The Bolt

Dale had somehow found his way onto the Campus Recreation site at the U of S, and he saw that they were offering an "introduction to scuba" class for a mere $20, and it actually included some time under water. We were both quite surprised, thinking that at $20 there was no way we could go wrong: even if we found out we didn't like it, at least it was only a $20 lesson to learn. I'm still not sure if they're making any money on that class - I can't see how, assuming that the instructor was actually paid.

I agreed to head over to the Campus Rec office with Dale in order to find out more information. When we got there, we were informed that there were only three seats left in the class. So we made up our minds on the spot and signed up for the class.

Two weeks later, the day of the scuba class arrived, and I headed over to the swimming pool. I wasn't surprised to learn that we first had to sit in a classroom and watch a video, followed up by some good discussion with the diving instructor. (I still don't think that there is ever any need to talk about how you would only be eaten by sharks if they decided to hunt "as a pack", and that you're normally very safe from them. No need at all!) And of course, we had to sign some waiver of liability forms, the ones that say that there are risks involved and if I die then nobody can sue the university. Yep, it's all good.

After the classroom portion, we headed over to a pile of equipment. As luck would have it, the bright pink face masks were the best fitting ones for Dale and I, which gave the instructor some moment of laughter. But I had to chuckle to myself when he went up to the overweight person beside me and say, "sir, due to your body composition, you're going to have to wear this weight belt." That's a really politically correct way of saying that fat people float, isn't it.

Then we ran though some drills that showed us the basic comfort and survival skills we needed. We learned the hand signs to use for "my ear is in horrible pain, I can't go down any further" (waggle your hand and point to your ear) and the ever-popular "I'm about to die due to lack of air, can I have some of yours?" (put your hand flat, palm down, and make a throat-slitting motion). We also learned how to clear the water out of our masks (but the pink one fit so well, I hoped I wouldn't be taking in any water) and then finally how to recover from losing our air regulator (who would ever let the air reg out of their mouth while under water?!?)

Then, we were cut loose. That's it - dive, be free! Swim like the fish! Well, not quite. The shallow end was OK (about five feet of water), but going to the deep end (fifteen feet) resulted in my ears popping and hurting. Ouch. Time to surface.

As I came up and inflated my BCD (they call it a buoyancy control device, but it's basically water wings for adults) I saw a few other people at the surface, Dale being one. We both commiserated about our ear problems, and then went under again. After a few more trips up and down, I finally got the hang of "balancing" my ears so they didn't hurt so much. I can't even imagine getting down to 50 feet, though, I think my ear drums would rupture.

Truthfully, after ten minutes, the novelty of the experience was starting to wear off, simply because we were all alone in a large tank of water. No fish, no manta rays, no coral reefs - just other novice divers, flailing around under water. But that's not to say it was boring - it was just becoming "natural". And that's the interesting part; here I was, poking around the bottom of a swimming pool in full scuba gear, and it was becoming normal quite quickly. It reminded me of wall climbing, which was so exciting the first time up a wall, but then became less of a wonder and more of a personal challenge as I moved to harder and harder walls.

I walked away from that class not with some unnatural desire to become the world's next best deep sea diver or underwater welder, but with more of a curiosity of what was under the water that I had been missing up until now. Are there neat things to see, hidden deep under the surface of all of the lakes that I've been swimming in since childhood? (I know there are a few rusted fishing poles down there, having dropped a few myself over the years) I wonder what the walleye in Anglin Lake look like when viewed from under water? Are there any sunken boats (or cars!) in La Ronge? I have a hunch that Emma lake has at least one sea-doo at its bottom.

Finally, I'm thankful that my friends and co-workers care enough to invite me out to try new experiences. It was less than two years ago when Ken phoned me up out of the blue and asked, "do you want to start curling?" Some times, you just have to say "yes" to these things and see where they will take you.