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Sinking

By Stoo on April 17, 2012

Still a little shakey from the night before, myself and Mike finally begin our training as scuba divers.  We watch very borning videos that put the fear of god into us, before attempting to suit up and get into the water for the first time.  All the gear: no idea.

Now I’m stepping outside my comfort zone to do this.  It feels very unatural.  We are not designed to breathe underwater.  I’m not designed to breathe through my mouth.  32 years of instinct and I’m told that my nose is useless.  I get the idea, try my best, but still keep ending up with mouthfulls and nostrilfulls of salt water.  horrible, dirty salt water.  Who actually said this was fun?

I struggle with it for the rest of the day.  Sometimes it works, other times its an epic fail.  I can’t seem to adjust to the notion of just breathing from my mouth, and as a result I panic, let the water in, then choke and splutter to the surface.  Lord knows what I’m going to be like 30ft deep.

I’m done in by the time we hang up the gear for the day, and both Mike and myself decide we need a drink.  Perhaps we will fare better in the morning, but it doesn’t help when everyone else we meet bangs on about what we’re not doing right and what we should be doing.  There is an odd crowd on this island.  I shall refrain from going into detail lest I offend, suffice to say they are not my kind of people, and this isn’t my kind of “sport”.

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Posted in Honduras.
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