24 Little Hours

The birthday party on Sunday, notably the karaoke-fun, went on way after the kids were in bed. But I decided it was just another sign, stuck my ear plugs in, and went to sleep. I was excited at the prospect of diving the next day and I dreamt about buoyancy. It’s not only the signs, the metaphors are coming thick and fast too.

After breakfast, Marifi drove me over to the dive shop and Dino fitted me up with my diving kit. I love scuba gear. It’s just cool. And a wetsuit is definitely on my shopping list. Although I’d have to ditch something, or most things in fact, in order to squeeze it into my bag. So, all kitted-up, Nel and Dino, the dive-masters, and Kristina and Abi, two gorgeous girls from Spain, and me, all piled into the back of the van and headed to the beach where the dive boat was waiting for us.

Kristina and Abi have just spent 3 weeks in the Philippines, mostly in Cebu and the Visayas, and have loved every moment. And spent the whole of the drive to the beach telling me which islands I absolutely must visit. Dino was the font of all knowledge when it came to dive sites in the Visayas and all four advised that I could skip El Nido and Coron quite happily. But I mustn’t leave the Philippines altogether. It was going to be a good day. Sweet Monday.

We were on a tiny boat and dropped anchor to dive. And then would bob around where we surfaced, over the reef, waiting to be picked up. The water was warm and the sky was blue. Being back in the water and diving again was a tonic. Finding I remembered everything that Pod had taught me was reassuring and there wasn’t a single moment of apprehension or worry. And, of course, being under water helped me get back to breathing.

We explored two sites, The Crossing and Maris Rock, with bananas and cake in between. The visibility wasn’t great, only 6 metres at best. Because a typhoon, of all things, had whipped up the water in the preceding weeks and made things a little murky. But it was good enough for me. I saw what I’m convinced must be the biggest lionfish in the world, a scorpionfish, a frogfish, Pygmy seahorses, a hundred blue starfish and a trumpetfish. There were lots of sweet clownfish (Nemos), Moorish idols, and even a Titan Triggerfish scooted by to remind me of Koh Tao. Still no turtles or sharks.

Afterwards, Abi, Kristina and I went out for an almighty seafood lunch and got in all the chat that we hadn’t been able to under water. It had been so nice to dive just for fun. And with other new divers like myself. We laughed and we played, which is much harder to do under water, but certainly a good way to work on your buoyancy. I guess I’m a useless vegetarian because I got back to the guest house laughing about how happy I was having fish both outside and in.

Last night, I spent the evening with Google. I found a dive shop across the island in Port Barton and a couple of guest-houses that looked like they could be good. I sent some query-filled emails and then slept on it. This morning, over breakfast, I chatted with Marifi about my tentative plan. She called her friend in Port Barton who has reserved me a room on the beach next door to the dive school. Happily, she knows them all. So I’ve also arranged an all day, three-dive, boat trip with Aquaholics. And Marifi is thinking about joining me there once the diving is done. She has to see about the running of this place, but is going to let me know later.

Tomorrow, I’ll make that trip to the Subterranean River, which was voted one of the New7Wonders of Nature in 2011. And then on Thursday, I’ll take a van the 150km to Port Barton. But I’m not going to plan any further than that. I really do have a problem with staying put.

“It was a Thursday, and it was one of those days in Monterey when the air is washed and polished like a lens, so that you can see the houses in Santa Cruz twenty miles across the bay and you can see the redwood trees on a mountain above Watsonville. The stone point of Frémont’s Peak, clear the other side of Salinas, stands up nobly against the east. The sunshine had a goldy look and red geraniums burned the air around them. The delphiniums were like little openings in the sky.

There aren’t many days like that anyplace. People treasure them. Little kids are likely to give off tin-whistle screams for no reason, and businessmen find it necessary to take a drive to look at a piece of property. Old people sit looking off into the distance and remember inaccurately that the days of their youth were all like that. Horses roll in the green pastures on such a day and hens make a terrible sunny racket.

Thursday was that magic kind of day. Miss Winch, who took pride in her foul disposition before noon, said good morning to the postman.”

- John Steinbeck, Sweet Thursday