Diving with Sharks by Sue Baker
Standing on the edge of the aquarium, fully dressed in a black neoprene dry suit, I looked down into the deep crystal clear water. The gentle ripples made by the multitude of its inhabitants caused the reflection of the over head lights to look like fire fly’s dancing to attract a mate.
As the heat from the water warmed the large building around me, I could feel my face glow; I could see a variety of fish swirling in the water below enjoying their manmade home.
I was in North Queesferry in Deep Sea World, and at this precise time I had mixed emotions at what I was about to do. On one hand my stomach churned with excited enthusiasm, able to do something many people can only dream about; and on the other a giant wave of apprehension at not knowing what to expect.
I was going to dive with sharks!
With a tank full of air on my back and extra weights around my waist, I prepared myself. I needed to make sure I was below the majestic creatures. If I rose to their height things could get a little hairy, they might have it in their heads I was for supper. I visualised napkins around their necks and knives and forks in their fins! With a big smirk on their faces thinking, ‘I want to invite you for dinner!’ With shaking hands, I placed my mask over my eyes before continuing examine the reminder of my important kit. Placing the regulator in my mouth I took deep breaths from my tank, ensuring nothing could go wrong by watching the regulator fluctuate with every breath.
Filling my Buoyancy Control Device, with air from my tank ensuring I wouldn’t sink faster than intended. I had to stay in control. Looking once more into the clear water, I prepared myself! My rapidly beating heart felt as if it was trying to escape from the confines of its cage, my breathing echoed strongly loud in my ears.
Cautiously stepping into the water, I made my way down the manmade steps into the appealing water, feeling the warmth of it wrap around me like a warm blanket on a chilly day. As I inched myself gently in, little by little, the increased pressure of the water caused my suit to mould to my body.
Buoyant on top, I put my face in the water and saw that everyone had made it safely to the bottom. Slowly I let the air out of my B. C. D. and sank gradually down; landing on my feet I walked to the group. My legs moved me along inch by inch slowed down by the water. This was the closest I would get to walking on the moon.
I squeezed my nose and blew, clearing my ears. When you go up in a plane you do the same thing, it’s the same when you go down on a dive. You could also yawn, but it’s not advisable under water.
The instructor put together his thumb and fore-finger and made a letter ‘O’ asking if I was okay. I returned the signal indicating I was.
I must remember not to smile.
Doing so would break the seal between my mask and face, causing the mask to fill with water. But I was failing miserably from the word go. I smiled and already it was beginning to fill fast. I would have to clear my mask every few minutes or so with the amount of grinning I was doing.
Looking around me I could take in all the magic of the alien underwater world. Slowly we started making our way towards the walkway that ran through the middle of the aquarium. Somehow we had to get over the arch. The main diver had explained to us, while on dry land, how we would get over. Bring our legs up under us; pushing them forward and over we would go taking like a vaulting horse.
I couldn’t believe how high I seemed to fly in the water.
Looking up above I watched the sharks orbit; they reminded me of vultures flying in the sky circling, watching and waiting. Even the sharks that hugged the sand looked superb in the way they glided along, effortlessly.
The many species of fish swam around taking no notice of the intruders who had invaded their home, their world. I caught sight of a ray fish as it elegantly waved its wings, flying gracefully across the ground, leaving a swirling cloud of sand in its wake.
From the safety of the walkway spectators watched the sight before them. Maybe we had been billed as a new species, never seen before in captivity.
Stopping at the russet manmade wall, I stood and observed a long black Conger eel emerging from its hole. Slowly squirming along the outline of the rock then halted right within arms reach of me. I watched in awe at how close the creature came, unafraid.
Our guide made a movement with his hand, asking if I would like to stroke the animal. My thick glove couldn’t come off my hand quickly enough as I smiled and nodded at the offer. I felt like a child with all the excitement of Christmas.
With face mask filling again with the water, I moved closer and warily put out my hand to touch the untamed animal. Gently I placed my fingers on its back and stroked the contours of its skin.
I was very surprised at the texture of the eel’s skin; to my fingers it felt similar to soft velvet. As it rested there I realised it wasn’t black, more like a midnight hue. The only movement was that of its tail as if enjoying the caress of my fingers like a puppy wanting attention. It decided it had enough and swam back to the safety of the small cave.
I was failing miserably at trying not to smile, so I gave up trying.
