It was on the last day of a three-day dive trip that we did the Canyons. After all, no trip to PG would be complete without that one.
The Canyons at the north east tip of Puerto Galera are a series of excoriations along the edge of a ridge located around 100 feet down, at the confluence of two currents that combine in to one heck of a current. Being the only viable shelter around, a lot of fish of diffent species use the canyons as a refuge against the current. It is this concentration of marine life that makes the canyons, in some people’s opinions, the number one dive spot in Puerto Galera. For me, it was all about rocks. Beautiful, gorgeous rocks.
After taking a boat out to the site, we began our descent, which to my mind was a lesson in organized chaos. Even at this stage, the current was pulling us out to sea. It was amazing the group remained as cohesive as it did. When you see the dive master finning like crazy for the bottom, it’s a good idea to follow suit – mostly out of fear of being left all alone. After regrouping on the bottom, we made for the canyons.
The only way I can describe it was that it was like rock climbing. Horizontally.
I guess you could say that it was awe inspiring and frightening at the same time. The current was a two edged sword bringing the good things (the fishes I mostly didn’t see), as well as the bad things (the unshakeable feeling that it was God’s oh-so-subtle way of saying “YOU ARE NOT CREATURES OF THE SEA.”). It’s a humbling experience when you’re hanging on to a rock, holding on for dear life and a little fish swims practically stationary next to your head, and swear you can almost hear it squeal with delight.
And so there we were, staying as close to the bottom as possible, making our way through the first of a series of canyons. Mental pictures thus far: Small Fish (1); Big Fish (0); Rocks (many). Somewhere along this mad dash, the DM asks me if I’m okay, and the reply sequence goes as follows: 1. Catch breath 2. Make sure you have firm hand hold 3. Signal okay. Which I was, really, if you took away the slight concern that if I’d just let go of the rocks, I would die…”
Making my way for the second canyon, I noticed that everyone else was clustered on the far side of the canyon, so I slowly inched my way over there thinking the current was better there. I was wrong. The current was so strong, that every time I’d turn my head to see where the others were, my mask would fill up with water. Heck, it was so strong that my octopus, which I thought I had securely tucked into my BC (or was I that inept?) kept ripping out from the vest and whipping out behind me like a pennant in the wind. So there I was, caught in a monumental struggle between hanging onto the rocks (while avoiding the coral – mind you) and clearing my mask, as well as trying to remain oxygenated without becoming too buoyant. With all this in mind, a mermaid could’ve swum in front of me and I wouldn’t have given it a second glance. Okay, maybe a bit of an exaggeration. At some point, the dive master did point out to a school of somewhat larger looking fish (jacks?) off the edge of the ridge, but as stated, my mind was kind of somewhere else at the time.
At about this time, the dive master was signaling for us to return to the relative safety of an out-cropping of rock located in the general direction from where we had just come from, and only two things crossed my mind: “You want us to do WHAT? We just came from there!” as well as “bugger if I let go of this rock before you do!” But then, democracies do not exist on mountaintops and underwater. In both places, you listen to what the experts say, or you die. One by one, we all made it to the safety of the rock. Upon arrival there, I finally had the time to check my air, I was down to 900 PSI. Earlier on during the briefing, we had agreed on a low air setting of 1200, and here I was at 900! I had used up almost a third of my tank in the second canyon! Thus, foregoing the third canyon and the lost anchor, we began our ascent.
Down currents are an interesting thing. I am thankful that as of yet, I do not have the horror story of having to fight one in spite of a fully inflated BCD, but it was quite an experience to note that in spite of vigorous finning for the surface, you actually end up a few feet deeper. Anyhow, after being swept further out into sea, we were able to get out of the down current and did our safety stop with just about enough air left to get us back onto the boat.
I recently read from another site that not too long ago, an inexperienced diver lost a fin, his grip, and subsequently his life. I think these are stories you’d like to know before you do these things, y’know, dive your limits, and all that. But at that time, when I got back on the boat, I was all smiles. Oh sure, the others were all going on and on about seeing the schools of this big fish and that I was stuck with the mental image of the small fish. But I didn’t really care, I was just happy. You’ll never really know what your limits are unless you push the envelope. And you’ll never feel more alive than after exceeding those limits and being able to come back for more.
If someone asked me today if I would still go back down there - knowing what I know now – I would unhesitatingly reply with a definite YES. And maybe this time, I’d keep an eye out for the fishes.
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