SWIMMING WITH THE FISHES, a memoir

The trials and tribulations of a young scuba diver.

When I was in high school, my intention was to study marine biology in college. I thought getting a scuba certificate would be a terrific thing to do, so my friend Tim and I signed up for a scuba class. It seemed to come naturally to me, and I studied extremely hard to do well on the written examination. When the time came, I got 100% of the questions correct. There was also a physical drill, where you swam to the bottom of the pool and took all your equipment off, surface for a breath, then return to the bottom and put it all on again. I got the fastest time in class, and I felt good about myself, and my future as a scuba diver.

 

The chief instructor was also the owner of a scuba shop. He had a standing offer: if anyone could stay down for five minutes breathing only through a three-foot long hose, he would give them a complete scuba outfit: fins, tanks, everything. The pressure differential made this impossible, but the deal was so sweet that everyone gave it a try. As soon as I started sucking on the hose I knew I had been set up for failure, so I thought I could get the best of him if I held my breath for five minutes. This accomplishment was possible for some individuals that spend hours training. Since I had no training what so ever, I was doomed to disappointment. I was going to have to buy my own gear.

 

One of the instructors was a beautiful young woman that everyone was in love with. She and I were paired up on a drill; we swam the length of the pooling sharing one tank and passing the mouthpiece back and forth, “the buddy system.” As we started it seemed extremely hard to get air out of the tank. Being so happy to have my arm around this bikini clad college girl, I at first ignored the impending crisis. I would pass the mouthpiece off to her, after receiving little or no oxygen. It didn’t take long to realize I was not receiving any oxygen because my peripheral vision was fading fast into darkness, but I continued on not wanting to give up my partner. Finally, she surfaced and told the head instructor we had no air. I was not sure if this was an intentional part of the drill to see how I reacted under an adverse circumstance. All I knew was that once the tank was refilled, my greatest fear came to pass, she was no longer my partner, but was replaced by a male body builder type, yuck.

 

Our first open ocean dive was going to be in Monterey, California, one of the best diving spots on the west coast. They had kelp there that rose from the bottom like giant redwood trees, literally a forest of kelp. As I submerged for the first time, my ears started hurting so much I could not continue descending. My estuation tubes must have been clogged up, and did not let the pressure in my inner ear clear. One of the dangers of this situation was if you did manage to dive deep, your tubes can block resulting in the condition called “reverse block.” This was when the inner ear pressure was so strong that it blew your eardrum out while ascending. When descending this condition blows your eardrums in, both experiences are quite unpleasant. The reverse-block was more serious, because being air-breathing creatures, you must surface. When descending you can always just turn around.

 

My instructor was worried about me and thought I should not take a chance damaging my ears. So here I was, the top student in the class, floating on the surface, while Tim and the rest of the crew were exploring the ocean bottom. I was the champ in the pool and the chump in the open ocean. Needless to say, I was bummed. One of the other instructors swam up to me and handed me a bottle of high-powered nose spray. It was a miracle, and it cleared my ears almost immediately. I jumped in the water and swam down to my friend Tim.

 

It was a wonderland. The water was perfectly clear, and the bottom shined with mother-of-pearl from all the seashells the otters had disposed of over the years. The sandy patches on the bottom looked like cultivated furrows in a field, with perfectly parallel rows. The most amazing thing was the giant kelp that extended from the bottom into long towering columns up to the surface. The sunlight streamed through the depths all the way to the bottom. I was awed by the beauty and excited to at last be experiencing the undersea world.

 

I felt like Peter Pan as I was swimming off the bottom, flying weightless through the forest of kelp. Like a bird, I cruised and weaved through the lush vegetation, occasionally startling fish from their hideouts. Next, I swam to the bottom and lay on the patches of sand. I looked up at the mirrored surface. Crushed up shells covered space as large as football fields. It was like a treasure chest of shiny, colorful objects, all reflecting sunlight back to the surface.

 

Because this was an area where otters and seals lived, occasionally white sharks had been spotted. I definitely kept an eye out for any kind of shark. White sharks usually attack prey that is at the surface, so being deep was a much safer place to be. There was a risk, but it had been hugely exaggerated. Off the coast of California, there had been a few shark related fatalities, but considering all the people that go in the water, you have a better chance of being killed by your mother-in-law than being consumed by a shark. I’m not kidding. In fact, sharks rarely eat human prey. Apparently they don’t like our taste, and take one massive bite and spit it out. The downside was one bite creates quite a wound, and most people die from bleeding out.

 

I was starting to run out of air, and I had already experienced what it was like to try and suck air out of an empty tank, so I surfaced. All the students were swapping stories of what they had seen, and everyone was bubbling over with excitement. Tim and I were all already planning our next dive, which would no longer be supervised by professionals. It’s astounding the things people do when they are sill young, and seemingly have no tangible fear of death.

 

Our plan was to dive off Seal Rock in Santa Cruz. Seal Rock was located off a surf break named Steamer Lane. This was the area where really big surf would come in during the winter months. Waves could get up to twenty feet plus. When the surf was breaking large, the whole area looked as if steam was rising from the ocean, generated by the crashing surf hitting against the cliffs, hence the name Steamer Lane. Seems like not the best location for two novices to go on their first dive unsupervised, and what about the huge sea lions that lived on the small rock island?

