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Adventures
in paradise ... 02/07/2002
Lewiston Tribune
Date: 02/07/2002
Section: Outdoors
Page: 1C
Word Count: 1473 word
Keywords: Travel; diving
Photo Caption: Friend Margrit
Von Braun of Moscow, ABOVE, joins Phil
Druker
for a dive in Bonaire's warm, clear water. Bonaire's beautiful
coast, LEFT, greets visitors to the southern Caribbean island.
An octopus, BELOW, creeps along the bottom of a pool. It's just
one of countless sea creatures that can be seen while diving or
snorkeling in the waters off Bonaire. Source:
Bonaire Travel Guide
Bonaire is a small island, covering 111 square miles. It is
located approximately 50 miles off of the coast of Venezuela.
Bonaire is the B of the "ABC Islands," with its sister
islands of the Dutch Caribbean, Aruba and Curacao.
Photo Credit: Phil
Druker
photos
Adventures in paradise
Bonaire is what divers
dream about
Phil
Druker
BONAIRE --
The yellow license plates read "Divers Paradise."
Temperatures are in the low 90s, the humidity about 80
percent.
Cactus covers the low hills, parrots chatter in the
trees and pink flamingos wade in the shallow lakes (and they
aren't made of plastic).
All this gives us reason to believe we aren't in
Idaho anymore.
The southern Caribbean island of Bonaire is 30
miles long and surrounded by coral reefs.
The reefs have been protected as a national park
since 1979 -- one of the first marine parks in the Caribbean.
Within the park, fishing is limited to traditional
methods, so the number of fish on the reef is astounding.
Just jumping into the 80-degree, clear water from
the pier in front of our little hotel brings us face to face
with vast numbers of tropical fish -- huge blue parrot fish,
small schools of yellow-and-black stripped sergeant major fish,
big yellow stripped angelfish, silvery barracuda, tiny yellow
and purple fairy basslets, and spectacular bright blue with
iridescent blue speckled jewel fish. Schools of blue chromis and
black durgons patrolled up and down the reef.
The list of fish species we see totals more than
100.
Moray eels -- some spotted, others mostly black --
hide in the corral with their heads sticking out of holes. Their
sharp-toothed mouths open and close as they breathe.
Octopuses glide along the bottom, their color
changing to match the color of the surface below them.
Where the reef forms a wall, plunging some 80 feet
or more, the water turns deep blue and a 6-foot tarpon lurks.
In 1999, the hurricane Lenny hit Bonaire, an island
that's usually too far south to be on the track of hurricanes.
The storm leveled much of the coral that grew in water less than
20 feet deep.
In some places the reef is still intact right up to
the shore. In other places we have to dive to get a good view of
the coral -- the fans, elkhorn corals and giant purple tube
sponges forming vibrant green, yellow, orange and purple
gardens.
One day I see a hawksbill sea turtle gliding
through the water, another day a little squid. We even see a
seahorse.
Sometimes we swim with vast, silvery schools of
scad. On the fringes lurk barracuda and yellow snappers.
One of the snappers shoots forward suddenly to make
a kill. One bite and a fish disappears.
One evening when the western horizon is completely
clear, the sunset treats us to the fabled green flash.
On clear evenings, when just a quarter of the sun
remains above the Caribbean horizon, the orange sun will flash
to green for just a second as it finally sets.
Then a small, wispy green plume, almost like green
smoke, flares over the horizon above the just-set sun.
I know this sounds a little strange, or like we
were drinking too much beer. But this phenomenon, caused by
atmospheric turbulence, is recorded in books on the weather.
Bonaire's coral reef is close to shore, so you
don't need a boat to get to most dive sites.
By renting a truck you can easily drive to almost
all the 40 dive sites the marine park has posted.
You don't have to worry about currents taking you
for a ride, and the water is clear and generally quite calm. All
this combines to make Bonaire live up to its license plate.
I'm not a great water person: over the years, I
have noticed that water is cool, wet and you can't breath in it.
But Bonaire's warm, clear water is so alluring I
find myself spending up to five hours a day in the water. And
when I am offered a chance to take scuba diving lessons to
become a certified diver, I can't pass it up.
