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Published: February 6th 2009
What can I possibly say about this place? There is definitely a heaven on earth and it is found here, without a doubt. The sirens song and clarity of water is truly irresistible, the sand tugs childhood fantasies of sandcastle building and burying a loved one instantly to the surface so much that you need to recognize and act on them. The breezes dance through the palm trees and drift over your skin to butterfly kiss your sun drenched cheeks. Here, your mind has the room it has yearned for, leaving the complexities of life somewhere in the banana tree groves you passed over on the flight to Caticlan. This is a place where your soul can forget about what is true, and live what has been only previously imagined. It can sip fresh mango margaritas while pulling up a bamboo chair, first row, center stage, to take in explosions of oranges radiating from a glorious sunset, wonderfully silhouetting sailboats and distant parasails, before it slowly slips just below the curve of the earth. Dare I say Boracay is all this and a bag of chips? I do…
And once you’ve taken the time to completely grasp those things, I’ll
tell you what we did with the five minutes we had leftover.
The one thing that was recommended we do there was go scuba diving. Some of the best diving in the world is in the Philippines and Boracay has something like thirty dive companies competing for business on this small island. I’ve never been scuba diving before, my past places of residence weren’t too accommodating for that hobby (Iowa, Alaska, Montana- not exactly the diving destinations you may think they are), and so I couldn’t resist the opportunity to try out my sea legs. Was Cass ready for some diving? I’m not exactly sure she was ready, but she certainly was willing, and that was good enough for us to sign on the dotted line.
We used a company called Calypso Dive Center, which turned out to be a little more expensive than we wanted, but looked far more established than the other dive companies, so we dismissed the higher price as the cost for peace of mind. Our guide, a Londoner, at first look resembled more a truck driver than a dive master, but was a laid back, comfortable person who was extremely helpful. He took
us into a classroom so we could ritualistically sign our lives away, putting no blame at all on anyone- you know the routine in adventure sports- and popped in a short film regarding equipment, different techniques we’d soon practice, and some of the most likely ways we would die during a dive. A real confidence booster.
I’ll have Cass share her experience…
From the time that we planned to head to the Philippines, I knew that scuba diving was something we would try. Being a pretty cautious person my whole life, the thought of scuba diving scared me quite a bit. I had no idea how it worked, but I knew there were some tricks to staying under there. After being on the beach several days I saw all kinds of people coming back from their scuba experience with smiles. I thought, “It can’t be that bad. I can do this.”
So off we set to Calypso Diving, our chosen guide service, where we met Andrew. We watched a twenty five minute video about the procedures, hand signals, and warnings. The longer I watched the more I internally panicked. We finally got into the pool and practiced the breathing maneuvers (so that our lungs didn’t expand and explode). We practiced the hand signals and breathing techniques. The key: never stop breathing!!! Of course that went right to my head as I looked at the contraption that goes into your mouth that allows you to continue the breathing process.
We headed out on the “big” boat where we traveled to the end of the island. To get off the boat we had to fall off backward. Once in the water, I took a few fresh breaths of air, said a prayer, and began journeying below the surface. Once under the water you must equalize your ears by pinching your nose and popping your ears. This proved very difficult to me and the lower we got, I was not sure that it was working properly as my ear we hurting a little. I signaled to Andrew that my ears were not right, tried again, and then decided that I would push forth, the pain wasn’t that bad.
The lower we got, all I could do was think about how I needed to keep breathing. On top of that, my mind kept reminding me to concentrate on keeping
my breathing apparatus. I know that panic would set in if I had to do anything more than just keep breathing and swimming where I was supposed to swim. I never left Andrews side. Wherever he went, there I was.
Suddenly, I realized that I didn’t know how to swallow or even if that was possible. My cheeks started to feel weak, what if this breathing device fell out of my mouth? Just keep breathing. Several times Andrew had to signal me to come lower.
After awhile I looked at some fish and realized, thankfully, that we were heading back in the direction of the boat.
I am not sure what happened, but things turned very dark brown and bubbly, keep breathing! This was it, this is how I go! When I collected myself, I found that I was at the top and I could see the boat.
I knew I had come up too soon and not in the proper way, but I didn’t care. I made it long enough to say I went scuba diving. Shortly after Andrew and Jon surfaced, stating that I indeed came up too quickly. We were down for 34
minutes. Yes. I will mark that down as a victory for me!
Now, I think there is something of an instinct for humans not to take in a big breathe of fresh air while underwater, and I had to fight the urges in me telling me to hold my breathe. Once I took that first gasp, it was actually quite comforted. I followed the sequential practice without a hitch, but this is when I noticed that Cass was a bit out of sorts.
It started on an exercise where we went down to our knees to practice breathing fully submerged. She gave the ‘ok’ sign, but looked like the section of pool she was in must have been filled with some sort of human paralyzing serum; for she didn’t move any muscle in her body other than the ones in those five fingers on her left hand, especially, her neck, probably moving less than a fraction of a millimeter to see anything other than what was in her immediate view.
