dive at Sunset Rocks and partook in a night dive that will go down in history (if it hasn't already) as one of the most ridiculous diving pursuits of all time. It started out so well. The boat was waiting. We had our four clients kit up and ready to go. Then, a few men sauntered in and inquired about diving. For better or worse, the boss was more than happy to accommodate the four boisterous fellows. After that, everything fell to pieces.

The dive plan was scrapped and a new one scribbled down to accommodate doubling the number of divers. Kits were thrown together and rushed out to the boat. Time was stretched thin as silhouettes clambered about in the day's waning light. It was shear madness and the situation only got worse underwater.

Underwater solace

I led the four loud men with Natacha. They blazed through their air and waved their flashlights about haphazardly, disregarding any guidance or effort from Natacha and myself. I must have repressed most of the memories from that night. The moments I do recall are singular snapshots: underwater chaos, beams of light, sitting alone at the bottom of the ocean in disbelief, the safety stop with Natacha as we recovered from the night's unexpected exertion, and the sound of my dive computer as it hit the water, disappearing instantly at Bel Ombre's harbor. It was a most amazing night in some of the worst possible ways.

Thankfully, I survived the week's challenges and experienced the upside-of-down when I rescued my dive computer. It was a trying time in and out of the shop. Though stretched thin and pushed to my limits, I can honestly look back and say that it was a good week.