Diving in St. Vincent and the Grenadines was incredible, and I was thankful that I had been talked into conquering one of my deepest fears in life. Bob and
Ann taught me how much fun diving could be, and I spent many hours exploring the region’s dive sites with them. It took a while, but the day came when I could dive with ease in a “shortie” wet suit without a weight belt, using just my breathing to descend.
I never went diving without a plan. Once I learned the dangers involved I always plotted my depth and time using the Navy Dive Tables. Today there are dive computers, they look like watches and can be strapped to a diver’s wrist. Back then a dive was planned the old-fashioned way, and I plotted accordingly. Once I knew which dive I would be taking I figured out the depth I would be descending to. The Dive Tables told me how long I could safely remain at a certain depth and I made sure I was ascending before my allotted time was up. Better safe than being crippled by the dreaded “bends”, a condition caused by staying down too deep for too long.
It’s hard to look back and say which dive location I loved the most as almost all of them were beautiful. Bob and Ann knew exactly where to go and I followed willingly, spending many hours during the off-season exploring the reefs with them. I think the drift dive at West Key was the most fun, the strong current pushed me along so I didn’t have to swim much, I just relaxed and enjoyed the scenery. It was a deep dive (90 feet) and therefore a fast one, ending when the current placed me on the opposite side of the Cay. I often found myself passing barracudas, their mouths open and teeth showing as their scales flashed with silver. Ship’s Stern offered the best Angel fish with the occasional seahorse making an appearance, always a special treat as they are difficult to spot.
One day the Yankee Clipper called Bob to tell him that a large number of passengers wanted to dive. Bob needed an extra guide, and called me at the Pizzeria to see if I could lend a hand. By then I had my own dive gear and ran home to get it, any excuse to dive instead of baking was fine by me! When I got to the dive shop I watched with growing amazement as the Yankee Clipper passengers added more and more weights to their belts. Bob winked at me and Ann shrugged, this adding of weights was something they were obviously used to.
As the dive boat headed towards Devil’s Table Bob asked me to point out the various fish and anemones to my group, and to guide them over the pretty reefs. Well, there was no guiding of my group OVER any reefs, with all those weights attached to their belts they dropped like stones and actually WALKED across the ocean floor. They kicked up so much sand it was hard to see anything at all and I got the giggles so badly I had to ascend until they stopped. They looked so funny! Bob later told me he always encouraged those he took diving to use fewer weights, but for some reason they wanted them and they were the ones paying for the dive.
The Clipper passengers headed for the Pizzeria after their dive, joining fellow passengers already feasting on lobster pizza. As I slipped my apron back on I listened to the chatter taking place in the restaurant with amusement; the divers were describing in detail the beauty of the ocean’s reefs and the different species of fish they had spotted on their dive at Devil’s Table. I knew they had seen next to nothing due to all the swirling sand their stroll across the ocean floor had created, but they were happy and that was the most important thing.