A Travel Journal
After a 6-hour flight from snowy Boston, I land at the airport in Belize City, sweating like a pig in my turtleneck sweater. It is quite a change from the huge hubs in the US; a small building with brightly colored walls where small, old men are having fast food dishes on the benches. I get my boarding pass for the plane that will take me to Ambergris Caye.
Ambergris Caye is Belize's largest island, known for its scuba diving in the Barrier Reef with its famous 124 meter-deep Great Blue Hole. I have committed myself to a 7-day diving package at a five-star resort, where I will meet up with my daughter Aniko and my favorite niece Leah, both avid divers.
The plane finally arrives, about the size of a large car, I would say. The seats are made for midgets and they squeeze as many of us in as they can. Once the last passenger has wormed her way to the front into the co-pilot’s seat, the tiny wheels on this flying motorcycle start rattling and furiously turning as we gather speed.
Against all odds we are suddenly airborne. The view is magnificent; the ocean is blindingly blue. We fly over lagoons, large patches of algae and in about 20 minutes we approach San Pedro, the main town on the Cayes. Soon the wheels get slammed down with a loud clatter on the runway of a tiny airport, not much bigger than a backyard.
Mo, my guide, is waiting. We get into a taxi and drive a short distance through the dirt roads of San Pedro. I see faces with the sharp features of the descendants from Incas, Spanish faces, African looking faces and of course white faces of the mostly American tourists. I see my reflection in a window, a pinched and tired looking woman.
Then we are at the beach and we walk up the dock where a motorboat is waiting. After a long stretch of coastline, the boat drops me off at the Porto Fino resort, where a woman in a long dress welcomes me tells me that Aniko and Leah are already here, probably sleeping. She starts to rattle off all the things that I am supposed to know about day trips and boat schedules, but I am so tired I cannot take it all in.
We have to get up at 7 to go diving. I get up before the others, just so I can have my cup of coffee. And there is Craig, our dive operator. We go by motorboat to the next resort, where we get outfitted with wetsuits, fins and dive vests. I’m nervous. I don’t have any experience. My back hurts and I’m scared and cold. Shit, how did I get myself into this situation at my age? What possesses me to do this?
Luckily everything happens so fast. I don’t have time to think. About eight people are diving. Wet suits on, two in my case since I told Craig that I would soon turn blue if I didn't. Smear your mask with anti-fog cream, put on your weight belt and walk to the back of the boat, trying not to crash into things because of the choppy waves and the weight of the tank on your back.
My weights are pressing into my stomach as I bend over to put my fins on. Then a pair of hands puts my BC vest on. The tank is already attached with the hoses all in place. Good, I cannot imagine having to do all that myself. My blue fingers have lost all their sensation.
Ok. Got that on my back. Which one of these damn hoses goes into my mouth? I remember vaguely that the bright yellow one is the secondary regulator. Must be the other one then. Where is it? I grope behind me but cannot find it. Craig sticks it in my mouth, like a pacifier. He tightens my vest since I cannot find the Velcro flaps, which were folded under my tank.
He hoists me up on my feet and guides me from the bench to the ledge of the boat. I’m thinking, well, got no choice but to do this. Craig tells me to scoot my bum backwards until I feel the weight of my tank pull me backwards towards the water. I barely have time to remember to hold my mask and regulator and poof, I’m in the water. Lots of white bubbles and I bob up to the surface, make the ‘o.k.’ divers’ sign and start to kick towards the back of the boat where the diving shot line is, to guide us on our descent.
Then I let the air out of my BC and go down, slowly enough hopefully, to allow myself to equalize. I manage to reach the bottom, about 60 feet down, and follow Craig with the rest of the divers.
I am supposed to enjoy this, but my body temperature is not cooperating. I get so bloody cold. And I have to pee. Well, screw it; I’m just going to pee in my suit. Oooh, how nice… warmth flow throughout my wetsuit. I hope there will be enough time before we surface so that all the pee will have dissipated.
All in all, my first 'real' dive works out ok. We do our safety stop at 20 feet going up. The closer we get to the surface the choppier the water gets and then suddenly I am at the surface, in another world. From the stillness of the deep to being sloshed about by waves, the wind splashing water in my face, birds shrieking overhead and the sound of the motor.
Now the hard part: holding on to the ladder and not get slammed into the hull of the boat. I cannot get my fins off. The straps are stuck on my booties. Like a toddler who cannot tie its shoes, I stick out my right foot, then my left, so that the boat captain can pull them off. I feel like an idiot.
I’m trying to hold on to the ladder as I grope for the first rung with my feet. Thank God I still have my regulator in my mouth or I would be full of seawater. Second rung, third rung. The tank is now pressing down on my spine. I manage to step up onto the deck and flop down on the seat.
I am now a bright shade of blue. My world has been reduced to trying to keep enough body heat so I won’t pass out.
I try to look cool, but my shivering is uncontrollable. Leah has taken off her wetsuit and looks like a Vogue model in her tanned, scantily clad body. Aniko is getting us drinks, but before we know it we are told to suit up for the second dive. Putting on a cold, wet wetsuit is almost impossible, but with enough pulling and twisting I finally have it on. This time I ask Craig to hold up my tank and I suit up on the edge of the boat.
On the second dive, the colors of the coral, the abundance of fish, the blue of the water and the sound of my own breathing are truly unforgettable. It’s hard to breathe when you dive. I watch Leah a few yards ahead. She has her arms crossed and hardly moves at all, floating like a big black fish. I try to emulate her, but I have to hold my regulator so my teeth won’t fall out of my mouth because I clench them so much.
Before I know it, we go up and the dive is over and we head back to the dock. Every male on the boat surrounds Leah, as we are all getting tipsy on pinna coladas and the sun. Back at the dock, we all dash to the bathroom and then compete for the spots on the dock where the sun has warmed up the wood. Back at the resort, a nice warm, very long shower turns me back into a human being. I am proud of myself.
I always knew that exploring the world on a vertical axis would reveal a much stranger place than any you could find traveling ten thousand miles on the surface of the globe. I found a world where there is no sound, where everything happens in slow motion, a world so vast and so intimidating, so beautiful and alien that it might as well be on another planet. Down there, you are keenly aware of your limitations in the grander scheme of things. It is not meant for humans, one small misstep and you drown or you get the bends. It’s a risky affair but well worth it.
I will keep you informed of my next adventure on the vertical axis, when I muster up enough courage to go parachute jumping. That will be the closest thing to all those dreams of flying that many of us experience. But I better hurry up; soon I will need a walker just to get to the airport. leave comment here
