As I'm looking back on the last four months, I'm realizing that a lot of the goals I had in mind to work on have fallen by the wayside.
I wanted to eat healthfully and lose a bunch of weight.
I gained 3 pounds.
I wanted to save and make more money at work.
My hours were cut, and and the tension has risen between my boss and coworkers (which will result in me possibly quitting, even in these tough times.)
But, I also look at what I accomplished and I see a new scuba certification and the adventures of exploring an otherwise unknown land underwater.
A humbling experience when you realize how truly powerless you are against nature but how beautifully it can take care of itself.
The La Jolla cove in San Diego, known for barking seals and dense sandy shore, as it turns out is also unpredictable. By nature the cove acts as almost a funnel, turning gentle surf into rough possibly dangerous waters. Scuba diving in the cove should be done by experienced, confident divers.
My partner and I decided to dive the cove, and I fulfill neither of those qualifications just yet.
The kick out was mostly smooth and and fun in the late afternoon sun, while watching the people and seals from the water. The descent was easy and exciting, a complete thrill to see the ocean floor and life that covers it.
We were sucking air and equalizing the pressure in our ears between curiously looking and lightly prodding around sand dollars to find something else we've never seen. It was a great dive for a new diver to experience. We surfaced at dusk, right as the sun started walking away, everything felt safe. We collected ourselves and chattered about all we saw, and gently kicked back between the kelp towards shore.
That is when I realized that the slight darkness would not help me in the growing swell. As we kicked closer the waves grew, until we reached our feet to the sand and an uneasy feeling overcame me.
I desperately tried to pull my fins off and stand with my gear before being pushed to the ground by the pounding waves. As each wave hit, my panic grew and my nerves compelled me to scream for help to my partner. Pushed closer and closer to the rocks beside the staircase, high tide was laughing in my face and keeping me pinned on my back to the floor. The heavy gear weighting me down. I couldn't think straight or at all, and looking back I know I over reacted in my helplessness. My partner ran back and forth throwing gear atop the staircase, pulling my weights from my BC, yelling for me to hold my fins and keep the regulator in my mouth. And finally a break allowed me to crawl pathetically to the stair case where I held on between the crashing waves and unloaded the rest of my gear as high up as I could. I lost one fin in all the hysterics, but felt relieved to be alive at that particular moment. My partner was so generous and tried hard to help me, but it came so easy to him with the placement of his landing on the shore.
Since that night, I've completed four more dives and they have been easy
in comparison. Acknowledging my weaknesses is helping build strength
for future dives and learning how to tackle problems better.
I could say it was a great learning experience (albeit expensive) but more important it's made me humble to the ocean. To know that it needs respect, and even if you anticipate the waves you can't always stand up to them by yourself. It's necessary to look for signs in the ocean, in the waves, swell and current to know if you can or want to tackle a shore dive.
This is something I'm learning in more areas than just this one.
