My summer stays stacked with work and activities. If I don’t get that vacation in asap, it might not happen. Two days before school ended, I saw an opening on Texas Caribbean’s MV Fling. Before it could fill, I took the plunge and bought my 4-day, 3-night adventure aboard the 30-person live-aboard. Never mind that I hadn’t dived in over a decade, it’s like riding a bike, right?
Initially, excitement overwhelmed anxiety. The equipment wasn’t mine, but how hard was it to figure out a dive computer? The folks over at Diver’s Depot in Nacogdoches were fabulous, especially Sally whom I’d met through Pilates. They completely outfitted me up from head to toe in wetsuit, mask, snorkel, booties, fins, BC vest, regulator, computer, a large tote to haul it and even threw in my newest favorite tee: “The Beatings Will Continue Until Morale Improves” which seemed like the perfect motto for a teacher at the end of another school year.
Fortunately for me, I can sleep anywhere: planes, trains, automobiles, and boats. I brought Dramamine just in case but never needed it. On the same day school got out, I made my way to the dock in Freeport, TX, joining the passengers already gathered. At 7 pm, the crew came out, walked us through procedures and assigned us our bunks. If you sign up early, you can choose your bunk and bunkmates. If you’re the last one to sign up like me, you take what you get. I was assigned a bunk that was the height of my head, and my taller roommate had a bottom bunk, so we switched. I loved my cozy little space complete with a hanging net where I stashed my journal, paperback, iPad, iPhone, sunglasses, and hat. When I told the crew later how much I loved that feature, they were surprised at first, then, laughing, told me they put it in there just for me. Apparently, bunk 14 had the only hanging net!
The boat left the dock pretty quickly and we all gathered in the galley for a briefing. Introductions were made and those of us who did not have dive buddies teamed up with another buddy or two. My two cabin mates also needed buddies, so the three of us decided to stick together. My anxiety was slowly dissolving and I could hardly wait for the boat to rock me to sleep and wake up in the deep blue.
Six am came early with one of the crew pounding each door to announce the first dive brief of the trip. For each of the eleven dives, we would meet half an hour prior to go over the conditions of that particular location including temperature, water clarity, depth, current, plus whatever sights the divemaster had just discovered while scouting it.
Five dives were scheduled the first day: two on the east bank of the gardens, one rig dive (High Island 379B), then two on the west bank which would include a night dive. The first dive is great for getting comfortable with the gear, familiar with the setting, and making adjustments. I was a nervous wreck, choking back hard on my fear when I waddled up to the edge of the boat. One divemaster checked my tank; the other one checked out my gear, reminding me to palm my mask and regulator, focus on the horizon, jump then turn and tap my head to signal everything was okay. There was no way through the fear but straight through the middle. Once I jumped, gave the okay signal and made my way to the rope, I realized my heartbeat was racing so fast, I’d blow through my air if I didn’t calm down fast. Thankfully, my excellent buddies waited patiently, helped me inflate then deflate my bc, leading me down the rope to the bottom.
Unfortunately, I had developed some bad allergies making it very difficult to clear my ears. However, after that initial descent, I was reminded why I fell in love with diving in the first place. If you’ve ever enjoyed a silent walk in the woods, quietly observing the sights and sounds of nature, while companions amble quietly nearby, then you might understand the unique peace that can only be experienced when suspended among brightly covered fish and flora. The sense of bliss and beauty that lives far below is its own kind of heaven. Although I had to take a lot of decongestants and make extremely slow descents, floating amidst the angelfish, parrotfish, damselfish, butterfly fish, wrasse, blue tangs, moray eels, manta rays, stingrays, nurse sharks, and lots of barracuda, I had found that sweet peace that had been missing for so long.
Diving every dive is not a requirement. Since I was struggling with clearing my ears, I sat out the rig dive and both the night dives; the extended recovery time and extra sleep were much needed. Just like being in water anywhere, diving leads to deep sleep and ravenous hunger. Speaking of which, the food was incredible. The two women working in the ship’s galley prepared every meal fresh. After every single dive, there was hot food to eat. I normally wait until noon to eat, but after that first early morning dive, I sat down to a plate piled high with eggs, bacon, cheese, cilantro, onions, salsa, and a bowl of fruit. With 400 to 700 calories being burned per dive, eating too much was not going to be a problem.
In between dives, everyone either congregated in the galley to play cards, munch on the always available fruit and snacks, talk about dive trips and families, or opt to decompress in the warmth of the sun deck, or to just crash in the privacy of their cozy below-deck berths. Although the 100′ boat held 37 passengers, the space never felt crowded or claustrophobic.
Monday morning brought us to our last dive on Stetson Bank. I had met my goals and decided to sit this one out. However, my new dive friends pointed out the excellent diving conditions and encouraged me to go back for just one more. For me, it was the most perfect dive of the trip. Stetson Bank has far fewer places for fish to hide. The rays swim right below you. The eels weave in between you and your buddy. As I approached an underwater peak, I skirted around to the deep wall on the other side just in time to see a shark swoosh by. I looked up and saw beams of light shining from above, sparkles of water dancing overhead, and experienced an overwhelming sense of gratitude. For the entirety of that 34-minute dive reaching 84 feet, a sense of awe stayed with me. Climbing up the ladder of the boat, I pulled the mask off my head, and burst into tears. The writer Isak Denison once wrote “The cure for anything is salt water – tears, sweat or the sea.” Some thing had been healed. I was ready for summer.
dana bundy 