How to sink under March 19 - 25, 2001 ... is not so tough to learn, tougher is to surface again in good health...

	Look daddy what I caught!

So I've been through first two pool lessons of scuba diving. It began with gathering of gadgets. While I was desperately trying to remember how to convert from kilos to pounds and centimeters to feet and inches, and all this apply to American clothing sizes (and receiving cordial assistance from the whole class), our instructor, Greg, chose my neoprene suit. It smelled like rubber and rancid water, and was disturbingly large (disturbingly, because the thin layer of water that you carefully hold between your body and the rubber keeps in a large suit exchanging for new water, which is FRESH and COLD). Further I obtained weights, a regulator, BCD, and an air tank.

I was glad again for our choice of Cecilia - after all a little "wagon" has its privileges; I did not need to humbly beg someone else to haul my equipment home (unlike my French classmates, who came in a pretty sporty Porsche -- which besides them also accepts up to one purse).

We reassured ourselves mutually that the map we got cannot possibly help us in finding the pool site, and voted unanimously to drive in a group. I think it was the first test of the class -- trying to keep five cars together during twenty minutes across two freeways (85 and 280) and a maze of residential streets aspires, in my opinion, for an entry in Guinness' Book of Records. A surprise awaited me at the end -- we were to use an outdoor pool. Being in the middle of March as we were, it stroke me somewhat crazy, but then I realized that I've been running around in shorts and sandals, and that I BECAME A CALIFORNIA RESIDENT (however, even in California, evenings are cold, I slowly started to regret having chosen shorts).

I did not expect to get warm so fast. Before I tried to put it on, my wetsuit shrank maliciously and no matter what I did, I could pull its crotch only up to the half of my thighs. That was accompanied by suit's shoulders located somewhere in the middle of my back. And since it was too late to change it, I had to survive it somehow. If something is difficult, use Force. In a small while I was merrily walking around, though a bit bent backward and with the a penguin's strides (try to tie your legs right above your knees!), but I kept cheering myself up that "it" will stretch a bit in the water. I was soaking wet (before getting in the water) and hoping that Greg did not notice my tank standing upright for a while (he threatened that whoever lets his/her tank unattended will pay for a pack of beers).

Eventually all got dressed and hung all over with gadgetry, and slid into the pool. My doubtlessly impressive image got boosted by a mask, which is airtight and pulls my upper lip up -- makes me look like an exotic dancer with a mental disability.

We began at the shallow end of the pool, had to kneel down on the bottom to get our heads under water. Well, had to ... some of us; I could not get down no matter what I tried. Suit, tank, mask, everything floats, and so I was demonstrating a drowning man upside down -- fighting like a tiger to get UNDER. Greg gave me some more weights and I finally dropped to the bottom. In this pose I discovered another discrepancy -- while others looked quite happy, I was desperately gasping for air, despite my full tank and perfectly functioning regulator. I don't know if IQ drops with increasing depth, but after I while I had an idea to BREATHE OUT first -- wow -- suddenly there was room in my lungs for fresh air!

	Help, it points down there!

Greg taught us basic stuff -- what to do, if somebody takes (or most likely kicks) away your lifesaving hose and so on. Suddenly all the lights went out. Imagine five people standing in the middle of a completely dark pool, dressed in wetsuits and gadgets. However, I have to report that I KNOW how to take off my tank, climb out of the pool, remove the regulator and pack it all up in a total darkness, without a serious injury. What more -- I even brought everything home in appropriate counts and pairs where applicable!

	Noooo, it's up there!

My beloved husband welcomed me at the door and instead of helping me with my things, he gazed at me through my new camera. I thought he was taking a picture, but Olympus 3040 can even record a few minutes of a movie. Now you have a chance to see "Diver's Return" (go to HERE, but we recommend if for high end computers with a high speed connection only, it's two megs! You may need to install QuickTime). I got my camera as a birthday present (I must be a most wonderful wife to earn it!), as our poor old Mavica had too low resolution. Now there's no excuse and there shall always be pictures for my journals.

Next pool session was on Thursday. I came to the shop early and swapped my suit for a woman's model (which counts on me being somewhat - ehm - "shapely" ). Stefan (the Frenchman with the Porsche) grabbed my suit instead, as his original one was too large for him. Everybody happy. Greg told us some stories about sharks and soon we were all driving in this horrible autocade to the pool. This time, another group joined us, and they were learning the use of drysuits. Our group grew by a pair that previously missed some class, and a woman named Dinah (I'm just a Californian girl), who never ventured outside U.S. and was flabbergasted by the fact that our class included one Czech (I doubt she knows where Prague is, she just said, "Oh, how nice") and a French couple.

	I feel like a frog on a well -- it's quite wet under me

We began with "giant stride", where a completely suited diver steps into the pool. It requires a few small skills -- like holding your mask to not lose it from your face, and holding your instruments to prevent them from hitting the same face. Dinah resolutely strode and -- sunk like a rock all the way to the bottom. After that, none of us needed any more of Greg's advice to REALLY check that our BCDs are inflated. .

Staying in the "deep end" (I bet it was no more than 10 feet) turned out to be no problem for me; thus encouraged and in good spirit, I started trying to clear my mask (back in the shallows). Theoretically whenever water gets into your mask, you simply exhale through your nose, which pushes water out. How simple! Yet one of my ancestors must have been a whale -- though trying my best I did not manage anything but surface while water gushed through my nostrils. If anyone will want this of me in the ocean, I will truly kick him!

	Yellow, slimy -- banana slug

Either it was too much for me this week, or got affected by another miracle of Soviet technology -- we cardinally overslept on Friday, and not just us. Martina, too, reported terminal tiredness, who knows, if it has any connection with the late Mir space station. Maybe it is just a classic Spring laziness. I must admit that we slept through mornings till noon on both weekend days. On Saturday we just managed to visit Planet Granite, where Sid conquered his first TR 5.9. His climbing is obviously getting better than my diving, but perhaps I'll catch up.

	In June, everything will be as dry as this thistle ... for now it's Spring

We've planned a small walk for Sunday, enhanced again by geocaching. This time it was a bit more strenuous, GPS inside a forest does not "see" the sky and cannot chat with satellites. We had to dither through the woods and "sniff" it out (dilution of precision was, again, a few tens of feet). The author of this cache seemed to be Russian -- for one his logbook started with "Welcome and Privet", and the surrounding forest was typical mushroom grounds. Russians are known here by the passion for going "za gribami" -- mushroom foraging. It was obvious how they discovered this spot. The whole grove looked like a typical Russian fairytale landscape (moss growing on trees and boulders), only a few birches were missing.

This time of year is the most active vegetation period, the winter rains are over, there's plenty of moisture and it is getting warmer. One might even hear the grass grow. We saw wild strawberry blossoms, and thousands of banana slugs.

We drifted into a movie theater by the evening, the Nitpicker (Sid used to write movie reviews for the Invisible Dog) already had serious withdrawal symptoms. We would prefer to see "Divided We Fall", but they only played "Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon". A Chinese fairytale, which did not get disturbed by rules of physics (fighters merrily fly through the air and eventually wrestle hanging on bamboo treetops). It made me laugh quite a few times, but to give it Oscars ... well, people have various tastes...

Copyright © 2001-2004 by Carol & Sid Paral. All rights reserved.