The world spun as i tipped over. A split second of weightlessness blinked, the oxygen tank broke the water, and i felt the ocean wrap herself around my head as i plummeted down. My heart raced.
The weight against my flippers was strange and foreign. My movements unnatural. Awkward limbs flailed as i righted myself and searched for my friend. A few metres away Gene watched, effortless in the water. His hair waved above his head like grass in the wind, pale eyes magnified by his goggles, cheeks puffed around his oxygen mask while the occasional bubble barrelled to the surface. With a nod he flashed me the okay signal, waited for me to return it, then waved for me to follow.
It had been less than a week since i had received a random note from him after not hearing a word for close to a year. Deus ex machina. Perfect timing. Stranded on my friend's couch in Sydney, my tourist visa on the cusp of expiring, i needed to find a way out of Australia fast. More than that, i needed direction. Desperate for any avenue, i had been in the process of mapping harbours to visit, to see what winds the fates might use to propel my escape from the island when Gene's email arrived.
The message was short.
Hi J,
how r u ?
i left NZ and i am actually in New Caledonia
This is my programm for the next months : Vanuatu , Salomon , Papua , Indonesia , and Thailand ; so perhaps a cut by Australia
Are you interresed ?
the boat bis top now and all the gear for diving also
with my really friendly records
-Gene
Without bothering to respond i immediately looked at flights. Two days later i jumped a plane.
Our reunion was warm. Tanned and beaming, the weather had done the aging Frenchman well. With a sip of espresso he wasted no time before diving straight into his plan. We were to set sail across Oceania in three days, taking our time exploring as many reefs, and golf courses as we could. He unfolded weathered maps, and pointed out the islands and reefs we'd be stopping at. With a smile he lifted his drink and our porcelain mugs clinked in good cheer.
That evening we loaded supplies under a gorgeous sunset. The familiar salty breeze of the Pacific cast her spell on me all over again. i gripped the rail, overwhelmed with how lucky i was to be back aboard Gene's beautiful catamaran. Spacious, well kept, stocked with a vast library of jazz CDs, the craft could have been plucked from my imagination. The wind and ropes welcome and familiar. Not much had changed aboard since we'd sailed her around the Fijian islands down to New Zealand the previous year, save for a large air compressor tucked under the seat of his helm.
i'd always wanted to dive, but had long since written off the dream. Having traveled through much of Central and South America, i'd done a fair amount of snorkelling and was successful in convincing myself that i was fulfilled. Diving always seemed out of reach. While finances were a constant struggle, the biggest hurdle was my asthma. i'd been told by the divers i knew that i'd never be able to get certified because of my physical ailments. None of that mattered to Gene.
The Frenchman scoffed at what i told him of my lungs, and shrugged unbothered that i hadn't had a single lesson. Insisting nothing could be easier, assuring me i was in good hands, that he'd teach me everything i needed to know.
Gene and i sat around the table on deck, and he gave me the lowdown of the equipment. My entire education was less than fifteen minutes in broken English. He raced through the gear, pointing at dials on the tanks, buttons on our diving vests, and made exaggerated hand gestures. i got the jist, how to adjust the pack, raise and lower myself in the water, when to panic, when to not. He went over a few hand signals, thumbs up, thumbs up with violent jerking motions to go up, a frantic flailing for trouble, and the okay sign for everything was fine, how to read the oxygen tank gauge on my gear, but no depth reader. He only had one, attached to a big watch and said he'd keep track for us. And with that, we sped off in a zodiac to reef he had rough coordinates for.
i remember how gorgeous the weather was, and thinking, this is insane. i was a little bit scared, worried about the bends. Concerned that i hadn't been taught enough. My diving friends had done their courses over weeks in Thailand, Cambodia, Indonesia and the Honduran islands, spending hundreds, if not thousands of dollars working their way through their certifications. Proud of their open water dives, chuffed that they were ticketed to go under twenty meters. Here i was, with zero experience jumping straight in the middle of the Pacific. While the reckless adventure might save me a fortune, it could cost me everything.
Then came that big plunge, and the sound of the water breaking as i dropped through the threshold. The ocean wrapped me, rushing around my ears, while a comforting weighty pressure slowed my drop into the hush. It wasn't like falling. Or swimming, though similar of course. i was drifting, more than the elongated drop skydiving could emulate, this must be what flying is like. Slow, methodical. How birds must feel. Not racing like a bullet or a plane, but gentle, with grace. My breath regulated like rolls of water across the sand, loud, rhythmic, and outside of the occasional rocketing bubble its soothing chorus was all i could hear. My vision cleared, and i was elated.
Gene beckoned me towards the first reef. Its memory astounds me still. An astonishing new world. A lively metropolis. Long, complex, colourful neon towers reaching to what looked like the heavens, sunlight dancing across choppy ocean surface above, the light parading over the sand and the spires below. Waves rolled, and we bobbled, rocked as undisturbed as leaves in the breeze. i saw fish through a whole new lens, as if for the first time. Their movements curious. Colours stunning. The spectrum so different in the defused underwater light than on land. While i'd always enjoyed aquariums, i'd never appreciated them to the same extent. Each new species fascinated. i was a child. i was enthralled.
Yet, as washed in wonder as i was, caution rang. The danger never escaped me. i worried about my air. Played around with the weights, felt the pressure rise and lower in my vest, and popped my ears as tension built in my head. i eyed nurse sharks with suspicion as they lulled and watched Gene give me the okay sign, not to worry. He moved close to show how sweet the little monsters were, and comfort came quick.
Time evaporated. We flew, inspecting the cities below, swimming from one to another. Regardless of the absurd amount of countries, and cultures i've visited, i've never felt more like i was travelling then in that moment. To a world unknown to me before. Beyond what i'd ever experienced snorkelling, i was completely immersed.
From reef to reef we explored, careful not to touch anything, i followed Gene, trusting without doubt. With a playful gaze he came close to show me his depth meter. We'd descended to twenty-three meters. My heartbeat rose a little faster. This is an experience a lot of my friends and acquaintances spent weeks working their way towards. The kind of dive their schooling had cumulated to, and it was magnificent.
As if on cue two enormous sea turtles raced by us. Below, around, above, was a ballet of life. Eels, and other predators hovered around the edges and outskirts of the sanctuary. Despite being so other worldly, it all felt so similar. A living metaphor to lands i knew, a mirror below.
The hour moved like a dream. While my asthma had given me a lot of fear in my youth, it only served to my advantage in that space. i was able to stabilize my breath and conserve it. For years, i had learned to combat the strangling tension by calming myself when i couldn't breathe. Learned that the tiniest puff of air was sufficient to survive. More than enough not to panic.
At a certain point the water, the weight of my air tank, my flippers rhythm, and the sound of my breath normalized. All sensations disappeared, and i glided. The scene was so calm, breathtaking, and comfortable, it bordered on being hypnotic. The light continued its dance above, a fascinating display of life painted in an array of psychedelic colours shimmered and shimmied below, all while a friend led the way.
At a certain point Gene flagged me down, waved a finger counterclockwise, and we circled back to our dinghy. Our dials in the red, the tanks neared empty. Following his signals we raised in small increments as he kept time for a safe ascension. Slow, steady, and patient, we neared the top.
We broke the surface, back to the world i knew, the familiar sky, sun, and clouds. My friend chuckled softly as he recognized the awe drawn across my face, pulling at my smile. i'd crossed a transcendent frontier, seen new colours, my life forever changed.
Thanks for reading!
-Mr. Write