“From birth, man carries the weight of gravity on his shoulders. He is bolted to the earth. But man has only to sink beneath the surface and he is set free."
- Jacques Cousteau
When I was young my parents bought me a Fisher-Price bathtub play set. Among other things it included a yellow submarine, a brass helmeted deep sea explorer, an octopus and a scuba diver. Both in and out of the bath I spent countless hours with these toys. My imagination taking me fathoms below the ocean's surface where I would search for treasure, encounter fearsome creatures, and discover the remnants of lost civilizations.
It would be nearly three decades later before I finally experienced the limitless pleasure of actual scuba diving. I was hesitant at first because I'm not a very strong swimmer. But with encouragement from friends, I slowly became convinced I could do it.
“To dive, you don't have to be able to swim, just sink,” one potential instructor laughed. She may have been joking, but in a way, she's right.
On the island of Utila in Honduras I overcame my fears and took a PADI Open Water Certification course. By the time the three day class was over I had become hopelessly addicted. Swept away by the romance of seeing an entirely new eco-system at work, observing the strange, colorful fish and coral. The effortless movement and freedom of weightlessness. These experiences drew me into, and under the ocean, over and over again.
Earlier this year Amanda earned her scuba certification on the island of Kho Tao in Thailand. Together we took an advanced class to work on our skills and further the depth and variety of sites we could explore. It was here that a young Swedish student we met suggested we should go to Malaysia and dive in Sipidan.
Sipidan is a tiny volcanic island that lies five degrees north of the equator, and 35km east of Malaysian Borneo. Made famous by the films of French under sea explorer Jacques Cousteau, the rich marine reserves off-shore contain some of the world's most spectacular diving. These waters are teeming with aquatic life. Turtles, shark, octopus, squid. It's not uncommon to see several, if not all of these creatures here within the space of an afternoon.
Rich but fragile, an environment such as this can easily be ruined. Many world class dive sites become poorer every year due to overuse. But in an effort to minimize the impact on the reefs here the Malaysian government allows only one hundred twenty people per day to dive within the park boundaries. If this sounds like a lot, it isn't. In fact, there's a waiting list to get in to Sipidan. Due to these limitations reservations need to be made days, if not weeks in advance depending upon the season. This kind of foreword thinking is necessary to keep the reefs intact, and has the extra added bonus of giving you plenty of space when you explore its depths. The benefits far outweigh the costs, and it's easily worth the effort and planning it takes to get there.
Rain pelted down around us as the small taxi boat sliced quickly through the choppy ocean waves. Twin 250 horsepower engines sputtered loudly behind us. The engines slowed, quieting, and the boat banked gently to the right. I stood up, squinting through the foggy front windows and got my first glimpse of our resort, Seaventures.
This would be our home for the next four days: a converted oil rig parked off the coast of Mabul Island just outside the boundaries of the reserve. The hulking mass of the platform had been painted in humorous swaths of bright yellow, orange, and baby blue. Like a life sized accessory to the play set of my youth, it was a toy I couldn't wait to play with. Stepping off the boat we boarded a freight elevator that ground it's way slowly up the side of the rig, and were received at the top with warm greetings and fresh squeezed orange juice.
Our dive master, Mondo, was a short, broad chested, Philipino immigrant with a thin mustache and a blinding white smile. For the duration of our stay he would be a nearly constant companion. During the days he would lead our undersea expeditions, and in the evenings he would entertain us with stories about his children, or perform acoustic renditions of songs by Scorpions, and Bon Jovi among others.
He took us on our first dive barely an hour after we'd reached the platform. An orientation dive directly underneath the resort so that he could asses our skills. We took the freight elevator all the way down until our calves were partway submerged in bathtub warm water. Then putting our regulators in our mouths we stepped off the elevator and directly began our descent.
