The Novice Diver Assistant
It was a perfect day, somewhere around 85 degrees, a typical Florida breeze around 20 knots and a few puffy clouds dotting the sky.
We left pretty much as planned from Inverness around 7:30 or so, drove 12 miles to the interstate, crossed under it and hit McDonalds for an Egg McMuffin and some much needed java . We got our order and gulped it down quickly, eager to hit the road and head toward Venice and the beach at the end of Alhambra Street.
Not too far down the road we turned off and the diver stated his need for a rest area as the Mexican food from the night before, combined with the coffee from McDonalds required the stop or eminent danger of a mistake could take place and ruin the trip.
After waiting a few minutes outside the convenience store/gas station he came into view at the cash register where he stood for what seemed like forever. Finally he appeared exiting the place with two bottles of water in one hand and a small bag in the other. “I forgot to bring batteries so had to pick up these at their higher than hell prices”. I knew what he meant.
He pushed the button, the alarm beeped from within the car and we were able to gain passage. I am glad he owns that car instead of me; the chirp-chirp was so loud three birds fell from the air when it went off diving for shelter!
On the road again, finally! Have you ever tried to write down directions from a website when you were I a hurry with full belief that you will remember all those hen scratches when you get to the place you think you want to be? Well, needless to say, after a few bad turns, going north when we should have been going south, re-entering Sarasota from the South when you should have been going south instead of North. I am sure you get the drift.
Our destination was a web-sited shark tooth riverbed located about 500 yards from the shore just on the other side of a shallow reef. Well, his destination was there. My destination was to get situated on the beach under a tent-like shade structure. This was a unique provider of shade with several alumni bars that neatly bent and folded to create a foundation for the canvas cover. To get to both destinations however we had to make three trips carrying the wet suit, two oxygen tanks, two cameras, one computer, the rack and wings (back pack for the I tanks), one folding chair and several other smaller items, from the car, through the sand, around a condomineum and to my destination. His was out there in that beautiful Gulf of Mexico.
He got suited up and with my awkward attempt to help him in that endeavor got him on his way. Of course I had to get wet too in my efforts to assist. “Remember now”, he said, “ I will start back in 45 minutes. I have about one hour or air and if you don’t see me by that time you can start to worry.”
Hell’s bells, I started worrying the minute he disappeared under the water with that little flag trailing along behind him. Well, I tried to start up his computer and could not get the thing to be light enough in the screen for me to read it so gave up and took up photography instead. Now using my camera was simple enough but I wasn’t sure I was getting the shots I wanted. The usual stuff, people walking along the beach, the young lady getting a sun tan not far away, birds flying by, boats in the water, the young lady getting a sun tan, the divers flag, the surf bouncing from place to place along the sandy beach and the young lady getting a sun tan……oh did I mention her already?
Finally I decided to use the diver’s camera. It was a bit more expensive that my little Minolta. One of the Canon body cameras with so many lens attachments I couldn’t keep track of them without a notepad that would be numbered for each use.
I could see his flag, the different buoys in the water, read the name of the Captain Morgan sea kayak and a lot of other things through his camera that I couldn’t see in mine. I thought about exchanging mine for his but figured he would catch me pretty quickly if I did.
Well, he didn’t come back in one hour. It was one hour and ten minutes by my watch. I was worried and tried to find the cell phone to call 911 but didn’t succeed in that endeavor. Probably for the best, since he came into view from the deep with his little diver’s flag trailing behind. I wiped the sweat from my brow, swore a bit under my breath but welcomed him back to shore.
He relaxed for about an hour after coming back to the shade of our sun protection enclosure. We chatted about his underwater excursion; he produced a little bag with about 20 shark teeth and then explained that although he didn’t see anything worth taking a picture of on this journey other than a squid’s condom filled with stuff he figured that he should take his camera on the second dive.
After much assembly of the camera case, we got the camera (that I had been using) inserted into it. It was a marvelous sealed plastic case that housed the camera and a couple of strobe lights for the underwater shots. It was the first time I had seen the apparatus and was quite impressed.
At long last we got him refitted with his rack and wings, one tank that weighed in at 37 pounds all by itself, a weight belt, this time with two extra pounds to keep him down at the 20 foot mark, the various hoses, the mask, his watch and wrist calculating computer that tells his where he has been just in case he might have forgotten and of course his camera its water proof case.
It was getting dangerously close to that one hours mark again and with the sun shining on the waves as they were you could not have seen his little diving flag out there is you tried, and I did. My nerves always get on edge when time is running short and what you have expected to happen has not. Being worried is what parents do. Even when your son is over the 50 mark and you know he knows better, you still worry.
Now as I once again strain my eyes and look out into the deep, I see a small flag. It is moving toward the shore, slowly but surely. Was my worry unwarranted? Of course it was, but what is a father for.
