Snakes and Scuba

My adventures with nature began long before I got into the scary ocean this morning. My adventures began an hour earlier. On my way to take Scrubs out to the front yard for some Frisbee (in an effort to wear him out before the babysitter showed up), I happened to find this "little critter" sitting by the front wheel of our van.

Thank goodness I have been training Scrubs to wait to go outside until he is given permission to go outside (instead of busting through the door and nearly knocking me over like he used to do.) If so, we could have had a very sick (or even dead) dog on our hands. Instead, I saw the snake, slammed the door, and like any wife who is married to a man in love with anything having to do with nature or the wilderness yelled, "SNAKE!!!!!"

Actually, now that I think about it . . . I don't think it would have mattered if my husband was interested in snakes or not. He's a man. I'm not. It's his job to take care of a snake. Right?

JB came running. Not out of fear mind you. Out of sheer excitement. This guy loves snakes! Loves animals. Loves anything nature related. JB is "on call" at the hospital if anyone ever comes in with a snake bite. He is currently working on a research project with some of the rangers on base who work with snakes which will test people's ability to recognize poisonous snakes in the wild. We used to have four snakes for crying out loud. (What was I thinking?)

He took one look at the snake and informed me that it was a juvenile cottonmouth which is poisonous. Great. A poisonous snake in our carport. Ugh.

He grabbed a metal bucket and managed to secure the snake underneath the bucket. He then grabbed the keys to the shed and emerged with a secure Tupperware container with holes already poked in the top. (Do you think he has done this before?)

We then had a brief conversation which included me asking him what he was doing, him telling me that he was going to put the snake somewhere safe until he could bring it to the ranger-snake-guys, and me asking him why he just didn't kill it. I should have known better than to ask John that. He looked at me like I suggested we kill a close family member. "Why would I kill it?" he asked. "Because it's poisonous," I replied. "So because he was born with venom, he has to die?" he asked me.

I knew from the tone of his voice that I had majorly insulted him -- and I quickly flashed back to the time that I drowned two little lizards stuck in our bathtub because I didn't know what else to do with them. That had not gone over well. "Lizards?!" he had said when he saw them floating in the bathtub. "They kill bugs! You don't kill lizards!!" And my suggestion that I kill the snake did not go over well either. It was then that my dear husband informed me that we could only kill cockroaches and flies. Nothing else. Reptiles were completely off limits. Even if they could kill us.

"All right. Fine. Keep the poisonous snake. But lock it in the shed," I compromised.

(He did.)

Needless to say, by the time the babysitter showed up, I wasn't exactly in a mellow mood. And now it was time to breathe underwater.

Was I dreading it? Actually, yes. All week, I kept wishing Saturday wouldn't come. I was not looking forward to it all. I was scared. I was nervous. And I didn't want to try to get that wet suit on again.

So, the question everyone wants an answer to. How was it?

Many people had told me that the first time you go underwater, all your nervousness and worry fades away amidst the glorious expanse of the ocean. That the beauty of God's magnificent underwater creations erases any nervousness one has about doing what we were not designed to do. (Breathe underwater.)

That did not happen to me.

Our instructor had told us our two dives would be low visibility. What he didn't tell us until we got there were the details.

We were diving in a bay that was ideal for a "first dive" because it was over 20' deep and the water was very calm. All right. That sounded fine.

What he didn't tell us was the other reason why it was ideal.

"If you can dive here," our instructor said as we made our way into the water, "You can dive anywhere."

Huh?

In other words, this would be the worst place we ever dive. The visibility was, seriously, four feet. I was holding JB's hand, but I couldn't see him. I couldn't see anything. The idea I guess was to scare us at the beginning. Give us the worst case scenario and see how we do.

Hmmm . . . I wasn't too keen on that plan. And I told our instructor so. (In a nice way of course.)

But, I didn't freak out. I stayed calm. And I made it. I am one day closer to becoming scuba certified.

The moment I went under the water, I felt myself at a crossroads. I could do what would come naturally: panic. I could freak out and say I couldn't do this and make a total fool of myself. Or, I could trust John.

So that's what I did. I decided to hold his hand, let him guide me, and trust that I would be okay. I concentrated on breathing regularly (the most important rule in scuba diving) and staying neutrally buoyant (floating properly in the water which is achieved by inflating or deflating your BCD). I held onto JB and let him guide me. (Or drag me as he told me later. I guess I forgot to swim sometimes.)

I accomplished all the tasks required to continue toward our graduation tomorrow. I flooded my mask. I cleared my mask. I did a controlled ascent. I did a controlled descent. I swam around for twenty-five minutes. I did my "injured diver tow." I took my weight belt on and off. I took my BCD on and off. I cleared my regulator.

But I'll be honest. I did not enjoy it. Not really any of it. As we were driving home, I asked JB if he had fun. I was worried that he was going to say he had the best time. If so, I was hopeless. But he told me that that was not a fun dive. It was a dive to meet our requirements and get us comfortable with bad conditions. It was the worst dive he had ever been on as well. It wasn't a dive designed to have fun. Okay. Good. At least I got that part down. Because I did not have fun.

Tomorrow we will do our last two dives in the ocean in Destin. It is supposed to be beautiful and truly fun and enjoyable. (That's when I am supposed to see the sky open up and realize what I have been missing all my life.) Tomorrow will be a true test as to whether this sport is for me. As a few of you suggested when I asked for advice, just because I take the class doesn't mean I have to be a diver or ever dive again. But I am trying it. And honestly, diving has always been something I have been terrified of. So I am proud of myself. And JB is proud of me which is really cool.

At least I know tomorrow will be easier. And that I'll hopefully get to see at least one cool fish tomorrow. Today, all I was saw was mud and sediment.

I can only go up from here!