Koh Pha Ngan: The Trilogy Episode II

After two more days of lounging on the beach, hour long beach-side Thai massages, and wandering around town I was ready for some action. Joe was completing the first day of his dive certification course so I was on my own.

I started the day with a yoga class. It was held outside and overlooked a beautiful pond surrounded by plants and flowers. It was early-ish so it wasn't too hot, and it felt great. After my class I wanted to check out a different part of the island. I'd read that the north shore was home to some of Koh Pha Ngan's most beautiful beaches, so I headed north. It took about 20 minutes to reach Haad Salad and about halfway there the sky opened up and it started pouring. Not wanting to abandon my mission I crossed my fingers in hopes that the rain would stop before my destination was reached. The gods must have been smiling down on me, because miraculously, the rain tapered to a mist. The north part of the island is much less developed than the southern or western regions. There was only a handful of shops along a dirt road on the way to the beach, but I wasn't there for the shops anyhow. The beach I was staying on, Ban Tai, paled in comparison to Haad Salad. The sand, so fine and soft, the water, a perfect translucent turquoise, and all surrounded by lush green mountains. All I wanted to do was lay in the soft sand and enjoy the natural beauty, so that's just what I did. After a few hours it began raining again, so I hopped into an open air, beachfront massage shop for a $10 Thai massage while I watched the rain dimple the water's surface.

I made a friend

As the day faded into late afternoon I figured I had better get a taxi back, as I was unsure how hard it would be to even find a taxi so far out from the main tourist center. Trying to find my way back to the main road was even a challenge in itself, and by the time I did it was pouring again, which I don't think helped my chances. I was turned down by five different shops that advertised taxis-no one wanted to go as far as I was asking-or if they were willing they wanted five times the reasonable rate. At last when I was soaking wet and just about ready to start hoofing it I found a willing driver.

After I finally made it back, Joe and I ate Mexican for dinner, which is more of a treat than you can ever know. Aside from Italian food, Japan really doesn't offer much in the way of ethnic or foreign foods. The fact that there was a Mexican and a Greek restaurant less than 15 minutes from our bungalow was such a source of joy for me. How I missed hummus and burritos!!

The next day was the third and last day of Joe's dive certification course, so I joined him for a dive. Our dive site for the day was Sail Rock, a giant rock in the middle of the ocean which has created a natural habitat for hundreds of species of marine life. I was even told about a "chimney," or vertical swim through, in which we could explore. In short, a perfect place for a diver to play. I was so excited about this dive-it would probably one of my best dives yet!

What it looks like on a good day.

When we arrived at the dive site, there were huge waves breaking onto the north side of the rock and washing around to the south side-where we were going to descend. I was more than happy to get down to depth because I felt like a bobbing apple on the surface. But as we descended, my hope for this to be one of the best dives of my life, slowly faded away as did the visibility. At depth, about 60 feet, there was a visibility of no more than two feet. I was expecting at least twenty, but more like forty!

There were four of us in our group, including the dive master. Joe was my buddy. He was swimming behind me and I was swimming hard to keep up with the diver in front of me because the current was so strong. All I could see was the bright color of his fins. At one point we stopped because one of our divers was having trouble equalizing his mask. I turned around to see what Joe was up to and he was nowhere. I looked hard into the green murkiness for a silhouette. When I turned around to notify the dive master I found myself completely alone. I turned around again just to make sure, but I saw nothing, no one. At this point I was disoriented because I had turned around so many times. I couldn't be sure which direction we had been swimming in. I didn't have a compass on me and if I swam in the wrong direction it would be out into the open sea. Being 60 feet under the ocean's surface, alone, and seeing nothing but murky green water all around me, above me, and below me was one of the scariest experiences. There were so many particles rushing past me (because the crazy strong current) I became slightly disoriented again and wasn't sure if I was sinking like a rock or sailing up to the surface-both of which are equally dangerous. I kept my eye on my air and depth gauges to make sure I was at the correct depth and okay on my air supply.

I think one's instant reaction in this situation is to freak out, which triggers rapid, shallow breathing; something a diver should never do. To calm myself I focused on my breath, slow and steady in, slow and steady out. As my nerves calmed I remembered the dive masters word's, "if you get separated count to 60 and slowly ascend to the surface. DO NOT continue on your own or join another group!" I wasn't wearing a watch, but I waited what I guessed was two minutes, although it felt more like twenty. When I was sure it had been long enough and I was ready to ascend I caught a glimpse of the dive master's fluorescent fins. I had never been so happy to see anyone in my whole life! I swam near and saw the other members of my group. After we swam a ways I realized there was one more diver than we originally had. When we stopped and the instructor turned around I realized this wasn't my group. My heart quickly sank like a lead weight to the bottom of the ocean. She saw me, realized I had lost my group, and gave me the okay signal. I signaled back that I was okay. I knew at that point that I should probably surface, even though I had been swimming with them for awhile. But like a siren from the sea she motioned for me to join then, and even though I knew I shouldn't, I just couldn't say no. Together we swam a bit further until we realized one of their members was missing as well. It was impossible to see any kind of marine life in the limited visibility, let alone stay together in a group. We ascended together, making a safety stop at 15 feet to allow our lungs to adjust, and the nitrogen to release from our bodies. When we finally made it to the surface we realized we had drifted at least a half mile from Sail Rock. The currents we so strong we had been pulled out to sea. With no other choice we began to swim.

When I finally made it back to my boat (after being picked up by the other group's boat and taxied over to mine) I had been missing for thirty minutes. The dive master had enlisted the help of other dive master's and had been using search and rescue techniques to try to find me. I was relieved to be back on the boat, but felt like a real jerk for freaking everyone out and not surfacing sooner. We had to abandon our dive site for the day because the conditions were so terrible. One of the dive master's on board told me he'd never seen Sail Rock in such bad conditions in the few years he'd been taking divers there. So, I was expecting the best diving conditions of my life, and instead I got the worst. I was hugely disappointed, and we only had one day left on the island so there wasn't even time to try again.