Swimmin' with the Fishes (Part 2)
Bubbles Up
It's ironic, isn't it? North Carolina is experiencing its most severe drought since 2007 - and here I am, engulfing myself in quantities of water my body has never even comprehended before. Part 1 of my scuba adventures covered the first two nights of my training, and tonight I take you to my greatest and final depths.
Another two nights came and went at our pool sessions last week. People have been asking me what it's like underwater: is it even possible to enjoy it when you're dealing with all of that equipment? I am but a novice, but the equipment has become a mere extension of my natural self. After all, if you too breathe air daily, you've been training your entire life to accommodate scuba equipment. The meat and potatoes of the course (or, perhaps, the fish and the coral) comes with simulating underwater crises and adapting to the environment enough to respond to them with a clear mind. These final training days were spent pretending our buddy had run out of air and performing emergency ascents. It's not as scary as it sounds; all divers are equipped with a secondary breathing apparatus for this exact scenario.
We in the business call this secondary breathing device an "octopus".
All that remained between me and my open water certification was the infamous "checkout dive". This final exam of sorts requires eighty minutes underwater and proof that you retained all the exercises demonstrated in the pool. Obviously, a simple pool isn't enough volume to consider "open water". Obviously not. You go to the quarry if you want open water.
I spent most of my past weekend taking in this sight and pondering how exactly we got here. The quarry lies beyond a locked gate. Drive beyond this gate, and you're greeted with an abandoned prison as if plucked from the mind of Stephen King himself: complete with barbed wire, overgrowth, rust, graffiti, a guard tower with shattered windows. With the quarry constructed directly behind this horrific infirmary, you have to wonder... who built this thing? You know... surely... right? Is that why the bones of a bus lay still under these waters? The mind spins tales in the absence of truth, which is often more boring than what our complex minds can conjure.
Anyway, this was my first time descending further than the nine foot deep end of the community pool. Open water certification grants you access to a whopping 60', which even still didn't hold a candle to the quarry's maximum 90' depth. Each day would consist of two dives with each occupying a 20 minute time slot. We were to settle in at 15' and perform our exercises, and if all went well there, we could finally swim around and explore.
My group had mixed reactions to escaping the confines of pool tile. Some were unable to maintain neutral buoyancy underwater and succumbed to the body's tendency to float at the surface. Some were suddenly seized up as their body (naturally) rejected the notion of being so far from free air. Most, and myself included, were thankfully accepted by the water and found peace within its depths. The exercises we had spent weeks on previously were mere minute routines at this point, and each subsequent dive brought us deeper into the world I had never explored until this point. I found myself disappointed at the ascent of each dive, wishing I could spend even a minute longer in this forbidden habitat. However, all good things come to an end - as did my checkout dives, the conclusion of which earned me the open water certification I had worked so hard for.
I will leave you with a fun memory from this whirlwind of a weekend. Kathryn's dad Jeff had accompanied me to each dive, and he had also recently learned that the quarry fish had an affinity for canned Cheez-whiz. Watching him spray this around the rabid school filled me not only with laughter, but a fondness knowing that I had many more decades of experiences like this to look forward to from now on.