Diving, a fun experience?

                            

It was meant to be a fun way for us to spend time together—a new recreational adventure beneath the waves.

The day started with one of the quirkiest tasks ever: getting into our wetsuits. I now have a profound empathy for sausages; the way we had to squish and squeeze ourselves into those skin-tight suits was something else. But once I was in, the sensation was unmatched—sleek, warm, and ready to glide effortlessly through the ocean. The wetsuit kept the biting chill at bay by hugging every curve, aided by a generous dusting of baby powder to prevent it from sticking. (A word of caution: if you ever need a bathroom break, escaping that suit isn’t a quick fix!)

With our bodies clad in a streamlined armour, we strapped on our diving tanks, secured weight belts loaded with lead blocks, donned our hoodies, goggles, and mouthpieces, and even put on our slippers and flippers. In that moment, it felt like I was transforming into an aquatic acrobat—ready for an exhilarating journey.

I soon discovered, however, that the adventure wasn’t confined solely to the water. We had to trudge over rocky terrain to reach the perfect diving spot. That meant removing the flippers for a bit, which in a snug wetsuit felt like an endurance test—imagine sweating in places you never knew could sweat, all while trudging in what seemed like a 40-degree sauna.

After navigating the rocks and finally reclaiming my flippers and foggy goggles, I reached “The Spot.” The transition from the scorching walk to the soothing cold water was instantaneous—the hot body cooling rapidly in that refreshing embrace. Before long, I realized I was losing contact with the ocean floor, weighed down by a few too many lead blocks.

I fitted the mouthpiece, ensured the oxygen flowed, and began to explore, my vision blurred by misted-up goggles. My experienced diving buddy, who had done this countless times, was waiting patiently for me to choose a direction.

All around, massive, dark strands of kelp swayed unpredictably, plunging me into a shadowy, almost surreal underwater forest. Panic flirted with my thoughts, but thankfully, I was securely tethered to my buddy—a true lifesaver and a comforting presence in the disoriented blue.

As he swam merrily ahead, pulling me along, I suddenly spotted a large fish barrelling towards us. My heart jumped—was it a shark? A character straight out of a surreal dream? My anxiety faded when I realized it was just a sardine, its size humorously magnified by my fogged-up goggles.

Soon, we emerged into an area free of dense kelp, where crystalline water unveiled a panoramic underwater spectacle. I was instantly reminded of those idyllic diving moments off Mauritius and Mozambique—snorkels, beautifully colored fish, and uninterrupted serenity.

Venturing further, we glided closer to rocky sandbanks where a massive, spider-like creature with twitching legs and looming claws came into view. "Hold this," my diving buddy warned, his tone equal parts caution and amusement, as if to say, “Are you nuts—you wouldn’t want to touch that!”

By then, I had had more than enough excitement for one day. The thought of returning to shore—a trek back through kelp, to our waiting Land Rover and a cup of hot coffee—seemed like a monumental task. All good adventures, of course, must come to an end.

I decided then that I wouldn’t volunteer for another dive just yet, taking on the role of the base station instead. It was much simpler, and I could enjoy snorkelling at my own leisurely pace. Until next time, I thought, already looking forward to my next underwater escapade.