My first scuba diving experience - Great Barrier Reef (Hastings Reef)

One time you don't care about having sand in your shoe is when that shoe is a flipper and you're on the seabed of the Great Barrier Reef feeding a turtle.  I found this to be the case, at least.

Scuba diving is an unnatural activity so learning to do it takes one back to the elemental.  Simply learn to breathe again, and anyone can master it.  This way of thinking may require a system reset but it is simple enough for the most dim-witted among us to understand.  Ah dimwits, they are all around us.  My favourite term for such people has, for a long while now, been mouth-breather.  Because of the abundance of mouth-breathers in this world, the rules of scuba diving are simplified to just a few that are easily understood.  Chief amongst these is the principle that one must at all times continue to breathe, and one should breathe normally.  Easy.  I've been breathing since the Eighties, I've got this.  

Considering myself smarter than the average merman, I listened to the training then jumped in the water to try it out without apprehension.  I managed the practical training exercises easily enough.  I felt pretty confident pretty quickly.  Having had a taste of what sights the reef has in store, I was eager to view them from this new perspective as soon as possible.  I would certainly concentrate on my breathing, but I felt ready to look for tropical fish as I did so.  Down we went.  A shark swims by.  I wish I could smile, but instead decide to keep breathing.  My dive instructor, Lucy, held my hand as we swam and that shark must have smiled as he thought how much we looked like Peter Pan and Wendy in the night sky.

We swim to the reef and there are colourful fish everywhere.  There are sponges, coral, anemone, and it's all alive.  I am in another world.  Lucy and I had already discussed our mutual love for giant clams so we found some big ones and even reached out to them to prompt them to shut their traps.  They didn't close completely, but nevertheless I was interacting with a clam.  I wanted to scream puns about being as happy as one, but decided to breathe instead.

As we went on our way, we saw a vast array of underwater life.  Other highlights include seeing a clown fish, some stationary big fish guarding a boulder, brilliant purple coral, touching some seaweed, kneeling on the sandy seabed and oh, did I mention I fed a turtle?  I fed a turtle.  It kind of nibbled my finger as it took its seaweed.  We bonded.

The thing they don't tell you about breathing normally is that one does not normally do it.  While underwater, I wanted to sigh, gasp, laugh, talk and sing (Under the Sea), but decided to breathe instead.  That was a surprisingly difficult decision to make and required constant diligence.  I have a new respect for mouth-breathers.

My first snorkelling experience - Great Barrier Reef (Hastings Reef)

The boat ride out to the reef was bumpy and my stomach began to churn early on.  I have a history with motion sickness, but I was determined that it would not get the better of me.  After an hour of focusing on feeling well, breathing the sea air and watching the horizon we slowed to a gentle bob, at which point it was time to transfer to the larger boat that would house for the next couple of days.  Although I never came close to vomiting, I now feel far from normal.  Am I hungry?  Am I auditioning?  It is akin to both those things.  It is not nausea, but the jitters.  Perhaps it is related to the diving that awaits me.

Within minutes of stepping aboard the Reef Encounter, I find myself suited up and sitting down, one foot in the water. I am at the back of the boat wearing a snorkel and mask, getting splashed by surprisingly violent waves and trying to fit my second flipper before such a wave steals it.  The water is deep.  I plunge in.  

The first thing I notice is how buoyant my wetsuit is.  Floating is a cinch. That's a calming thought.  My next thought is that these flippers (also called fins) are a dreadful nuisance.  My legs do not know how to accommodate their new extensions.  I put my head underwater and keep it there.  Keep breathing.  Trust the snorkel.  My jaw clenches to give all incoming air a strong welcome, like the firm handshake of the breathing world.

I try swimming and find the flippers make far more sense when I'm horizontal.  But I am gasping for air.  I feel like Sandra Bullock in Gravity, and I hear George Clooney speak to me, "sip the air".  OK George.  But my breathing won't be calmed so I return to the boat to sit and by still and remove my snorkel/mask combo.  I take it off to breathe more freely but I am sure to focus my attention on cleaning out my goggles, a sure signal to anyone watching that yes I do know how to snorkel, just a little casual mask maintenance going on here.

I don't want to get to comfortable sitting on the back of the boat, so I soon launch off again.  It is an exercise of willpower to keep my head down and trust the snorkel for all my oxygen-related needs.  I do it, though.  I follow the anchor rope away from the boat and upon reaching the anchor, clearly visible, I realise the water here is not so deep after all.  Another comforting thought.  I continue to swim, listening to my breathing.  It sounds forceful but this is working so I decide to breathe as furiously as I like.  Sorry George.

I take a moment to glance back at the boat, and am impressed with how far I have travelled in a short time.  These flippers are all right.  The vertical me has still not figured them out, but I'm soon horizontal again and I like them a lot.  I swim yet further from the boat.  Gasp PTOO gasp PTOO gasp.  Then suddenly there's a wall in front of me.  It's just an arm's length away.  Or maybe it's a full body's reach.  I can't tell but I do know it is the most beautiful wall I have ever seen.  Under ordinary circumstances it might have taken my breath away - but as things were, my breathing immediately slowed.  A warmth washes over me.  Have I just peed in my wetsuit?  Relatively sure that's not it.  I'm calm now.  A school of small blue fish swim goes by.  They're close.  Fish!  Look at them!  I'm seeing what I came here to see!

My breathing is now relaxed, a bland variation on the theme of normal. As I approach the beautiful wall I notice more and more fish.  Small ones at first, then I look deeper and see bigger fish.  Near fish, small fish, far fish, big fish.  There are fish of every colour, as long as it's fluorescent.  And I'm away.  Swim, breathe, rest, watch, swim.

After exploring the reef for ten or fifteen minutes, a wave splashes down my snorkel.  Moments later, my mask fills with water.  I fix these problems without issue, but my flow has been broken.  I start to breathe hurriedly once again, so I take my snorkel off for a spell to recalibrate.  I resume my exploration, but gone is the serenity I had known moments before.  My stomach is churning.

I decide to head in then, while still on a high.  My flippers deliver me back in no time and I'm soon safe and dry.  Before long I'm watching the clock, eager to do it all again.