“Inhale, exhale, pinch your nose to
equalize and I will do everything else.” instructed Sean Robinson, “And don’t
forget to put one hand on the front of your mask and the other on the strap
behind your head. Now, on the count of three, roll back.” Right, got it. Be
still my panic-stricken heart.
So there I was – the world’s worst diver
– paired up one of the well-knowns of the international dive world. Sean
Robinson has done about 25,000 dives. Calculating that each dive averaged about
40 minutes, he has been under water for about two years, give or take a few
days. And me? Well, seven dives – and they were closer to about 25 minutes – so
being generous, I’ve been below the surface about three hours.
Sean naturally instilled confidence so I
figured as long as I was holding his hand things would be fine. “Inhale,
exhale, equalize.” Repeat. “Inhale, exhale, equalize.” We slowly
made our way down to the MN Maverick, a purpose-sunk ferry off the shore of
Tobago in the warm waters of the Caribbean Sea.
As we descended using the guide rope I glanced over to see Sean’s trickle of air bubbles. My stream, on the other hand, looked like a Champagne bottle that had been shaken before the cork was popped. Bubbles are a sure indication that separates the real divers from the newbies. If a tank would last Sean five or six hours, I would go through it in about an hour.
The sunken ferry formed a natural reef.
“Inhale, exhale, equalize” and look at the fish in all colours, shapes and
sizes. And they were everywhere; swimming around, and oblivious to a couple of
divers, they carried on doing whatever it is fish do. Coming from land-locked
Canada, as a kid I honestly thought tropical fish were somehow raised in
aquariums. The idea that they actually came from somewhere never occurred to my
four-year old imagination. Totally surrounded, I was a whale in a school of
semi-translucent blue fish about the size of my index fingernail. Amazing.
My grip on Sean’s hand loosened
considerably and I was starting to inhale and exhale easier. Even the bubbles
weren’t as fast or as furious. I was starting to sync with the underwater flora
and fauna. And the world underwater truly is an entity unto itself.
Then all of a sudden we were in the hull
of the ferry where the cars were parked and it changed to “inhale, exhale,
don’t panic.” I’m claustrophobic, but mentally calculated that I could likely
fit through one of the portals cut in the hull. Then again, if I couldn’t,
well, drowning was supposed to be a good way to go. “Inhale, exhale, calm
down.” Then as quickly as we’d ended up in the hull we were back in the open
water of the deck. “Inhale, exhale, massive sign of relief.”
Back on the dive boat, I learned more about the MV Maverick, the same size as the ferry I’d taken to Tobago. It stretched to 350 feet, had room for 900 passengers and 250 cars. I asked Sean why he hadn’t bothered to tell me it was 100 feet down. He shrugged his shoulders, “Because it would have scared you. And, really, 10 feet or 100 doesn’t make all that much difference when you’re under water.”
Waiting the 45 minutes until I could do
the next dive with Sledge, the dive master at the shop near the Magdalene
Grand, we solved a few problems of the world. Then I sat back and listened to
the lilting English of the island. The pitch is such that there is no space
between words and it all sorts of run together, rather like musical scales.
“Why,” I asked, “didn’t I do the shallow
dive first so I would been more confident to go to the wreck?” Sean shot me an
“only an open water diver could be that naïve” look and explained that with
that configuration the second dive to the ferry would have to be shortened to
fifteen minutes, which isn’t long enough to appreciate it. Dahhhhhh, I stood
corrected.
Rolling back for the second dive, the
coral reef experience with Sledge was a cake-walk. “Inhale, exhale, equalize”
was almost coming naturally by this time. And it seemed that the fish in the shallow
water were even more colourful than at the wreck. Sledge pointed to a greyish
shape in the water: a leather-back turtle, the first one I’d even seen up
close. Mesmerizing.
Back on the dive-boat, I learned Sean
lives and breathes diving. In the early 1960s he decided to spend six months at
a cabana in Tobago to get away from oil-rig diving for a while. Thinking he
might make a bit of beer-money he nailed a hand-painted “Dive Shop” sign to a
beach shack and stretched out in his hammock.
Without a business plan in sight, the
dive shop took off. Tobago offers some of the best diving in the world, so it
isn’t surprising that people wanted to get under the water. Sean – who had
learned to dive in California – trained local divers who then went on to set up
their own dive shops and the industry expanded.
Diving on the island needs to be
promoted so that more people can share the experience. And Sean has come
definite ideas on how to do that. So before the word gets out and the hoards
descend on this tropical dive spot, book your trip now so what you get a preview
of what everyone else is missing.
If you have a dive certificate, chances are you have to be a more competent diver than me, the world’s worst. But even if you dive in the same category, Sean and Sledge are very good about dealing with the hesitant and will ensure that you have a spectacular time. And they have suggestions for those who want more challenging dive experiences. Check it out at Tobago Dive Site Map.
Contract details:
Manta Lodge and Tobago Dive Experience
Toll Free: 1-866
486-2246 or in Florida: 954 453-5028
Email: reservations@mantalodge.com
Island Direct: (868) 660-5268
Email: info@mantalodge.com
Getting there:
Sport Diver has done the travel agent work for
you.
Tobago is a 20-minute commuter flight
and you don’t even leave the airport in Port-of-Spain, Trinidad. And the bit
extra effort you may have to put into getting to Tobago will pay big diving
rewards and make you the envy of your friends who thrive underwater.
By: Jody Hanson, Ph.D
Writer
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