Unbroken Connection (9 page)

MICHAEL’S DIVE LOG—VOLUME #10

D
IVE
B
UDDY
: Karen

D
ATE
: 10/26

D
IVE
#: 1,234

L
OCATION
: Mergui Archipelago, Myanmar

D
IVE
S
ITE
: High Rock

W
EATHER
C
ONDITION
: Sunny

W
ATER
C
ONDITION
: slight chop, strong current

D
EPTH
: 90’

V
ISIBILITY
: 50’

W
ATER
T
EMP
.: 80

B
OTTOM
T
IME
: 48 minutes

C
OMMENTS
:

Silversides. Thousands. Maybe millions. I descend into a school. They pulse in and out from the reef. Engulf me and my divers. I’ve got Karen, a single forty-ish lady, as my buddy and a couple of couples. Claude took all the jock-looking guys. Stuck me with the women. But his guys are crap divers and all these women are great. I saw that as they giant strided off the back of the boat.

Makes me laugh through my reg. That and the childish delight of running my fingers through tiny fish without ever touching a single, translucent body as they move in a silent symphony around us.

We’re following Claude. I don’t know my way around down here yet. His guys don’t make the descent clean and quick like my divers did. Kind of a mess, but he corrals them, and we get going. Nice wall, passing vis. My first dive in Burma—I mean, Myanmar.

We almost didn’t get here. Serious. Sunday when we welcomed our charter group aboard—dive club from Ohio—Captain Jean had bad news in his briefing. Nasty weather. Last blast of monsoon. The forecast predicted rains and pretty high seas for our passage north to Khawtang, a tiny fishing village that’s our entry point into Myanmar.

His announcement was met with groans and angry faces. These people had come a long way and dropped a bundle. Jean shrugged his shoulders and held up his hands. “Do not despair, mes amis.” His French accent gets thicker when he’s pitching crap. “We can make it. Me and my crew—the boat is very seaworthy, to be sure. But for you all—” he gestured to them and wrote concern on his brow, squinted his brown eyes sympathetically at the women. “Instead of a smooth passage with seas gently rocking you to sleep—you will have the seasick all night.”

One of the single guys stood up and put his hands on his waist. “I never get seasick.”

Jean kept his cool. “In these seas—that may not be true. I’ve issued medication for the whole crew. For you—a better plan. We will order a minibus to take you up to Rangon, Thailand. You sleep sound in a hotel tonight, and we’ll meet you in the morning.”

“How far is it?”

“Not bad. Three hours drive. You will have time for a delicious supper, and we know a clean hotel—cheap, too.”

The same guy answers. “You paying for that?”

“Ah, my friend. No. I am sorry. Extra costs and itinerary changes due to weather are outside the contract.”

“This is a scam. We paid to stay on this boat. I’m not paying twice. What about the gourmet celebration feast we’re supposed to get tonight?”

Captain Jean smiled at him and shrugged again. “We’ll savor that tomorrow.”

“I don’t think so. I’m going to savor it tonight.”

The guy led a mini revolt. They stayed on board, ate their celebration dinner, and spent the rest of the night tossed around in their cabins vomiting it back up. The whole boat smells like puke. Extra swabbing duty for the two deck hands. Poor guys. That jerk loudmouth owes them a big tip.

Claude and I stayed with his dad, Captain Jean, in the pilothouse through the night. Rains are a fact of life here. I’ve never even seen a raincoat. Umbrellas, sure, but not on a tossing dive boat. We’re soaked—but that wasn’t dangerous. The wind that whipped the sea up created the danger. It blew right through me all night. I even felt cold. Didn’t think that was possible in this steam bath.

The boat jerked and bounced. No steady up and down. We had to meet the waves head-on. Made it hard to make headway. I only lost it to Isadore once. I must be getting better.

At about 3 AM there was a loud crashing—metallic. Then more clanging and more. The scuba tanks on the dive deck had busted loose. Claude and I rushed to help the poor deck guys round them back up.

“Merd!” Claude yelled when a loose tank rolled into a tank he was just picking up. His fingers got crushed between them.

“Freak, Claude.” I yelled at him. “Ice that. We’ve got this.”