I hadn't expected to see much right below the rig. It was after all, an artificial reef. Mostly made up of disposed cages and other industrial iron sculptures. But Mabul, the island only several hundred yards away is renowned for muck-diving. A term used to describe a type of diving centered around seeing small, often hard to spot creatures. As we swam lazily through the still waters that lay beneath our bedroom, many new things were revealed to me. Scorpionfish hid grumpily in the murky depths. Docile, but sometimes deadly- they are some of the most venomous creatures of the sea. They disguise themselves against dark leafy backdrops, perfectly suited to the artificial environment we were in. There were lionfish as well, gracefully swimming with their striped brown and white plumage. We saw clownfish, shrimp, and wide eyed moray eels. Humongous clams. Even a ghost pipefish, it's long, thin pipe cleaner body curling as it drifted away.
Our second dive revealed a large black and white striped sea snake. In my mind, snakes belong on the surface, so it was surreal to watch one slither it's way across the ocean floor, rustling up silt and sand. As it made it's way along below us, Mondo pointed at it, then clenched his hand into a fist repeatedly, an under water sign language indicating danger. Later I would learn that even the smallest of sea snakes contains a poison in it's fangs ten times as deadly as that of a cobra.
The next day we took a boat out to Sipidan to do three dives there. By the end of our first dive off the island, I'd already stopped counting the number of sea turtles I'd seen. Don't take that wrong. Repeated sightings in no way diminish how impressive these creatures are. It's just that you'll see an average of eight or ten during the course of a single dive. Some small, with smoother less distinct shells. Some larger, older and rougher looking. They were everywhere. Sleeping beneath coral outcroppings, or surfacing next to the boat as we prepared our equipment. Floating away, spread eagle with awkward, juvenile batfish scurrying along beneath their protective shade. Turtles are easily the most noble creature I've seen under water. One look at their faces and their tiny black eyes makes it obvious why so many cultures associate this creature with wisdom.
My most memorable sightings took place our third day, during our second dive at Barracuda Point. This site is thought by many to be the top dive site in the world, and though I'm not experienced enough to confirm this I can easily say it's the best site I've ever been to,
The dive began commonly enough, as common as any dive in this paradise ever could. Turtles were plentiful, as were tiggerfish, lionfish, and gaily colored coral. There were large sponges, beautiful leafy fans, and even some impressively large, but harmless reef sharks.
Part way through the dive, the current got stronger, pulling us down the length of the wall. I heard Mondo bang his tank and I turned my head to see him swimming up the shelf, against the current. Amanda and I struggled to follow him, eventually reaching up and over the crest. We were kicking hard just to stay in place, and I couldn't see why we were wasting our energy, but I wasn't about to be the first to drift away.
Then something shiny and silver crept into my view. I exhaled to adjust my buoyancy downward, and held on to a small edge of coral to stabilize myself. Looking over at Amanda I could see her eyes were wide with surprise. A school of large barracuda, stacked six feet tall, was swimming past us. Their beady eyes and awkward, grimacing jaws must have numbered into the hundreds if not the thousands. A great shimmering wall of silver life.
There were so many it took several minutes for them to pass, but my attention never lapsed. They made a small curve past us, then back towards before finally drifting away into the darkness of the open sea.
We let go, pulled along with the current and began little by little to make our way towards the surface. The light filtering through the waves increased and the hue of the coral seemed to swell and saturate. But we hadn't gone up yet and the day had one final surprise for us.
Suspended beneath a shaft of light were two small, purple and orange squid, their beards rustling, caught in the act of mating. The crayon box colors of the reef slipped away beneath me, and I stared mesmerized by the tiny dramas that played themselves out around me. Time slowed down, and I held this moment of fascination as long as I could, but eventually it was time for our inevitable final ascent.
As we surfaced I removed my mask, and smiled. I couldn't remember a time I felt more comfortable, or more alive. I looked over at Amanda.
“This is the one I'm going to remember.” I said.
She smiled and nodded, both of us a little high. I couldn't wait to go back down.
