Finally....scuba diving.

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Utila, 12 marzo 1990.
I finally managed to get James back on both his feet and sober enough to start thinking about our scuba diving plans.
We've spent the last couple of days out at the Blue Bayou beach with a minimum of snorkling and a maximum of drinking cold Salva Vida beer, smoking an endless number of joints skinned up, as usual by Nora - if in some far away future an archaeologist is gonna do some excavation on Utila he'll probably come to the conclusion that Utila was the heaven of the potheads - and talking complete bullshit.
We're now in a small boat - we is me and my travel partner James, Peter and Nora have decided to stay in the realm of the marihuana devotees on Blue Bayou beach - and have just done our second diving excursion. We're both over the top about it having gone to 35 feet depth, having caught a huge lobster which we plan to fry over a campfire tonight on the beach, beautiful coral and colorful fish all around us, a big marine turtle that swam behind us checking out what we were up to in his/her watery kingdom, a red/black striped sea snake swimming up to the surface for air....yes, we both agree this was worth our time and money.
A dutch bloke living on Utila and married to a local woman arranged it all for us.
Now, since this was all new to us, never having done any scuba diving in our lives, no diving certificate, nada and no experience...we were both a bit apprehensive about it all...understandably so I would say.
"Don't worry, the only thing you've to remember is to keep breathing", "my brother in law will bring you out there and help you our in case of an emergency".
That brother in law is now eep asleep in the boat, no doubt sleeping off his hang-over brought about by last night's little local party at the only bar in Utila's village.
We decided to keep our heads cool and not to go deeper as 35 feet....ah yeah, and keep breathing.

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