Est modus in rebus

From Tioman, the ‘diving with dad’ trip  [3rd to 8th July] 

A continuation from Diving 1

When we come up all of us are chatty, especially dad and the mat

sallehs.

It is lunch time, we are given a little box consisting of a sandwich,

apple, boiled egg and a tiny piece of cake. The older mat salleh

who started off the conversation with “So I heard you talking about

Sipadan just now, old timer” is now merrily recounting his

experience at some diving haven called Truc near the Polynesian

Islands, where if one liked wreck diving, boasted of 40 sunken

wartime ships there for your pleasure.

 

I like the fact that at the very start of the excursion everyone probably

thought that my good ol dad, a little big round the middle, was probably

more suited to a lazyboy than a dive trip. Now however, he is in

the centre of some serious dive talk.

Underwater deaths, the bends,

dangers of wreck diving, the quality of dive equipment,

overconfident divers and an assortment of interesting dive stories

leave me and the younger lad wide-eyed and appreciative.

Yeah, never understood the rush to get masters licences and all 

without getting the dives in first.

 

 

 

During the second dive and the rather pretty Malang Rocks, and

about 12 metres down (and going lower) I see that my mask is

filling up with water. Dang you mask! Okay, it’s mask clearing time,

and I tap Francis’ shoulder nearby, just in case I screw up.

I don’t panic underwater 

but I really do hate clearing masks. My eyes!

Somehow when I know I’m supposed to blow air from my nose to

clear the mask I blow more air from mouth (so they tell me) and I

hold the mask wrong and more often than not I take

3 takes to clear the damn thing.

Anyhow at this time I accomplish it fairly quickly

(shame factor), it’s done, and we go on our way.

We do quite a bit of going under rocks/cave-ish spots and luckily I

don’t bump my tank or head – though I get a scratch or two on my

thigh after all our dives. Dad is fine and well happy.

 

When we come up and proceed to head off it rains again, and it’s no

small-fry rain.

It pours like it had been holding out for us all this time.

 

I can’t describe how beautiful it is, and how awesome at the same

time.

No picture will justify it. All I can do is stare, not a word leaves

my lips for a long time.

We get towels from the crew to wrap up, but it is cold. All round us

is the rain hitting the sea, looking like a million diamond droplets

hovering just an inch above the water. The grey clouds, threatening,

but not alarmingly so, are spread evenly everywhere you look. The

wind howls and soon we see nothing but the rain’s mist all around

our little boat. It is such an amazing thing.

It seems to take forever to get back to land, and at one point the rain

gets so heavy everyone at the front takes shelter (and wrapped with

extra towels) at the back, all drenched and shivering. Francis laughs

at me because I guess I seem thoroughly happy by the experience.

The roaring rain and the sea, how more close to nature can one

get? (Wait don’t answer :p)

As we finally get to the jetty and make our way (run) to the dive

centre, I reflect on how relaxed I feel,

and how glad I am to see my old man so content and pleased with

the day’s proceedings.

“It went very well, I feel so relaxed,” he said, adding that he hoped

for a few more dives in the future before he revisited Sipadan.

I understand why now dad always wanted me to dive with him, and I

will continue to dive with him for as long as he can.

 

 

 

He may never get to dive with his grandchildren, but I guess it will be

enough for me to teach my kids in the future, and make this a family

tradition. Hopefully my brothers (hint, hint) will also eventually join

us on these dive trips.

And for as long as it stays this way, Tioman island will be one

place we will come back again and again as the place my family got

our sunburns, dive education and where my dad said proudly “Yes

that is my girl, and she dives too.”

 

Highly recommended for soppy folks like moi, if you can’t already tell.

xo

From Tioman, the ‘diving with dad’ trip  [3rd to 8th July] 

Dad and I did our check dive yesterday. To our utter disappointment,

we find out that Richard, his good friend and my diving ‘guru’,

has moved to the mainland.

We make a guess that it is because his young son

has grown quite a bit and needs proper schooling and thus Richard

and his wife Dot decided to make a move from their home of so many

years.

I don’t think I’ll ever see the Berjaya Dive Centre the same way again.

 

But some of the staff there remember Dad and call him Old Timer,

one being Francis, who would be the one to do our check dives with us

and also dive with us today. Dad has dived so many times he doesn’t

bring his dive card or equipment or anything, and I (being the useless

numbskull that I am) also am card-less, and logbook-less. “But

I got my licence here itself in 2001,” I tell Francis, and Dad adds: “Yes, and with

Richard!”

We get the knowing looks and nods, fill in the necessary

forms and voila – it’s an all-clear,

we can dive as long as we pass the check dive – which is a less elaborate

version of the Refresher course, necessary when one has not been diving

for a while.

My last dive was in 2007, which I am not very worried about.

But dad, who has been through a number of serious operations over

the years, is a bit fragile.

If it was up to mom, he wouldn’t be diving at all. But we both

convinced her that he is never as joyful, relaxed and happy than

when he is diving, and the green light is obtained.

After the obligatory mask clearing exercise and having a lil dive

between the centre and Renggis Island etc …

the results are in. Two thumbs up for me and dad for diving.

That was yesterday. Today, we wake up to rain. Dark clouds.

It doesn’t look good.

As dad has to fly off on Monday evening and can only dive today

(for the nitrogen etc to clear from the body), I peer from my blanket

in the early morning and wonder if it will happen – my first diving

excursion with dad, long overdue.