When I was young my parents bought me a Fisher-Price bathtub play set. Among other things it included a yellow submarine, a brass helmeted deep sea explorer, an octopus and a scuba diver. Both in and out of the bath I spent countless hours with these toys. My imagination taking me fathoms below the ocean's surface where I would search for treasure, encounter fearsome creatures, and discover the remnants of lost civilizations.
It would be nearly three decades later before I finally experienced the limitless pleasure of actual scuba diving. I was hesitant at first because I'm not a very strong swimmer. But with encouragement from friends, I slowly became convinced I could do it.
“To dive, you don't have to be able to swim, just sink,” one potential instructor laughed. She may have been joking, but in a way, she's right.
On the island of Utila in Honduras I overcame my fears and took a PADI Open Water Certification course. By the time the three day class was over I had become hopelessly addicted. Swept away by the romance of seeing an entirely new eco-system at work, observing the strange, colorful fish and coral. The effortless movement and freedom of weightlessness. These experiences drew me into, and under the ocean, over and over again.
Earlier this year Amanda earned her scuba certification on the island of Kho Tao in Thailand. Together we took an advanced class to work on our skills and further the depth and variety of sites we could explore. It was here that a young Swedish student we met suggested we should go to Malaysia and dive in Sipidan.
Sipidan is a tiny volcanic island that lies five degrees north of the equator, and 35km east of Malaysian Borneo. Made famous by the films of French under sea explorer Jacques Cousteau, the rich marine reserves off-shore contain some of the world's most spectacular diving. These waters are teeming with aquatic life. Turtles, shark, octopus, squid. It's not uncommon to see several, if not all of these creatures here within the space of an afternoon.
Rich but fragile, an environment such as this can easily be ruined. Many world class dive sites become poorer every year due to overuse. But in an effort to minimize the impact on the reefs here the Malaysian government allows only one hundred twenty people per day to dive within the park boundaries. If this sounds like a lot, it isn't. In fact, there's a waiting list to get in to Sipidan. Due to these limitations reservations need to be made days, if not weeks in advance depending upon the season. This kind of foreword thinking is necessary to keep the reefs intact, and has the extra added bonus of giving you plenty of space when you explore its depths. The benefits far outweigh the costs, and it's easily worth the effort and planning it takes to get there.
Rain pelted down around us as the small taxi boat sliced quickly through the choppy ocean waves. Twin 250 horsepower engines sputtered loudly behind us. The engines slowed, quieting, and the boat banked gently to the right. I stood up, squinting through the foggy front windows and got my first glimpse of our resort, Seaventures.
This would be our home for the next four days: a converted oil rig parked off the coast of Mabul Island just outside the boundaries of the reserve. The hulking mass of the platform had been painted in humorous swaths of bright yellow, orange, and baby blue. Like a life sized accessory to the play set of my youth, it was a toy I couldn't wait to play with. Stepping off the boat we boarded a freight elevator that ground it's way slowly up the side of the rig, and were received at the top with warm greetings and fresh squeezed orange juice.
Our dive master, Mondo, was a short, broad chested, Philipino immigrant with a thin mustache and a blinding white smile. For the duration of our stay he would be a nearly constant companion. During the days he would lead our undersea expeditions, and in the evenings he would entertain us with stories about his children, or perform acoustic renditions of songs by Scorpions, and Bon Jovi among others.
He took us on our first dive barely an hour after we'd reached the platform. An orientation dive directly underneath the resort so that he could asses our skills. We took the freight elevator all the way down until our calves were partway submerged in bathtub warm water. Then putting our regulators in our mouths we stepped off the elevator and directly began our descent.