My instructor is Al Catalfumo, owner of the Black
Durgon hotel. He's a New Jersey native and scuba diving master.
He's been leading trips to Bonaire since the 1970s and lived
there since the 1980s.
Through his careful instruction, I first learn the
fine points of snorkeling, and I also learn my skinny body is
incredibly buoyant -- so buoyant, in fact, that I can easily
wear 10 pounds of lead weight and still not sink.
As he teaches me to snorkel and dive, I find my
comfort level in the water increasing.
But before he lets me try the scuba gear, I spend
hours reading and learning about the dangers of diving.
As you descend, equalizing pressure so you don't
pop an eardrum is the main problem. Ascending presents even
greater dangers. First, you cannot hold your breath. If you do,
you run the risk of rupturing a lung.
At depth, the water pressure compresses air in your
lungs, but as you ascend the air expands. So if you hold your
breath while ascending, the air expands and blows up your lungs
as if they were balloons.
When scuba diving, you never want to hold your
breath.
And if that's not enough, you have to worry about
getting the bends from nitrogen building up in your body.
To avoid this, you need to ascend slowly to make
sure the nitrogen remains dissolved in your blood. If it
doesn't, the gas can form bubbles in your spine, your skull or
other parts of your body, causing severe pain or even death.
All this makes me wonder if scuba diving to see
some pretty fish and coral is worth the danger, but I press on.
After I convince Al I understand all the dangers by
taking various tests, he lets me assemble my scuba gear.
I attach the air tank to the regulator -- the
breathing apparatus -- and to my buoyancy compensator vest -- a
vest divers wear that's filled with air to regulate buoyancy
(it's a little like an inflatable life jacket).
When you want to stay at the surface, you add air
to the vest from your tank. When you want to sink, you let out
air.
Finally, I stand on the end of Al's pier, take a
deep breath through the regulator and jump feet-first into the
warm water.
Despite the 20 pounds of lead weight strapped to my
waist and the 50-pound air tank, the air in my vest brings me to
the surface.
Still, I am breathing hard though the regulator,
not sure the thing will work.
Al jumps in after me. Then we practice submerging.
Sinking down five, then 10, then 15 feet to the
bottom is an odd feeling: I keep breathing hard, not exactly
trusting the scuba gear to supply me with air.
But I soon find with practice, I can control the
amount of air in my vest and in my lungs, so I can hover in the
water with a feeling of weightlessness.
I'm feeling pretty comfortable until Al asks me to
take my mask off.
I'm afraid I'll breath though my nose and not
through the scuba regulator. But I'm able to do it and get
comfortable with taking my mask on and off.
Then Al asks me to take the regulator out of my
mouth, exhale (remember you can't hold your breath underwater
with scuba diving), and put the regulator back in my mouth.
Even though I'm thinking Al is trying to torture
me, I do it.
There is a reason behind all this: panic is a
diver's worst enemy.
I need to learn to remain calm no matter what, so I
can think about what I am doing. Fright can mean flight, and
underwater, flight to the surface -- if not controlled -- can be
dangerous.
Al and I make nine dives. Mostly we practice basic
scuba diving skills, and then we dive deeper and swim along the
reef.
The sound of my breathing is comforting, and the
idea I can breath underwater becomes less foreign.
The feeling of weightlessness is exhilarating. But
I have to be careful.
Sometimes I find myself steadily sinking. Other
times, I find myself rising dangerously fast.
Still other times, I drift over a steep coral
canyon and begin to fear falling until I remind myself I am
floating in water.
lll
After about an hour, I look at my air gauge and
realize my air is almost gone.
I signal to Al and we slowly ascend and swim back
to his pier. We wait underwater to give the nitrogen in our
systems time to dissolve.
Emerging to the surface and my normal world I feel
a harsh re-awakening: the surf pounds the beach and waves push
us around as we climb out of the water.
The smells of flowers, fish, exhaust and cooking
fill my head. The sun is hot. The breeze on my wet skin is cold.
I immediately begin wondering when I can go diving
again.
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