Underwater monsters

Bitten by a fish. Stung by jellies. Attacked by a bristle worm. Our underwater adventures took a decidedly dangerous turn this February as we returned to Thailand. And also an incredibly beautiful one.

Last week Josh and I lived aboard Wicked Diving's M/V Mariner based out of Khao Lak about an hour north of party town Phuket. Our dive time was split between the Surin Islands and Similan Islands, both top dive spots in Southeast Asia and new haunts for us. In the big blue ocean we spotted dozens of giant moray eels, plenty of octopus, school upon school of yellow and blue and silvery fishes, long skinny trumpetfish, and acres of colorful corals.

Josh also got into an altercation with a mean old Titan Triggerfish. Triggerfish are very territorial, especially when they have a nest of eggs. This is their nesting season and we got unlucky when I unknowingly floated over the nest, angering a two-foot long mama or papa triggerfish. A whooshing feeling on my leg was the first indication of something of gone awry. The next was a large eyed fish starring me down as it charged towards me. I turned and swam in the opposite direction, fortunately away from its nest. Josh, meanwhile, just looked on in awe as the triggerfish swam full speed in his direction. For some reason, Josh was convinced the fish would turn away at the last minute, a game of chicken of the sea I guess. But, alas, the triggerfish had other intentions and slammed into Josh's bicep, taking a bite out of his wetsuit and a leaving bloody teeth marks on his arm. I watched it all happen, too shocked to intervene. Happily, triggerfish bites are not poisonous. So while Josh lost a bit of his arm that day, we were able to continue the dive and just smear some neosporin on his arm when we returned to the boat.

Then they were the jellyfish on the surface. As we bobbed along awaiting retrieval by the boat after another dive, a current filled with jellyfish mangled in the boat's prop flowed towards me. I was getting stung repeatedly and it turns out so were other divers in group. By the time I climbed back on board, I had a series of bumps the size of a #2 pencil eraser all up and down my arms and legs. And that was the end of my shortie wetsuit dives. From then on out, I covered myself head to toe with neoprene and polypro and delighted in admiring the jellyfish without getting stung.

On our last night dive, Josh and I discovered a new type of sea worm, one that is drawn to the light, glows with iridescence and is covered in tiny spines like a cactus. As we swam along, holding hands and searching for the red reflective eyes of crabs, shrimp and lobsters in the dark, this evil little creature drifted down from the surface into our clutched hands. I was oblivious, cloaked in long sleeves, but Josh thought the weird sensation in his hand was my wedding ring drifting away. Sweet man that he is, he grabbed at it only to be stung by a hundred microscopic thorns which embedded themselves into the palm of his hand as the bristle worm attempted to flee its captor. In the scuffle the worm landed on the back of Josh's leg, which he then grabbed at resulting in more pricks to his hand. Eventually Josh got free of the two-inch tiny bugger and was able to dislodge most of the spines from his hand before we continued our dive. Later I spotted a second one drifting down from the surface. When it landed on a rock, it curled into a ball, then laid flat with its spines folded down. It reminded me of a porcupine or hedgehog, except underwater and not nearly so cute!

The highlight of our dive trip was seeing a manta ray at Koh Bon. Although we later learned it was small compared to some of the other mantas our dive master had previously seen, I was awestruck by its immensity. With wings spanning more than 12 feet, the manta glided through the waters back and forth, up and down, giving us quite the show! One of our fellow divers (Peter from Germany) took some incredible photos of the manta ray and is letting us share them here. Enjoy!

Massive manta ray surrounded by schooling fish. (Photo by Peter)

Mantas are so majestic. We were giddy with excitement to see one on our last dive! (Photo by Peter)

A Titan Triggerfish nibbling on the hard coral, rather than Josh's arm. (Photo by Peter)

Pretty coral and jagged clamshell.

So many fish!

Tomato clownfish among the obscenely shaped sea anemones.

Tiny fish on colorful lichen-like hard coral. I love the colors underwater!

Sea cucumber with its ruffly black feeler thingies (technical term, I swear!)

Josh showing off his bouyancy skills. Did I mention that he flew me like a kite when I was underweighted? At least one of us is good with bouyancy.

One of many creepy giant moray eels we saw. (Photo by Peter)

Believe it or not, there is an octopus in this picture. No matter how many I see, I am still amazed at the way they change colors and textures to blend in with the rocks.

Least you think we lived under the sea, here's a cool shot of our dive boat and home for 6 days. (Photo by Peter)

 

Scuba diving as couples therapy

Getting ready to take the plunge!

If you think it is hard to communicate with your partner on land, imagine what it's like underwater. Basic communication techniques such as speaking aloud are out. And what's left is a makeshift sign language consisting of a few predetermined signs (how much air do you have? Go up. Go down. I'm okay. I'm not great. Turtle. Shark. Boat.) and then a bunch of impromptu signs that both people may or may not be understood.