Despite being on edge, everything was going great until we realized that all our practice didn’t prepare us for the one thing we had to do
first, get in the water. I’m sure this helped her already wavering nerves, but she sure wouldn’t let anyone onto that. Our, James Bond style, scuba back roll, water entry was going to be a bit more than we expected, probably ten feet or so. I was actually pretty psyched for it; it took me back to my cottage at Kelly Lake in northern Wisconsin and scuba rolling into the water with the wakeboard strapped to my feet (freshwater lake in the upper Midwest or tropical island paradise in the middle of the Pacific Ocean… hmm…).
The one convincing thing that illustrated Cass was just about at the end of this scuba diving idea, happened about halfway through the dive. I was coming back to her and Andy from looking at a puffer fish in the middle of what I called UNI fish (neon purple and the goldest color ever), when I saw her holding the respirator in her mouth. That can’t be good, because there is really no need to physically hold that in your mouth. She continued to hold that for the remainder of the dive… until we lost her.
After catching a glimpse of an
eel, Andy got my attention and told me to start heading up. I did a little swivel swim to see where Cass was, and I saw nothing but the blue depths of distance in all directions. For a split second I thought we lost her, then I wondered how, then where, and with that question, I realized there’s really only one direction she could or would go… up. When I popped up, I was greeted with a typical Cassie comment, “I was just going up and I didn’t know what to do, then I just popped up.”
Andy looked at me with a grin and said, “Well, we were about ready to go up anyways. Just a little bit short, then. You were under for over 34 minutes and we got down to eleven point eight meters. That’s a good first dive for you two.”
I agree. It was a good first dive for us two!
Now, I have to admit, I’m not terribly a beach guy. I love the ideas of beaches and even visiting them, but given the option, I would take my refuge in the comfort of mountains before battling it out
with the ever present grains of sand. My utopian vacations usually start with waist deep powder stashes through the gladed backcountry of the northern Rockies, or something to that effect. Beaches, after the paradise pictures in my mind fade, are quickly replaced by images of overweight, over hairy, over-sunburnt, over lathered people glistening from sweat as they waddle down up and down the sand. Well, take a few of those things away, I’ll let you decide which ones, and you had this guy…
I tolerate heat, bordering on enjoyment, but I wouldn’t say I prefer it when my skin sticks to itself because of the climate. This was reinforced to me the second I walked down the stairs of the plane and set foot on the tarmac of the Caticlan airport. I instantly became that guy you see at a bank with the ‘ring around the collar,’ the math teacher that you forever tell stories about who always had pit stains in his armpits when he pointed to an equation on the board. That was me; I was glistening from the get-go, lathered not by the SPF I was always applying, but by my overworked sweat glands.
This
poses a problem. You drink and drink, and you cannot put liquids into your body as fast as you are sweating them out. I think it was one of Einstein’s theory that figured out this is not a good process, and soon I found myself in a downward spiral. The headache started, then the stomach cramps, then the diarrhea. Diarrhea? You might ask? Yes, actually, screaming, Niagara Falls style of diarrhea. It is the worst symptom of what I have discovered to be a new condition … Sweat Stroke. Similar to heat stroke, but sprinkle in a little South East Asia stomach bug for good measure, and you got what I had.
It put me out for about two days. I was down for the count, aching and dehydrated, unwilling and unable to leave the room. I had to cut off own birthday dinner early, a wonderful plate of fresh prawns and lobster on the beach, so I could run bowlegged down the path to ensure I made it to the toilet on time. It sent me back to Montezuma’s Revenge on my brother James while were in Mexico on a family trip in junior high. My stomach’s sheering
knife pains kept me in bed, dabbling with the outside world just to return as fast as I could.
Cass found a clinic where the nice lady wanted to help. On her recommendation, I went in and saw a doctor. He wanted to admit me for six to eight hours to get rehydrated, but that wasn’t how I was going to spend my last full day in Boracay. I asked him if there were any pills to get me a bit more regular. I paid for the mystery pills and before you know it, I was corked up, eating sandwiches beachside again, and drinking the island out of Gatorade. It was a great memory of this wonderful place.
I would later find out from Reagan, a well seasoned traveler in his own right, that sweat stroke is something of a rite of passage, and he congratulated me on a job well done.
The next day we would pass the time before out plane’s departure, sitting in the sand, leaning on a palm tree, people watching.
This place was everything that it possibly could have been for us, even with a bout of the sweat stroke. The scenery
Wading home
The tide came in while we were at dinner one night... will be emblazoned on my memory for a good long time, the ‘Sir- Mom- Try masssaaage’ will never get old, the feelings of sand the consistency of wheat flour will be the standard at which all other beach sand is judged, taking in the sunsets with laid back musicians strumming guitars to the rhythms of the waves will never go away. I know I’m a mountain person, but this truly magical place is one that even the prettiest of peaks will be hard to overcome.
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liliram
liliram
Great pictures, great blog!
Sorry about the sweat stroke, but I think you and Cass enjoyed the rest of your holiday. Been to that island many times (yet never blogged about it) including one time we were stranded because of a storm. No boats coming or going out of the island. But we were happily stranded.....made the most of our time, enjoyed the sugar-fine sands, even the washed out sandcastles. Your blog is so full of excitement. All the details paint a very exciting island adventure. I'm glad you had a wonderful time.