Sunset, North Mahe, Seychelles |
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 |
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 |
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.
Congratulations on recovering your computer! Your tenacity is inspiring! (hugs)
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