Gasping for compressed air

By Allan Yap & Nigel A. Skelchy

Allan and I had dithered all year about diving in the Lembeh Straits last October.Sigh!

Were we ever sorely tempted! But with Hari Raya coming and the rest of the busy season peeking round the corner, we decided that discretion had to be the better part of valour and we needed to earn some money instead of haring off on what was a glorious adventure with Allan's brother Daniel, his girlfriend Chui, and our madcap divebanana bunch!

Daniel Yap took this pic - crab feeding in anemone

If it were not for Allan's sensible arguments about well, being sensible, I would have dropped everything packed one pair of shorts, one pair of underwear and headed off on Air Asia. Sometimes, in your musings do you still wish you were 15? If you’re 15, don’t bother answering. If you’re in your late 20s and on up you know exactly what I mean. Actually, if you asked Allan he probably would say that I haven’t grown up…yet. Hey, we all live in hope.

In any case, at that point in time, our godson Jeremy was about to sit for his A levels. After hearing about our diving escapades he expressed an interest in learning how to dive…someday.

Serendipity strikes at times like these and since we were hankering for some bottled air as well as casting about for a “graduation” present for him, we thought what better than to get him certified and we would have one more thing to do together.

Fast forward to early February and we began searching for dive spots which basically had to conform to certain requirements. We wanted a 5 star Padi centre, a good instructor for the newbies (eventually there was more than one), decent lodgings, and beautiful dive sites.

Enter Redang Kalong and Alex.

Along the way we also accumulated some new groupies. As things stand 9 of us will be heading up to Redang.

I’m chomping at the bit to get behind the wheel of our CRV and drive off into the night only to arrive at dawn at the Merang jetty to take the early boat over to the island. It’s for times like these that the phrase “sense of adventure” was coined.

It’s been almost 8 months since our lungs felt the rasp of metallic air through a regulator and it couldn’t be more timely. Diving is truly one of the miracles of our modern world. When you take the step off the boat and your head submerges you are instantly transported to another realm. A realm where weightlessness takes on true meaning, a realm which has inhabitants of its own in a social circle you will only ever be able to peer at but never to join. It is an alien planet peopled by the strange and the beautiful. The poisonous and the mundane. It is all blue/brown/grey at the depths we visit and that’s just up to 45m. But when you shine a light on them all manner of colours leap out at you. It's voyeuristic.

While we live on the fringes of the truly hard core divers (who hop from dive site to dive site and then return home for 3 months to accumulate enough money to barely survive for the rest of the year diving) it is without a doubt one of the most exhilarating sports that I’ve ever experienced. Skiing would be a close second.

Now if you’ve seen me, you’ll know that I’m not an athlete. As a matter of fact, the word “athlete” seems to have been coined with me in mind as the antonym. I was built for comfort, not speed!

Since December I've also been resigned to the fact that I would not be able to take any more underwater pictures this time around. I'd given up looking for our little digital camera. 2 days ago, my Uncle asked me what camera I'm using now and when I mentioned that I'd lost my camera my Dad pipes up chirpily "oh, you leave it all over the place so I thought I'd keep it for you." For 3 months! Without telling us.

Roll on 28 Mar and rubs my hands together in glee!