Claude rushed off to the galley, holding his bad hand with his good one—cursing loudly in French. He sent Cook to help, and we got the job done—no more injuries. I squashed a toe, but don’t remember doing it. Freaking hurts today.

Claude’s hand is black and blue. But we got to Rangon, cleared Thai customs, and then crossed the mouth of the Pakchan River to Kawthaung. No official waiting like he was supposed to be, so we wandered around the tiny village for a couple hours. Not much there except the market. It’s full of smiling Thais from across the river getting bargains. Any real money goes a long way here. I bought a woven thing to give Leesie. Kind of native looking. She’ll like it. There are mounds of dried shrimp and other dried sea stuff I didn’t recognize. Freak, it stunk, but not enough to make you puke like the reek of their fresh fish market. Indescribable. Made me want to pour disinfectant up my nose.

Beautiful morning. Sun, blue skies. Light breeze as we wound our way past one drop dread gorgeous rugged stony island green with rainforest after another. Took a few hours to get to our first dive sight. We aren’t allowed to go near any of the closer islands. Most of the passengers missed it. Sacked out catching up on zzzs. That single woman, Karen, joined Claude and me.

“How soon to High Rock?” She sat down at our table and handed each of us a fresh cup of coffee. “You boys will need this.”

I like being called a boy. Reminded me of my mom. Claude didn’t—but he’s too French not to charm any female, even this way past 40 woman with a weatherworn face and short dark hair that’s losing its battle with gray.

“One hour, madame. You will recognize High Rock. A single limestone pillar alone in the sea, crowned with a single lonely tree.”

“Limestone? Does that mean swim throughs?”

He smiled and sipped his coffee. “A warm up. This site. Merely a warm up.”

Now, as I drift through the swim-through he promised, the intensity of sea life astounds me. The reef is thick, teeming. Moray eels—all colors, all kinds—fight for space. Two to a hole. Never seen so many on a single dive. A couple of fat, fat, nurse sharks. At the far end of the swim-through, we emerge just below a school of juvie barracudas. Schooling barracuda! Giant jacks, silver and silent, hang above them. We finish the dive peering at an old fishing net, encrusted with coral. Yellow and black striped seahorses curl their tails around the encrusted ropes. We count ten before the current sweeps us on.

I survey the group of divers. Karen, floating in front of me the whole dive, is not bad. Cares about form like Mom did. Her skills are nowhere near what Mom’s were, but she’s got that same intrepid attitude. I think I’ll talk her into taking a Nitrox course. Diving Nitrox is supposed to be loads better for older women. That’s what Mom used to say. Gave her more energy for the next dive. Good stuff on a live aboard.

I grin to myself as I assess the rest of the bunch. My earlier prediction about the divers is dead on. Claude’s got the two worst divers. And I’ve got the two best. A couple. Early 30s. Totally in sync with each other, Zen with the water, drifting gracefully—Leesie would say, poetically, through the dive. Attuned and at one with each other and this paradise.

That’ll be us someday. Leesie and me. After a decade together—that’ll be us.

Chapter 12

TIME OUT

LEESIE HUNT / CHATSPOT LOG / 10/27 9:16 PM

MICHAEL’S DIVE LOG—VOLUME #10

D
IVE
B
UDDY
: Karen

D
ATE
: 10/28

D
IVE
#: 1,251

L
OCATION
: Mergui Archipelago, Myanmar

D
IVE
S
ITE
: Black Rock

W
EATHER
C
ONDITION
: Sunny

W
ATER
C
ONDITION
: current

D
EPTH
: 105’

V
ISIBILITY
: 80+

W
ATER
T
EMP
.: 78

B
OTTOM
T
IME
: 50 minutes

C
OMMENTS
:

Shark Cave yesterday. Black Rock today. This place is freaking amazing. Other world. It’s like we’re on a tropical planet, exploring a pristine island continent that’s ours alone. Quiet, peaceful, untouched. Virgin.

Topside it’s blue coves, bleached limestone cliffs, vivid rainforest, white sand beaches with no footprints. Monkeys calling to each other. One island is even supposed to have tigers.