apologies for not having better photos. My phone was packed away for most of the shore activities and they don’t let you bring underwater cameras while practicing so you don’t drown. Probably a wise choice.

Scuba always seemed like something I’d get around to doing someday. Living in Colorado or New York City I had little reason to do so; the warm, fun ocean is so far away. So when we had two weeks in Perth, Australia during their summer - I figured what better time to get certified?

Over those three days there were about a dozen wow moments - some incredible, some extremely stressful. Descending under my own control down onto of a coral reef in shimmering blue waters with schools of fish around me, calming myself down for the first time in a pool with my brain telling me I’m about to drown, feeling the pull of the open ocean current while holding on to a line like a flag in the wind; it was an adventure through and through.

getting ready

An open water cert means being able to rent the gear to be able to dive down to 18m anywhere in the world. Sidenote: since I was in Australia I was taught in metric and it just makes so much more sense to me than imperial that I think I’m going to keep using it at least when it comes to diving.

Prior to getting in the water I spent about 6 hours on e-learning and then an hour or two listening to the instructors talk about everything. Perhaps my naviete; perhaps my impatience, but at this point I was thinking, wow this is taking a while. Can’t I just hop in a pool with a friend who can teach me and we can sort it out together instead of all this riffraff?

into the pool

We proceeded to suit up, assembling & disassembling our regulators / air supply / buoyancy equipment 5 times. At this point I was really thinking, let’s just get in already. I didn’t realize how heavy all this stuff was, and by this point I was close to overheating in the wetsuit. We gently got into the pool, floating. The instructor, Milan, told us to put our regulators in, masks on, and then we descended the few feet down into the pool, completely submerging ourselves.

Boy I did not expect the bubbles coming out of the regulator in front of my face. Or rather, I didn’t expect how much physical force they had; how intense having the feedback of my own inhalations and exhalations fed back to me visually and auditorily would be. I was successfully getting air in my lungs but my body couldn’t comprehend how that was happening. I kept bracing to cough up water or to feel the sensation of drowning … but it just didn’t come. To add to the disorientation, communication now became completely visual: just hand signals and visual context clues.

I was significantly psychologically uncomfortable those first few minutes. The part of my brain that avoided breathing underwater had a lot to say and it took several minutes to calm down and show myself that everything was working as intended.

The viscerality and intensity of the experience really helped it sink in why we were doing all this training mumbo jumbo: having your source of air threatened will make you do stupid things, and doing stupid things underwater is how you end up coughing up foam. Hence us starting out in a nice, safe, controlled environment.

wreck dive 1

Day 2, Rockingham Wreck Trail. I’m excited but a bit nervous - a well-lit pool is one thing. The bottom of the ocean floor is another. Our instructors warned us the visibility would be less than great - a lot of silt was being kicked up on the ocean floor; but it would be ok - just follow the rope course. So we floated out there with our gear and descended. And boy that visibility was indeed garbage. At best, it was 3m, at worse, 1m? That feeling of intense discomfort came back, but more intensely, since I’m now under 6m+ of water instead of in a pool.

We were down there for 37 minutes, and I gotta say I didn’t enjoy most of that dive. My brain kept oscillating between alright I got this, this is pretty neat, check the air, all good there, where’s my buddy, ok, all good there, let’s keep swimming but then I’d go to where’d my buddy go, am I going the right way, ah fuck which one is the instructor, oh no my glasses are fogging up and I can’t see, shit I’m breathing too much and I’m almost at 50 bar, fuck. And I’d say a fair bit more was spent in the second category.

Somewhere around minute 30 I thought to myself, I’m gonna finish this dive and then I think I’m good. Maybe diving isn’t for me. We ascend, pull out our regulators and my instructor laughs and says that is probably the worst diving any of you are ever going to willingly do: but you all did splendidly. I spent the next hour snacking on dried mango and mulling over my instructor’s assurances that my brain freaking out because I can’t see in a hostile environment is actually quite normal and expected. And to give it time.

wreck dive 2

So I mustered my gumption, got back in my gear and we swam out. I put some baby shampoo in my goggles. (If you’re like me putting shampoo in the mask that you’re going to have on your eyes sounds like a terrible idea but it’s a common tactic for reducing fogging). We went down and it was a night and day difference from the last dive: I was having fun! Part of this was my mask not fogging up. Part of it was more sunlight reaching the seafloor making it feel less like the bottom of a canal. And part of it was the knowledge that I had already been down there, and I had made it out just fine.

There wasn’t a ton to see down there, but the fish I did see were hilarious and awesome. I assumed they would scatter at the first bubble exiting my mouth but they didn’t really care. They were just floating around, doing their thing, and they get astonishingly close. Being weightless is an incredible experience as well. Moving my feet a bit and having the fins propel me through the water gently. Despite the relatively boring environment, things were starting to click and I was becoming more confident. I left that dive feeling completely opposite to two hours prior, excited for the next day’s adventure.

coral dive 1

The Blue Destiny took us to near Rottenest Island, about a 50 minute journey. ~40 divers all getting ready in a room at once, the boat rocking in the waves, the dive coordinator yelling out information about the depth and wind, our instructor reminding us about everything we’d learned all while keeping my balance tightening my weight belt was not the funnest way to get ready. But soon enough it was our turn to jump in, and in we went.