Me giving my patented all-is-swell "okay" sign in front of some lovely corals

It's those impromptu signs that indicate how well you, as a couple, communicate. Its part mind-reading, part knowing each other really well. For example, when I squeeze my fingers together and move them in a horizontal line, Josh knows that I'm pointing to a long skinny fish (one of my favorites). He nods with approval. When Josh moves his hand in a particular direction, I know he's mimicking a path he'd like us to take. When I give him the okay sign, he starts to swim in that direction.

The long skinny fish in question

Over the last dozen dives, we've done a good job of consistently using our individual sets of signs and re-learning each other's. All of this good work, though, goes out the window when we stumble on an unusual situation.

Earlier today I was having trouble with my ears mid-dive. (Normally my ears hurt at the start of the dive only.) Josh gave me the okay sign, to which I gave him the "I'm not great" sign and then pointed to my right ear. "Okay?" he signed back. "No," I shook my head, repeating the series of signs for my ear is not good. "Boat?" he asked. Hmmm. I didn't need to go back to the boat, I just needed to stay about 6 meters deep so my ear would stop freaking out. How to communicate that? Eventually I thought I got my message across, but it was hard to tell underwater.

Here fishy fishy!

A short time later during one of our many check-ins, I thought Josh said that his ear was hurting and he wanted to go to the boat. Well, "okay" I said, deferring to his discomfort over my desire to continue inspecting the coral and fish-gazing. On our way back to the boat, I asked about his air. He had plenty. I suggested taking a longer way back. "Okay," he responded. Apparently his ear had either worked itself out or we'd once again misunderstood each other underwater.

A Saddled Butterflyfish

The best thing about trying to communicate with a loved one underwater is that miscommunications are expected. There are no hurt feelings when one person misinterprets the other or just cannot figure out at all what the other is so excitedly pointing out. Like this conversation earlier today:

"Look at the awesome blue and black fish!" I try to say while pointing toward the fish
"What? I don't see anything of interest," Josh glances back at me with a confused look
"Look at the blue and black fish!!" I point with increasing animation
"I give up," Josh says with a shrug, turning away

In the land-based world, this interaction would have made me frustrated, and maybe Josh too. But underwater it's just another example of the difficulty of communicating through body language. We trust that the other person would love the blue and black fish if they had seen it and we know that the other person cares about us, even if they can't smile back. Spending time with my hubby underwater reminds me how much I trust him and how much we care about each other... even if he can't read my mind in the ocean or on land.

The happy couple under the sea

 

Diving with sharks

I am afraid of sharks. Let me repeat: I am afraid of sharks. Always have been. I grew up in Great White country and was raised with a very healthy dose of fear when it comes to sharing water with sharks. I remember reading stories in the newspaper of surfers who'd been attacked by Great Whites. And seeing photos of said surfers and their mangled bodies. I watched Jaws as an impressionable kid. I am afraid of sharks.

I saw my first shark while diving in Puerto Rico in 2008. It had been a while since my last dive and I was nervous. So nervous that I was holding hands with the dive master, a older fellow who lacked any real fear of sharks. As we came around a coral head, he spotted a 6-foot Norse Shark resting on an incline of coral. I didn't see it until he tightened his grip on my hand and started swimming towards it. When I spotted the shark, I freaked out. Imagine me flailing wildly, kicking my legs in all directions and trying to swim in reverse like a mad woman. Only thing is, the dive master had me by the hand with a strong grip and kept pulling me towards the shark. Eventually my wild flailing won out and I got loose from the dive master and swam to safety. In the meantime, my crazy display of fear had scared the shark off. Phew, I let out a heavy sigh of relief and allowed my heart rate return to normal. Needless to say, my fear of sharks had only grown. Now I was especially terrified of seeing sharks while scuba diving.

Fast forward to last night. I am aboard a dive boat in the Great Barrier Reef getting ready for my first night dive. Yes, as if diving wasn't unnerving enough, we were slated to dive at night with the aid of a flash light and a glow stick. Wonderful. I get all my gear on and head to the back of the boat. As I'm waiting in the queue to dive in, the dive master spots a 8-foot grey shark less than 15 feet off the boat, swimming near the surface. I spot it too and think to myself, "I'm not going diving with that thing!" And then the dive master says it's my turn to jump in.

I think for a minute and then I step...

off
the
boat

into the dark waters where there are sharks.

I try not to flail and attract the shark's attention. Instead I focus on getting my ears to clear, descending into the deep, dark ocean. I turn to face every direction in turn. No sharks to be seen. Although that's not saying much as I can only see about 10-20 feet in each direction. I take another deep breathe and leave my fear of sharks at the surface along with the bubbles from my exhale.