Panic Stations

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If it all went well, we were in for a long day indeed.

We still had two dives – deep water and underwater photography – to complete to get our Advanced Diving Certificates. We then had to be on a bus to Dalat by 1400. The boat usually arrived back at the dock in Nha Trang somewhere between 1230 and 1330 and there were still another five or six kilometres to get to the bus station. It was going to be tight but the reward of effectively gaining half a day was worth the risk.

Breakfast was bacon sandwiches from the hotel buffet and I used the time to answer the theory questions we needed to have completed prior to our two dives. The deep water dive had me worried – I’m far from a natural in the water and when you dive to anything over 18 metres a safety stop is required at 5 metres prior to surfacing. If anything went wrong you couldn’t just safely head to the surface. The theory basically outlined the many ways you can die or be badly injured.

We packed our backpacks, checked out of the Happy Light and walked to Sailing Club Divers. As per usual in the mornings the manager, Simon, was playing the Top Gear Vietnam Special and it was nice to put some of the places the lads visited into a wider context. We recognised some of the locations they visited and could visualise what was just out of frame. One of the things we recognised in frame was one of the instructors standing in the background of a shot at Sailing Club when Hammond is presented with his galleon.

We had 14 people on the dive boat – the most in the three days diving we had in Nha Trang and for the first time one couple was late to arrive. The bus to Dalat was looking unlikely from the start.

On the way out to the first dive spot, Small Wall, Hannah reiterated the ways we could die but approved of our theory answers. We kitted up and were ready to go in first. The boat was going to drop us off and head to another spot for the other divers and snorkellers to enter from. We were to swim back to it.

We went down to 22 metres straight away and as I hit the bottom I had a panic attack of sorts. One of the many issues with deep diving is Nitrogen Narcosis – a chemical imbalance that basically makes you drunk under water. I had enough presence of mind to ascertain this was not the problem as the voices in my head were telling me not to be such a wuss. I wanted to surface more than anything I’ve ever wanted to do before, my breathing was rushed and I was scared. I’ve raced rally cars and love paragliding but the thrill they give me was nothing compared to the fear I was feeling. After three or four minutes of kneeling on the sandy ocean floor, I gave myself a mental upper-cut and talked myself around. I was still scared but trying to breathe normally; I’d also talked myself out of surfacing.

We did a couple of exercises, one was cracking an egg. The white broke up but the yolk held together under the pressure. Jo and I played with them as they floated around whist Hannah took a video. The second exercise was to look at a colour chart that, on the surface, was the primary and secondary colours. At depth the red and orange had been replaced with healthy shit brown and unhealthy shit brown respectively.

We headed back towards the boat, mainly between 22 & 18 metres. I had sucked my 15 litre tank from 200psi to just over 100 in the space of about 15 minutes and when I relayed this info to Hannah, she led us closer to the surface – much to my delight. My air was clearly not going to last all the way back to the boat and I was more than relieved when we made it to five metres and received the signal to stay at that level for three minutes. We ended up 100 metres or so from the boat and I swam back slowly. Hannah wanted to show us the drop tank that the boat had put 5 metres under for us – emergency oxygen if required at the safety stop. I just wanted out of the water and asked Jo to take a photo.

It took me at least an hour to settle, in which time Jo went for a snorkel. I’d been there, done that and never want to do it again.

We had lunch while the boat repositioned to Moray Beach for our 7th and final dive of the three days with Sailing Club Divers in Nha Trang – Underwater Photography.

I was pleased that this was basically a fun dive at around 12 metres. Jo and I shared the camera between us and got some beauties I think.

We surfaced and waited, and waited, and waited for everyone else to get on board. Two snorkellers had forgotten they were meant to come back to the boat and were a few hundred metres away, still heading away from us.

Our captain pulled anchor and collected them but it was already 1230. We had the 1400 bus almost written off but stayed optimistic. To make matters worse the swell dictated that we took a round about and slow course back to the dock, we didn’t make land until 1330. We were not going to make it to the van – it would have left the tourist office already.

We made a call to skip the group bus and get a taxi. We said our goodbyes to Lucy and Hannah and grabbed the first taxi we could get.

The good news was that it was a proper, metered taxi with the rates on the dash. Our driver either understood the english word “Quick” or the frantic sign language that I was making and we took off in a cloud of tyre smoke.

We flew up the beachfront road, horn on full blast the entire journey and the 10 minute Divers Club Bus trip became a four minute taxi ride… our driver was a dead set legend. We raced inside and while I grabbed our backpacks, Jo had the bloke inside get all our paperwork out. We signed off our five dives and jumped in the cab. I signalled the required street and our man cut straight across four lanes of traffic to take us to the tourist agency.

Unfortunately we missed it the first time by but the driver asked a local who pointed him in the right directon… back down the street… in reverse.

The agent told our man where to go and he took off – horn in one hand, the rest of the steering wheel in the other.

We made it to the bus stop just as the last of the passengers luggage was being loaded. Jo arrange for ours to be loaded also while I paid D110,000 for the metered D94,000 fare, shaking the poor guys hand right off his wrist.

We were wet from sea spray, salty, tired but on board the right bus… we were going to get to Dalat.

Thus ends the second panic of the day.

We pulled into Dalat Bus Station at 1750 – over an hour earlier than planned and our transfer to the hotel that the tourist agency had told us would be there actually was. I would have bet 10 to 1 against on that.

Hotel du Parc was excellent. A doorman took our bags to our room and we settled in.

We headed into the bustling city market for an hour or so and got a feed from a mobile streetside cafe. The sweet and sour pork was particularly good and we were both enjoying the spicy squid until I told Jo that something slimy had come out of the big bit she’d left for me that I thought may have been the head. She declined offers for more squid so I tucked in to the rest of the plate.

We returned to Hotel du Parc at 2030 and went to sleep immediately.

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