The current was intense, the waves a foot or so high, the line crowded with others, someone yelling on the boat, others replying off in the water. There was slightly too much going on for my brain to make sense of so I just scooted down along the line, floating along, breathing through my snorkel - you don’t want to waste scuba air while on the surface.

Then it was time to dive, and under the surface we went. Like a switch had been flipped, the chaos was gone, replaced by only the sound of my own breathing. It was peaceful & calm, and the objective was simple: get to the bottom. I figured out my buoyancy and gently floated down without holding on to the rope much, as we were instructed. My brain just kept going this is awesome.

In a minute or so the seafloor came into sight, another 4-5m below us. Fields of kelp gently swaying, structures of coral and sponges scattered about. It was like descending down onto an alien planet. About 3m above the floor, I let go of the rope completely and descended on my own power. A school of fish swam past me, doing their mesmerizing synchronized-unsynchronized thing. It was incredible and all the work felt like it was paying off, big time. The rest of that dive was learning a couple final skills, and looking around and enjoying the ocean floor.

the final dive

Back on the boat, I was feeling peachy and couldn’t wait to get back in the water. We ate some food (I kept it light because although puking into your regulator is quite fine and survivable, I really didn’t want to test that). We swapped our air tanks (I must confess I was the air hog of the group and consistently ran out first. I’m a big boy alright?) and did our checks for the next dive.

Given the trajectory of how the past few dives had gone, I was getting ready for my best dive yet. We repeat the organized chaos of getting out into the water, started our descent, and entered that calm place again.

About two minutes into the dive my mask fogs up. No problem. I pull it off my face to flush it, tilt my head up, and exhale through my nose to clear it of water. All good. Continue descending. Another minute goes by and it fogs up again. I stop, clear it again, re-orient to everyone else. Keep on descending and get to the bottom. Mask is fogging up again. Uh-oh I think.

The thing about clearing your mask is that it takes time, and you can’t really hold on to anything while you do it. Given the significant current and swell, having my eyes offline for 10+ seconds at a time means a lot can happen in terms of my position to everyone else. It’s not … great.

Over the next 10 minutes or so I learned a lot about my psychology. An annotated series of experiences:

• mask fogs up
• I get a bit more stressed
• am I in danger?
  • no. we practiced ascending 10m on one breath with our eyes closed so I’m not in any real danger
• I can’t see my buddy
  • is my buddy in danger?
  • I don’t know. probably not?
  • They could be in danger.
• Maybe I can see the instructor
  • Nope, can’t see the instructor
• there are jellyfish here. what if I’m about to swim into one??
• breathing rate goes up
  • oh no I’m going to use up all my air
  • It’s fine I can go to the surface
  • shit there’s a strong current and if I ascend here I’m gonna end up far away from the boat
  • ok but it’s probably fine?
  • man I kinda wish we all got safety sausages
  • BREATHE SLOWER
• clear my mask again
• it’s ok my buddy is right here
• we’re floating along in the current
• hurry along to catch up to rest of the group
• mask fogs up again
• I can’t see my buddy again
• the instructor is signaling something unfamiliar but I can barely see it
• clear mask
• wait was that even my buddy? everyone looks the same
  • I’m not being a good buddy am I
• oh shit it’s getting foggy again
• breathing intensifies

I gotta tell you. This was not a fun loop to be engaged in. The core part of this anxiety came from the buddy system and scuba diving at large relying heavily on your eyeballs: to see if you’re being asked if you’re ok, to see if the person next to you is out of air, to see a jelly fish I’m about to swim into the tentacles of. I wasn’t able to participate in that game whatsoever, which moved me firmly from being an asset in this dyad to being a liability.

I get the instructor’s attention and signal the problem gesture, and then the windshield wiper gesture (mask fogging up). We dink around for some time. He signals for me to slow my breathing. A lovely thought but not something I’m in full control of right at this moment, I’m gulping air. Understanding the problem, he grabs my arm and guides me along with the group, letting me let go of tracking of the group and focus on clearing my mask. I do so a few times. The situation was better but not sustainable. Luckily the rest of the group was asking great at this point.

We continue along this way for about 7 minutes and check in again. I wave the problem gesture again. At this point I’m kinda spent: I’m not having fun but I also don’t want to end the dive early for the rest of the group. So we swap masks. A ballsy move but man I respect it.

I clear my new mask and wow I can actually see! It wasn’t fogging up. I could see the rest of the group chilling like manatees and life was back to normal. I enjoyed the rest of that dive, though I did feel a bit bad as I saw Milan clearing his mask every couple minutes. Fortunately this seemed to throw him off less than it did me.

We enjoy the rest of the dive and ascend to the surface. He dances with a student during the safety stop, its quite adorable. We get out and I felt pretty disappointed in myself, like I had failed. Milan corrected my assumptions and explained that a) that mask fogging up was indeed awful but b) I didn’t panic, I was solving the problem despite a lot of discomfort. And I feel pretty good about that.

epilogue

I’m so glad I learned and I can’t wait to go back into the water. It’s shown up in my dreams a few times now and I think it’s my brain reckoning with the fact there’s this whole new world I get to explore now. If you’re on the fence about it, I highly recommend it! And if you happen to be in Perth, Milan at Perth Scuba was an amazing instructor.