Growing up in Rabaul, PNG meant I had unlimited access to some of the most pristine ocean environments in the world.
I learnt to scuba dive at the age of 11. Warm tropical water with unbelievable visibility all year round meant we could dive any time. Pristine tropical islands with untouched reef networks were everywhere. Rabaul is also really volcanic so some beaches were black sand which meant tip toe racing to get your feet in the water. There were also a lot of WW2 wrecks and sites. Massive ships with tanks on board, planes you could sit in, and my favourite, Submarine Base. Called that because it was where the Japanese hid their subs in the war.
Climb through a small cave network to get into the ocean at one end of a big coral wall, then drift dive along the wall, finning out into the big blue or getting close enough for macro activity. No one has seen the bottom of the wall. We’ve tried. It’s too deep.
To say I was spoilt is probably understating it. It led to me becoming a dive instructor for a while, and always having a love for being under the ocean. Which I feel I’ve never done enough of. And I certainly was not going to let a wheelchair stop me!
“I swam freestyle, without kicking, for a while to get my strength up and feel invincible in the water again.”
Once I got up to about 2km a day I felt I was ready…did I mention I have a tendency to do things the hard way?
I hadn’t been in the ocean or on the beach since my accident so I was chafing at the bit. Late 2016 I did a refresher course in the pool, and eventually wore my instructor down to try an ocean dive. Of course I wanted to get straight on a boat and do a 30m plus dive, but eventually conceded that it might be a good idea to see how I fared in the ocean. We chose the Gold Coast Spit. Shore dive and not too deep. “There’s a few steps, will you be ok?” she asks. Of course I will be. I’ve climbed 3 or 4 before. I can do it again.
So late December we get to the Spit. There are 13 stairs. Up. And then another 13 down. Then a concrete slab before getting to the ocean. And it’s packed with people. Right. I’m committed now. “It’s ok. We can get some guys to carry you.” No way. I am not disabled. I’ll do this (refer to previous comment about the hard way). But I do. I climb up and down. It’s hard. But the ocean is calling. “You know you’ve really blown people away doing that”. Hadn’t noticed…I was a bit busy.
I get into the water, put my tank and fins on, and away we go! The plan is that Jacqui will descend a little before me, and I’ll hold onto her tank to float above as she kicks along. Great plan. We start the descent. My legs will not go down. Toes keep trying to break the surface. I throw my fins away. No change. I eventually manage to get to the descent line, and wrap my legs around it. Jacqui keeps unwrapping my legs, thinking there’s something wrong. Whoosh they go. We do this a few times before we’re laughing too much to stay under. I did see a fish. Just one. And I was very glad we weren’t on a boat dive.
February we organised to try the weighted leg theory with Byron Bay Dive. What an awesome day! Conditions were perfect, I managed to get the 5mm wetsuit by myself and off we went. 2 guys carried me from the bus to the beach where I stood with my toes in the sand while they got the boat ready. How beautiful is that feeling? Then they carried me onto the boat and we were off. Visibility was great, we saw so much, and I managed to maintain my air consumption really well despite swimming like an oversized seahorse. The weights around my ankles worked really well. It was days before I got the goofy grin off my face.
So I proved I can dive now, before my legs come back on line. Current diving with hammerheads in the Galapagos might still be a challenge but what a goal to work towards?? Being near, on and in the ocean has really motivated me to get my sense of smell back too.
NO LIMITS.
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