One of the reasons I gave in to Bob #2’s incessant attempts to teach me how to dive was because I wanted to have something in common with Mac. We didn’t do sporting activities such as sailing and windsurfing together, I had tried both a few times and was a complete failure. Another reason I gave in was because my friends Joanie and Missy would be taking the dive course, and if they could do it I figured I could too!
I took to diving like a duck to water and spent many hours enjoying the beauty of the underwater world. However, I did this with Bob and Ann; except for a conch dive including Bob and Ann I had never gone down with Mac. I knew it was time to be weaned from my teachers, but for some reason I found that hard to do. Mac and I both had scuba gear and we had a boat, what was holding me back??? Mac didn’t pressure me to dive with him, he didn’t seem to care one way or another, but I decided it was time to “take the plunge”.
Mac scoffed at me a bit when I said we needed to plan our dive. He told me I was overly cautious, that the Navy Dive Tables were purposely on the safe side and that I should relax a bit more. Well, I had seen enough crippled lobster divers on the Island to know that caution was not a bad thing. I had also experienced Nitrogen Narcosis while diving for conch, and it happened when I wasn’t diving with a buddy. If it hadn’t been for Bob Sachs I would have blissfully stayed on the bottom of the ocean floor. I was lucky he had come looking for me, even luckier that he found me in time. Therefore as far as I was concerned it was written in stone: abide by the Dive Tables and never dive alone!
Mac and I would be diving that day to a depth of ninety feet. According to the Dive Tables (which Mac scornfully referred to as my “Bible”) we would have 30 minutes before having to ascend to the surface. I knew that we could stay longer and take decompression stops, but holding onto the anchor rope while the clock ticked made me feel seasick. The dive would be half an hour and not a minute more!
Mac and I went to the site we had chosen -if memory serves it was near Moon-Hole – and over the side we went. It was a pretty dive, and I slowly swam over the reef admiring the underwater garden. I suddenly realized that I was all alone, Mac was nowhere to be seen. When you realize that you are diving alone you feel REALLY alone, and it started to feel spooky down there! Suddenly I spotted Mac, he had gone over a steep ledge and was way deeper than I, and I tried to gauge just how deep he was. The next time I spotted Mac he was above me, he had caught a fish and was taking it up to the boat. Back down he came, heading for the steep slope again. I spent so much time worrying about his erratic ups and downs that I didn’t enjoy my dive, not one bit.
I was back in the boat exactly 30 minutes after the start of the dive. Mac showed up quite a bit later, and by the time he heaved himself into the whaler I practically had smoke coming out of my ears! I lit into him about his dangerous dive habits, he had been up and down like a yo-yo and to me that just wasn’t safe. How could he keep track of his depth and time, so very important when diving?
Mac retaliated, saying that I was a boring diver with my strict plans, that he hadn’t stayed long at the deepest part and had returned to the surface with a fish at one point. We bickered all the way back to the Pizzeria, not a nice way to end what should have been a fun time together.
I never dove with Mac again. I couldn’t take his dangerous diving behavior and he found mine too boring. Perhaps I could learn how to play tennis!!??