 

We stopped by a dive shop and asked the guy behind the counter if sea lions were a threat to divers. He seemed relatively sure they wouldn’t be a problem. Relatively, defined as, compared to other things. So what was this guy comparing the threat of enormous male sea lions too? A male sea lion was much safer than sticking a gun in your mouth and pulling the trigger, relatively speaking. Sea lions were much safer, relatively speaking, then standing in front of a fast moving train. So we were armed with relatively little information on the actual danger of diving around the refuge of these immense animals.

 

It’s astonishing the percentage of boys that actually survive their high school years. During my years in high school, most of the students I knew who had died, were in car accidents. And died because they were doing something real stupid. We could be doing something real stupid, but we didn’t have enough concrete evidence to back that up, so we did it. We dived on Seal Rock, occupied by sea lions, not seals.

 

Most scuba divers dive off boats, but we didn’t have a boat, so we swam out from the beach. The surf was not large, but there was obviously a surge going on. Both Tim and I had the look of trepidation on our faces as we swam towards the rock, covered by enormous barking sea lions. The animals were all facing us, and Tim was getting a bit too nervous, and regrettable was armed with a spear gun. The largest alpha bull dove off and began to swim right for us. Tim, in a panic, immediately starting arming his spear gun with an objective I hated to contemplate.

 

Don’t get me wrong; I was plenty scared. I knew if Tim were attempting to stop an 850-pound sea lion with a weapon designed to immobilize fish, we  would be in serious trouble. I was doing my best to explain to Tim we for sure did not want to piss this animal off. In the meantime, the sea lion was continuing to head in our direction. I finally persuaded Tim that shooting it was a suicidal endeavor, just as the beast dove under the water, still heading our way. Now it was out of sight, but most certainly not out of mind. It’s always creepy being in murky water not knowing what was under your feet. Sorry to say, we did know what was under us, and it proved to be no consolation.

 

As we waited for our unknown fate, Tim and I just stared at each other with an air of resignation. After what seemed like a frightfully long time, the sea lion resurfaced on the other side of us and looked back. He seemed more curious than belligerent. Maybe the guy at the dive shop was “relatively” right about sea lion behavior. Seems hard to believe now, but we decided to continue our dive as planned.

 

Not far off the rock, we plunged into the murky water. The visibility was about four feet, not at all like the pristine conditions in Monterey. As we submerged, we got a real feel of the force of the surge. It was pushing us back and forth about three feet. Pushed one-way and then another, back and forth, a bit nauseating, to say the least. In fact, Tim got sick and barfed into his regulator, and had to surface. I followed him up to see what the problem was. After I realized  he was “relatively” OK, I dived once again to the bottom.

 

On the seabed was where the sea lions decided to have their fun. What they did was swim at me full speed and then turn at the last possible moment. The mass of their bodies created such a powerful surge that it would actually roll me over. So it was a combination of two motions, first the surge of the ocean and then the mammal created a surge. I could not see them, then “wham,” the rush of their giant bodies swept by inches from me. It seems like a terrifying experience, at the time I was not enjoying it; however, I was not totally in a state of panic, and crying into my facemask. Maybe I should have been.

 

I did have enough of my wits about me to realize diving in this location, and under such poor conditions, was not a brilliant idea. Once again, I surfaced and found Tim, still looking pretty green. The sea lions were in full chorus, barking on the rocks and acting a little more aggravated than before. I said to Tim, “Let's get the hell out of here!” He did not object in the slightest, and we made for the beach.

 

“Poor man” scuba diving was not truly a pleasurable experience. What was needed was a good dive boat, and people that were not interested in foolish risks. What I enjoy more now is snorkeling in tropical waters. Not burden down with tanks, wet suits, gages, regulators, floatation vest, fear of the bends, air embolisms, blown ear drums, and so on. Snorkeling I find much more enjoyable. Fins, mask, snorkel and optional bathing suit are all you need. I’m kidding about the bathing suit. I would not want to encourage a melanoma on my unprotected bottom.

 

After reading this, you might think Tim was a bit of a baby. Not true. Following high school and college, he became a gold prospector in Columbia and has been in every nook and cranny of that country, including the parts controlled by rebels. After that experience, he became a pilot and is now vice president of a seaplane company in Seattle. I just wanted to set the record straight in case Tim ever read this. That time off Seal Rock Tim was just having a bad day. Me too.

Reviews

[Linear]

Well written, but alas to long for me to really review properly, sorry :o(

[emmajoy]

Wow, that's quite a read - and I read very slowly and carefully! Love the way this concentrates on the diving, how, where and when .. and the friendship between you and Tim. Some great descriptions of how scuba is .. another world, isnt it and something that lingers way after the dive.

However, do wish you'd shorten this or divide it into two halves plus, add some dialogue. Your writing truly deserves to be read but you have to lure in the readers .. once in, they'd love your experiences, truly.

Thanks lots for asking me to read this. Will read the other post asap

[Tate Morgan]

very well written story and those of us who pushed our limits in youth can relate to this very well.I too know these feelings they many times are the backbone from which I draw my wisdoms