Scuba Diving Fool

I love to scuba dive.

I started diving in 1999 when the Ty-man gave me scuba lessons as a gift for Christmas, 1998. At that time, I loved caving (call it spelunking and I will cut you) and I decided I wanted to learn to cave dive.* In March, 1999, I dove 12 feet into Atlanta Scuba's pool and began my love affair with the underwater world. A year and two months later, I found myself 25 feet deep in the sludge known as Lake Lanier working on my scuba instructor certification. For six years, I certified more people than I can remember and had an amazing time doing it. I was underwater constantly, whether I was in the pool, the freshwater springs in Florida, the Atlantic, or the Caribbean.

As an instructor, you need to be able to commit numerous weekends every year to either work with students in the pool during confined water scuba classes or to travel with students for certification dives. Now that I'm a parent, I really don't have time for that. And so, my last, honest-to-goodness dive trip was a Turks & Caicos liveaboard in March, 2008.

I miss it. Terribly.

When our trip to Mexico was canceled, we luckily purchased trip insurance and got a refund. That's when Ty said Pick, hon. Mexico or Bonaire. I instantly picked Bonaire because it is my favorite island in the Caribbean. It's small, not crowded at all, and the diving is amazing. And after a six year absence from the island, we've returned.

On my birthday, we flew south to Bonaire and I hope, as I write this on Friday, February 5th, that today, Monday, February 8th, is a day I'm conquering the waves.



* I never received my cave diving certification. In November, 2000, I was diving on a wreck off Panama City Beach, Florida, using a semi-closed circuit re-breather. I nearly drowned. After that afternoon, when I was able to shoot straight up from that wreck to sweet air, I realized that if what happened to me in open water had happened to me in an underwater cave, I would have died. My caving and my diving will always stay separate.