Holy Diver!

Five days or so after reaching Utilla, I made my mind up. I would dive. I had to overcome my fear and just go for it. Many of our crew began disappearing. Bryce, Jed and Leah left for Nicaragua. Friends came and went. I stayed.

Wes, Julie, and a young Scotsman named Stewart and I all agreed to take our Open Water Certification class together. We spent a couple of days talking to the different dive shops and trying to decide which one to enroll with.

Searching for a dive shop is hard. You are after all entrusting these people with your life. You have to weigh the costs, versus the sense of security, find an instructor you´re comfortable with, and when deciding as a group, everyone has to agree. When choosing a dive shop inUtilla there´s an extra thing to consider: shopping local.

This will be a small digression and I´ll try not to make it a rant. There´s a serious problem forming in Utilla. The Honduran government has not taken the necessary precautions to ensure that the market won´t be taken over by foreign investment. In Thailand for instance, it is necessary to have a local own part of any business. If there isn´t a local involved taxes are so high that economic advantages are not as great. In Honduras no such laws seem to exist. Foreign owners can simply roll in with their (relatively speaking) big bank accounts, and set up shop. On Utilla the price of dive classes is fixed at $239 for Open Water certification, however many of the dive shops offer extra perks like free accomodation while diving with them, and cheap BBQ´s with all you can drink for $8US. These things make for an incredible value to the shoestring traveler, however it also takes business away from locally owned hotels and restaurants. It´s unfortunate but true that gradually the people of Utilla are being squeezed out of ownership of their own island.

Parrots of the Carribbean
So after all was said and done, we decided to go with one of only three locally owned dive shops on the island: Parrot´s Diving Center. Our instructor was a long haired 22 year old named Joel from Barcelona, Spain with over 2500 dives under his belt. The owner Jon had grown up on the island and had been diving there since he was eleven. He was a wealth of knowledge in regards to the different dive spots, and really knew the area as only a local could.

Our first day of class was spent watching videos and reading our textbooks. We didn´t actually get in the water until the second day. When we finally did I had a hard time adjusting. When we first deflated our life vests and submerged into the water my brain rejected the experience. I basically hit the eject button and surfaced immediately. My instructor was very patient and talked me through it.

"It just takes longer for some people to adjust to it.¨he said. After a minute or so I agreed to try again and joined the rest of my class under water.

Breathing under water is a very surreal experience. Not only is it an entirely unnatural thing to be doing, but your senses are all very mixed up as well. Everything appears larger and closer. There´s next to no sound that you recognize. Just the sound of your slow and shallow breathing. Eventually though you do get used to it. If you´re anything like me, you get addicted to it.

Escape from the Island
I stayed on Utilla long enough to do 12 dives. About seven in addition to my Open Water Course. On my last day there I did three dives. Two in the morning and one Night Dive. Night diving is the closest any of us could ever hope to get to being an astronaut. Floating through the darkness surrounded by the environment of another world. A tiny patch of light exposing unfamiliar creatures. Awesome in the truest sense of the word. I saw lobster, shrimp, and octopus.

Eventually I had to set a date, get up and leave or else I might have stayed quite a bit longer. I meant to be on Utilla for three days. When I left, I´d been there for two weeks. I could have stayed and done my Advanced Open Water, but Guatamala was calling. So finally I bid goodbye to Wes and Julie, packed my bag, and took the 6am ferry off the island. Now I´m back in Copan, en route to Antigua, and jonesing for a tank of canned air.