Drive South - Part 3: The Barfening

originally published April 14, 2018

 I have a love/hate relationship with boats. When we first moved to Florida, my dad was a Dockmaster at a marina in Miami. Wow, writing that sentence gave me flashbacks. Here’s the place he used to work:



When I was sick or had a holiday from school, Dad would take me to work with him. I adored hanging around in his office and on the dock, all the voices of the sea singing around me. One of the perks of the job was that some of the residents would let my dad use their boats, and he would take the family out for a day on the ocean. These were nice boats, too, big yachts. But, no matter how fancy the vessel, I would get seasick every time.

And here I was again, on a boat, feeling the spritz of salt spray and the warm breath of wind on my face. I adore being on the ocean. I really wish she would return the favor once in a while.

I was expending all my efforts to keep my stomach calm as the boat zipped across the shimmering Atlantic. Outwardly, I was trying to put on a strong front, chatting and laughing with the other divers. Maybe pretending everything was okay would work. But it wasn’t okay. Inside, I was waging a war against my rebellious gut. Focusing so completely on what was happening inside, I neglected to prepare for what was happening outside. As we arrived at the dive site, I wasn’t ready to go. Big mistake. I had planned on being suited up before the boat stopped so I could be first in the water. But… well, you know what they say about the best laid plans.

The other divers started dropping into the clear water as the boat rocked up and down. The first few began their descent while others bobbed at the surface, tweaking their buoyancy. I still had time, if I could hurry. I pulled up my wetsuit, and tried to don my BCD. Everything went sideways very quickly. My heart racing, my body temperature skyrocketed. I felt like I was on fire. The captain was right there with me, trying to keep me calm and help me, but it was of no use. I was in full panic mode. She led me into the shade of the canopy and the ship’s mate put an ice pack on the back of my neck. Still, other divers remained at the surface. I wanted so badly to join them. Maybe if I got out of my wetsuit, I could still do this.

My hands refused to cooperate, wouldn’t follow orders. I couldn’t get my booties off. The last of the group disappeared beneath the waves, along with my chance to join the party. Nope. I’d be sitting this dive out. Well, shit.

After I cooled (and calmed) down, our captain suggested I try snorkeling. The reef we were anchored over, Horseshoe Reef, was shallow enough to offer a nice view, plus I would feel better in the water than I would on the boat. So, in I went. I didn’t get to dive but I did get to see the fishies and what not.




After about 30 minutes, I was starting to get cold but didn’t want to get back onto the boat too soon. As I milled about on the surface, the nausea returned full force. I decided to just give in to it rather than fight it off. Maybe if I purged what little was in my stomach, I’d feel better and could make the next dive. You’re welcome, fishies.

Getting back on the boat was a challenge. The surf was rolling quite a bit and my knees did not like climbing up that ladder at all. I don’t know how I would have made it wearing my full kit. Once everyone was back aboard, we headed for dive site number two. It wasn’t far but it wasn’t long before I was hugging the rail again. Sorry, dive mates! Our captain announced we would be going to the Christ of the Abyss statue. Nooooo! I didn't want to miss that but, once again, as the others were making their descent, I was too busy barfing to join them. Dammit! That  was one of the things I was most looking forward to on this trip. So, vomit be damned, I was getting in the water. I dropped in and caught up with the others. Visibility was a tad cloudy, maybe 15 feet, and it took a bit of exploring to find what I was looking for. I was about to give up when, out of the shadows it appeared, a large rectangular structure - the base of the statue. There stood the likeness of Christ, hands reaching longingly towards the heavens. It was quite ethereal and peaceful.



So, day one of diving had lots of vomiting and no diving. Hey, there’s always shore diving, right?

But wait, there’s more! I still had two days left in Key Largo. Would I dare to venture out onto the water again? Find out in our next installment.

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