Sea-Zure Disorder

This past February on our cruise, I went snorkeling in the Bahamas. Much to my surprise, it was quite easy and quite pleasant (aside from being very tiring trying to fight a fairly strong current). Now, for me to say that something involving swimming in the open ocean was pleasant is a pretty amazing thing. To say that I am uncomfortable in the water is like saying a fish is uncomfortable on land. I just never learned how to be comfortable with swimming, especially if the swimming is NOT in a pool.

So there I was, flapping around, sticking my masked face into the water and enjoying watching the sea life beneath me. I was relatively secure since I was wearing a flotation device and there were trained people nearby on and around the boat. I actually enjoyed myself.

Well, when I told my daughter Sara this, she said that Ray (her boyfriend) wanted to know if I wanted to try scuba diving, something that is a passion of his. I thought about it for a while and said that I’d give it a try. That March, for a nominal fee, I was able, along with Sara and Ray’s younger daughter, to sample scuba diving in a pool at the Norwalk YMCA. It seemed to be a good experiment so I said I was in.

So there I was, on a Thursday in early April, with Sara, Ray’s daughter and one other student, starting scuba lessons in the same pool. But first…we had to pass a few tests. I knew that we had to be able to swim 300 yards but the instructor had said we could use any stroke we wanted. I figured that was fine because, although I am a weak swimmer, I can go for a long time doing a modified backstroke. When the instructor gave us our directions, though, he said we were not to use the modified backstroke unless we absolutely had to. What? But you said….Crap!

So, I start off trying to relax and not tire myself by going too quickly doing the crawl. I can do that for a half lap, then the sidestroke. Yeah, well. By the middle of the second lap, there I am on my back desperately trying to relax and keep going. By the fifth lap (of six) there was no pretension about using anything but the backstroke. Somehow I managed to get through it…barely.

Next? 35-40 yards underwater on one breath. That wasn’t too bad, but by now my shoulders were aching.

The piece de resistance? Fifteen minutes of treading water. Now, I have treaded water before. In camp, as a kid, I made it all the way to swimming Advanced Beginner. Among the things you had to do was treading water for thirty seconds. So, it was with some trepidation that I approached the next fifteen minutes. I think I made it through three minutes and I was completely shot. My arms were so tired that there was no way I could continue and I came out of the water sure that I had made a very bad mistake in thinking scuba was something I could do.

By the time I had dried off and changed back into my clothes, my mind was made up. The instructor was very supportive (not). “I think I can get you through the program.” You THINK you can get me through? What a ringing endorsement and he would only let me continue if I got a written clearance from my physician. I walked out of there convinced that it was not worth it and I told him to forget it.

Sara, Ray, his daughter and Joy were all very upset. They all thought I should keep going and after a few days I agreed to keep with it. (Yes, my doctor approved without reservations. But, as they pointed out to me, the medical waiver was not a reflection of my health but was a reflection of the instructor covering his ass for liability. Freakin’ lawyers!)

So over the following two weeks, I managed to get along in the pool learning the basics of scuba diving. I got through those two weeks and had I listened to the inner voice, I would have said, “Okay, this has been an interesting experience. Thank you.”

Over the next few weeks, we planned a trip to Key Largo, Ray, Sara, his girls (the older of whom is an accomplished diver), Joy and me. Key Largo, Florida is the scuba capital of (they claim) the world. Ray has been there and knows the people with whom we would be doing our certification dives.

We all have these times where the sensible part of ourselves says, “Don’t do this” but we don’t listen. This was one of those times. I should have listened to the internal signals but I didn’t. I passed off my apprehension as being the same apprehension that I felt before every exam in school or check ride in the Air Force.

Now, aside from the apprehension over actually doing the open water dives, this was also the week that Tropical Storm Debby was getting itself together in the Gulf of Mexico. We were on the Atlantic side, but the winds from the storm were causing seas to run 4 to 6 feet. That doesn’t sound like much and, were we on an aircraft carrier, a cruise ship or a submarine, it would NOT have been much.

Nevertheless, there I was, in the dive shop getting fitted for the gear for the dive certification. I was desperately trying to remember everything I had learned in class. Eventually, we shoved off, the four of us plus two others, one of whom was there for his certification dives.

I have never been on a boat that size with seas of that size. I have been on boats in seas of that size, but the boats were larger and reacted far less to the pitch and yaw induced by the wave motion. I thought that I was just feeling nervous, but as events showed later, I was in the early stages of mal de mere.

After a twenty minute boat ride through those waves, we hove to. That was fun with the boat pitching up and down like a cork. I managed to get into my scuba gear and was foolish enough to be the second one into the water. One of the last things to do before going over the side is to give your buoyancy compensator three breaths so it is sufficiently inflated to keep you bobbing on the surface. I remembered to do that (and how proud of myself was I for remembering?).

So there I am, a human cork in a heaving ocean. Somehow, I managed to get myself over to the buoy line to wait for everyone. And wait. And wait. And wait. Well, that’s how it felt. By now, my stomach was beginning to feel queasy and the thought of upchucking into my breathing regulator occurred to me.

That was when the waves really started. Okay. Intellectually, I realize they were maximum 6 feet. But when you’re a human cork, bobbing on a line attached to a boat and they come crashing over you, well, suffice it to say I found myself an extra in “The Perfect Storm.”

About then, the thought came to me, “Can you honestly see yourself doing this and enjoying it?” And a moment later when I answered that question, “No,” I headed back to the boat and climbed out. That was it. I had tried scuba diving and found myself wanting. The truth is, in the YMCA pool, I was pushing the envelope of what I could tolerate. When the waves started coming and the reality of open water diving set in, I quickly crashed through that envelope. That was the thing that I had not listened to. So scuba diving was added to my bucket list of things I need never do in my life, although the list actually rhymes with “bucket” but has a different name.

Ever sit on a pitching boat already feeling queasy? I don’t recommend it. Queasy quickly turned into feed the fishies time. Let me tell you, seasick is MUCH worse than airsick. And there’s no getting away from that motion. None! We once went whale watching with friends and John was seasick for hours. He said that if he had a gun he would have put it to the captain’s head and said “Take us back to port, NOW!” I understand that now.

And then to add insult to injury, I realized that I had forgotten to take off my t-shirt before I put on the wetsuit. So, until we got back to the house where were staying, I had to sit in a wet t-shirt. Yuck!

Was I disappointed in myself? Yeah. I had to do the obligatory beating myself up for having, yet again, been a failure. Emotion trumped reason for a few days but the realization that I really, really didn’t want to try it again in calmer seas eventually led to acceptance than I had tried something that was just not for me. I was sure that I had put it in perspective when the title for this piece came to me. So, I now recognize that if I am going to be on the ocean, it’s damn well gonna be on a cruise ship!

And now they’ve talked me into trying white-water rafting. Hang on for a few months and we’ll see how that goes….