I hadn't expected to see much right below the rig. It was after all, an artificial reef. Mostly made up of disposed cages and other industrial iron sculptures. But Mabul, the island only several hundred yards away is renowned for muck-diving. A term used to describe a type of diving centered around seeing small, often hard to spot creatures. As we swam lazily through the still waters that lay beneath our bedroom, many new things were revealed to me. Scorpionfish hid grumpily in the murky depths. Docile, but sometimes deadly- they are some of the most venomous creatures of the sea. They disguise themselves against dark leafy backdrops, perfectly suited to the artificial environment we were in. There were lionfish as well, gracefully swimming with their striped brown and white plumage. We saw clownfish, shrimp, and wide eyed moray eels. Humongous clams. Even a ghost pipefish, it's long, thin pipe cleaner body curling as it drifted away.
Our second dive revealed a large black and white striped sea snake. In my mind, snakes belong on the surface, so it was surreal to watch one slither it's way across the ocean floor, rustling up silt and sand. As it made it's way along below us, Mondo pointed at it, then clenched his hand into a fist repeatedly, an under water sign language indicating danger. Later I would learn that even the smallest of sea snakes contains a poison in it's fangs ten times as deadly as that of a cobra.
The next day we took a boat out to Sipidan to do three dives there. By the end of our first dive off the island, I'd already stopped counting the number of sea turtles I'd seen. Don't take that wrong. Repeated sightings in no way diminish how impressive these creatures are. It's just that you'll see an average of eight or ten during the course of a single dive. Some small, with smoother less distinct shells. Some larger, older and rougher looking. They were everywhere. Sleeping beneath coral outcroppings, or surfacing next to the boat as we prepared our equipment. Floating away, spread eagle with awkward, juvenile batfish scurrying along beneath their protective shade. Turtles are easily the most noble creature I've seen under water. One look at their faces and their tiny black eyes makes it obvious why so many cultures associate this creature with wisdom.
My most memorable sightings took place our third day, during our second dive at Barracuda Point. This site is thought by many to be the top dive site in the world, and though I'm not experienced enough to confirm this I can easily say it's the best site I've ever been to,
The dive began commonly enough, as common as any dive in this paradise ever could. Turtles were plentiful, as were tiggerfish, lionfish, and gaily colored coral. There were large sponges, beautiful leafy fans, and even some impressively large, but harmless reef sharks.
Part way through the dive, the current got stronger, pulling us down the length of the wall. I heard Mondo bang his tank and I turned my head to see him swimming up the shelf, against the current. Amanda and I struggled to follow him, eventually reaching up and over the crest. We were kicking hard just to stay in place, and I couldn't see why we were wasting our energy, but I wasn't about to be the first to drift away.
Then something shiny and silver crept into my view. I exhaled to adjust my buoyancy downward, and held on to a small edge of coral to stabilize myself. Looking over at Amanda I could see her eyes were wide with surprise. A school of large barracuda, stacked six feet tall, was swimming past us. Their beady eyes and awkward, grimacing jaws must have numbered into the hundreds if not the thousands. A great shimmering wall of silver life.
There were so many it took several minutes for them to pass, but my attention never lapsed. They made a small curve past us, then back towards before finally drifting away into the darkness of the open sea.
We let go, pulled along with the current and began little by little to make our way towards the surface. The light filtering through the waves increased and the hue of the coral seemed to swell and saturate. But we hadn't gone up yet and the day had one final surprise for us.
Suspended beneath a shaft of light were two small, purple and orange squid, their beards rustling, caught in the act of mating. The crayon box colors of the reef slipped away beneath me, and I stared mesmerized by the tiny dramas that played themselves out around me. Time slowed down, and I held this moment of fascination as long as I could, but eventually it was time for our inevitable final ascent.
As we surfaced I removed my mask, and smiled. I couldn't remember a time I felt more comfortable, or more alive. I looked over at Amanda.
“This is the one I'm going to remember.” I said.
She smiled and nodded, both of us a little high. I couldn't wait to go back down.
1 comment:
I miss you joe. Tell Amanda 'Hi' from Nicole. And always; beware the psychedelic meat.
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