The first travel experience in which I almost had a backlog

The first travel experience in which I almost had a backlog

I like to see myself as a small adrenaline junkie, but when I put myself in water, all my bravery disperses. As a child I was not a good swimmer. Fourteen -day lessons for a year in primary school were not enough for me to find my fins. As an adult, I have improved slightly, but I never get lost from the shore.

Our trainer Paul met us the day before and explained the basics: How we compensate for the pressure in our ears, how we compensate for the air in our masks, how we get water out when it has reached our masks. He explained to us what to do when we have to vomit or even vomit. "Just vomit in the probe. It is designed for that."

"I will try not to do it," I joked, while butterflies danced. I explained that I had never dipped freely before and that my body couldn't get enough momentum. Paul told me that I would have weights to pull myself down. Not quite as calming as I was hoping.

The day came and we drove with The Full Boar, Paul's little white motor boat. We sailed for a while until we reached the place of the sunken SS Coolidge. Since the wreck was deeper than 12 meters, we would only snorkel in this area before we went to a different stain. I was already snorkeled and was therefore a little more confident, although Paul assured me that snorkeling was actually more difficult than diving.

mask in my hand, I went into the water and put the mask on. I declined hesitantly. "Just put your face into the water," said Paul from the boat. "I do when I'm ready," I replied emphatically and swam away from the boat so as not to embarrass me in front of him. After a while I put on the mask and let my head sink under water.

I could immediately feel water in my mask, so I shot back to take it off. This happened three or four times until I finally found my groove. This time I still kept the breath pipe over water to make sure it was not undera -immersed, and stayed under water for a few long minutes. I practiced regulating my breathing and staying calm.

"You only have to breathe and exhale slowly," said Paul, and so I breathed. In and out and try to stay calm. Half an hour later it was time to go to the dive site. I felt my stomach node.

When I saw other divers jumping back into the water, my eyes widened. "Don't worry," said Paul. "You don't have to do that. We put the equipment in the water on you." "Will it not be difficult?" "No, it will be in the water, so it will be weightless." At this point Peter patted my arm. "Just look at it like your backpack," he said. "My backpack weighs 13 kilograms." He paused. "You are right. I'm sorry. It's not calming at all, isn't it?"

I got into the water, strapped my equipment and then inserted my breathing hose (breathing controller) with encouragement. It felt strange and unnatural as if I couldn't get enough air. I tried to continue breathing, slowly in and out.

Then it was time for the competence tests that have to be completed before a beginner dive. The first was to dive under water with pull -out control regulators, then to locate it by holding my arm back in the right angle and then waving it over it. I dived under water with the breath and did it as soon as possible.

Then came the actual test: diving under water, removing your breathing controller for a few seconds, make sure that you don't drink water, and then put it back in. We dived and I took out my breathing controller. Panic caught me and I started to stutter. I shot over the surface and coughed the water out. For the first time in my life my nerves cooked. I looked my Paul in the eye and said: "I'm not sure if I want to do that."

and I was serious. How should I survive under water for 45 minutes? I could hardly open my eyes. Paul was surprisingly calm like a kind of Zen master. "If you don't want to stay there, we won't do it, but just try it. It's really not that difficult."

with a raging heart I paused undecided and finally nodded in agreement. We did the test again and I just passed it by putting the breathing controller into it at the moment after I took it out. After a few encouraging words, we dive into my hand in Paul. I concentrated on breathing, on and off, one and off, slow. Paul checked a few meters deeper if I was fine. I returned the okay sign, not quite sure if I was.

We followed a rope for a one or two meters and equalized. The pressure in my ears was strong, but controllable. At five meters we took a break to adapt to the pressure change. It gave me time to collect and realize that I breathed slightly and it was actually easier than snorkeling. Paul checked again if I was fine. This time when I signaled back, I think I said the truth. We went deeper, another five meters, a break and then finally to the bottom.

It was overwhelming, surreal, amazing - as if you were on another planet. Paul stayed nearby and made sure that I had it comfortably. Sometimes when I started swimming up and not checking my body, he reached up to pull myself down again, checked whether I got air and adapted my buoyancy. I reached my comfort zone and soon joked with Peter, who was nearby, but independent sponge.

We spent a while to examine corals, fish and wreckage - and yes, we actually found Nemo. After about half an hour it was time to get up again. When we broke through the surface, I cried out in a triumphant laugh.

"Amazing, is it?" Paul asked. I still hugged him with a laugh. "Thank you for not having me pinched."

He was right: it was not that difficult, but "difficult" is relative- I will remember that the next time I am trying to take the fear of height or flying. To overcome a fear, no matter how trivial, requires courage and I am glad that Paul had enough for me that day.

Back on the boat Peter turned to me with a crooked smile. "So - should we do our padi?" I took a deep breath and leaned back. I still think about my answer.

How to exist the Open Water Diver course

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