Kelly and I caught a bug – a really strong one too. No, not the viral kind. We seem to be possessed by a dark closed-cell foam rubber force, fed by a 3,000 psi tank of air. Since achieving our “Open-Water” scuba certification we just can’t get enough here in the warm and clean Caribbean waters. As long as we don’t blow our budget on other vices – e.g. eating out often at fancy restaurants, staying at marinas, foo-foo alcoholic drinks, etc., then we can afford more dives.

Hence, today’s tale: One of those small free tourist maps showing local services for the sunny island of Culebra had two dive shops indicated. Google, FaceBook and Trip Advisor revealed more details. One shop had a very professional website with online booking. Unfortunately, their soonest opening for a two-tank dive was more than two weeks away! The second shop doesn’t have a website, and only an outdated Facebook page, and relatively sparse information. We weren’t sure they were still in business!

Upon first tying up Kory Kory and climbing up onto the high Town dock (a big step UP for Kelly!) our initial goal wasn’t to find food or beer (surprise), our minds were singularly-focused on finding the two dive shops. (I told you we are possessed!)

We found “A Dive Shop”, which appears directly attached (on the street level) to Culebra’s famous Dinghy Dock Restaurant. A dubious hand-written sign on the door states their business hours, and includes a number to call for reservations. I called the number, right there on the spot. Mildly disappointed at needing to leave a voice mail message, I briefly explained our “predicament”, and then took a quick camera photo…

Next stop… Culebra Divers, a ten minute walk away.

Hopeful the other shop might have more space for two desperate divers looking for a fix, we found their neatly decorated little shop across from the ferry terminal at the west end of the Dewey canal. A smiley greeting met us as we crossed the threshold (already adding points for this place), and we awed at the various colorful displays of modern masks, snorkels and assorted diving accessories.

We stated our “condition” of needing “a fix” to the cheery woman behind the counter. Glancing promisingly at her computer screen, she confirmed our own findings for their busy schedule. I pleaded that by visiting in-person, maybe our friendly appearance would somehow give us an “in”. “We sometimes have cancellations, and can put you on a waiting list,” she said. That’s kind enough.

I inquired about the other dive shop in town. Another guy then appeared in the back doorway, in wetsuit regalia. Apparently overhearing, he added that he saw their competitor’s dive-boat “out on the water” that morning, so he knows “they’re in still business”. But both seemed a bit reluctant to neither endorse nor offer any additional opinion.

If you don’t have something nice to say then say nothing.

Wise Man

Next, some lunch at a local coffee shop, serving delicious wraps and bottled spicy Kombucha. Many local shop facades seem to understate their quality of service, and we initially turned our noses up when passing this place on our way to the dive shop. All that about first impressions. Fortunately for them (and us) mere hunger proved our prejudice wrong! (Note for later: Leave glowing TripAdvisor review!)

We eventually received a phone call back from “the other dive shop”, and arranged for a dive outing. Our guide Joe* chatted with us a bit aboard Jane while his partner picked up two more divers at the ferry terminal. After getting more divers, and fuel, we motored slowly out an hour later through the narrow channel toward the island of Louis Peña. A somewhat blustery day, the choppy waters made the best dive spots difficult to approach.

* Names changed.

We anchored in about forty feet. (We aren’t sure because the depth sounder gauge was broken, and neither of our regulators had working depth gauges – so we discovered down at the bottom.)

Once in the water, we hand-over-hand pulled through the waves past to Jane’s anchor line used to guide us down. I noticed that my regulator and tank connection were slowly leaking, as I could hear the constant hissing and bubbling. Joe said “don’t worry about it”. Water turbidity reduced our visibility, so we could see the reef, but we couldn’t see much aquatic life. A strong current required constant swimming upstream.

Distracted with watching my pressure gauge frequently, we followed Joe closely as he began swimming away. He soon turned around when his regulator started to free-flow. (For non-divers, this is a bad thing. It means your air will very quickly run out.) Joe signaled us to stay near the anchor while he ascended. We tightly held against the pulling current for about ten minutes. Upon his return, we continued the dive, following him through the silty water.

Later, after a lunch of ham and cheese sandwiches aboard Jane, we moved south along the west coast of Culebra to a new spot for a “drift dive”. (non-divers: you jump off the boat, allow the current to drift you away, and hope the boat finds you later.) Things improved this time, with better visibility and more vibrant coral. Joe led us to an interesting old airplane wreck, wheels up. We meandered “downstream”. My regulator didn’t seem to leak – as much.

At the standard halfway point when my tank read 100 bar I signaled Joe. Kelly and the others were at nearly the same levels. We found interesting corals and fish. Joe, who seems oblivious us, speared a lion fish, an invasive species. (Local restaurants buy lion fish from divers to serve as a delicacy.) After another twenty minutes, I was down to 50 bar pressure, at which time we had been trained to begin our ascent. Joe apparently ignored me, or didn’t seem to care as much as searching for more lion fish. I noticed that one of the other women had started breathing from Joe’s secondary regulator. (Did she run out of air?) But they just kept going with the current instead of ascending!

At about 25 bar I signaled to Kelly that I’m going up. While we had no idea of our actual depth, I started to slowly ascend, nearing the surface as my gauge was almost showing empty. Our recent certification training had emphasized that this is really bad to do!

Fortunately, I still had enough pressure to fill my BCD (allowing me to float) at the choppy water’s surface. Joined by Kelly, we soon saw one of the other divers nearby. She asked us where the others were. A few minutes later Joe and his breathing partner rose. The dive boat was about a half mile away. Joe tried to whistle, but in the distance we didn’t see the boat move. There we were being swept away by wind and waves, out to sea. No flag or any signaling device. A nearby boater saw us and offered to help. Joe said no.

We just waited for awhile until we saw the boat slowly heading our direction. Afterwards aboard we learned that Anne was having trouble pulling up the anchor in the strong winds.

We eventually made it back, alive, and without “the bends”. Chalk this experience on the board to making better decisions next time. Go with only a highly reputable outfit. Choose diving hosts more carefully. Inspect equipment in advance. Don’t continue if something doesn’t look right. You might not get your deposit back, but you’ll still be alive!

Lessons:

Warning signs and no-no’s we should have paid more attention to: – both before and during dives:

• Open schedule, when competing shop booked for weeks.
• Competitive shop biting their figurative tongues at inquiry.
• Money paid 100% up front.
• Poorly maintained boat docked at poorly maintained wall. One of the two outboard engines and instruments were not working. The wooden deck was nearly disintegrated.
• While our guide Joe is highly experienced, he was obviously in poor health. He claimed to have recently had “a flu” and wasn’t “up to par”.
• Joe shrugged off our concerns about malfunctioning and non-functional gear – leaking regulator, dead gauges.
• We weren’t provided with a dive computer. No way to determine depth underwater! Joe said we wouldn’t be too deep nor need a “safety stop”.
• We didn’t follow our training, requiring ascent at 50 bar of remaining air, a quantity to ensure enough air for a conservative safety stop at approximately 15 feet.
• We had no surface-signaling device, not only for emergency, but to warn boats that divers are in the water. The person left aboard had further equipment issues, having difficulty pulling the anchor.

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Next dive: St. Thomas, US Virgin Islands. Another “learning“ experience.

BE SAFE!