Innocents Abroad: Becoming an Expat

Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness, and many of our people need it sorely on these accounts. Broad, wholesome, charitable views of men and things cannot be acquired by vegetating in one little corner of the earth all one's lifetime.
- Innocents Abroad (Mark Twain)

We finally did it. After years of dive travel in the Caribbean to sites exotic, rustic, popular, or off-the-beaten path we finally took the big step to relocate abroad. This week we signed a contract to purchase a home along the Mayan Riviera in the tiny community of Chemuyil, Mexico, near Tulum. And there we will stay.

How does it feel to be poised on the edge of expatriation? Liberating. Adventurous. Like we’re coming home.

What causes a person to leave their country and familiar culture and embark on such a journey? Is there a latent émigré gene that suddenly becomes active and metastasizes, compelling one to seek a new horizon? Do they feel pushed out of the U.S. or pulled to their new home abroad, or both? Expats everywhere have been gracious in their responses to my endless questions. Most just shrug their shoulders and say, “We’ve been coming here for years on vacation and really liked it, so we just decided to stay.” No big deal. 

L-R: Kristi, Teresa Willey,
Doug Willey (the real
estate agent),The Colonel

But it is a big deal. To become an expat one must navigate through an often labyrinthine government bureaucracy, learn another language, assimilate into a new and sometimes confusing culture, and accept a vastly different pace of life and living conditions. When these challenges negatively affect one’s emotional state it is "culture-shock" – a serious condition that spells trouble for a would-be expat.

Expats everywhere, I’ve discovered, seem to have a natural immunity to culture-shock. The challenges that are a big deal to others are just minor inconveniences to an expat, dwarfed by the benefits of living abroad. For us, the benefits are a lower cost of living, friendly people, a better climate, a simpler lifestyle, and an abundance of the things the Colonel and I love to do.

Casita de Draper

Our new casita is a ten minute walk from a pristine beach, ancient Mayan ruins, and the best Mexican food on the planet. It is a fifteen minute drive from some of the world’s most exquisite underwater cave diving and less than two hours from thrilling wall drift dives off Cozumel’s southwestern shores. And that’s just for starters. 

The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, our church, is flourishing in that area and represents an instant support group. Most of our neighbors are expats and eager to help us make the transition from gringos to locals. We also welcome the opportunity to move beyond our pidgin Spanish and become fluent conversationalists. 

And finally, the place just feels like home.

Breaking out of the comfort zone

Out of the comfort zone and smiling!

Today a dear friend I dated in high school PM’d me after reading about my latest dive adventure. He asked good naturedly if it was right or fair that someone our age should be having so much fun.   At our age, I replied, we should be accelerating these moments; we should be piling up as many as we can.

Now is not the time to slow down, but to speed things up. Like most people, I’ve frittered away this precious gift of time throughout my life with many things that were utterly meaningless and did not enhance the mortal experience. Now in middle-age time is more precious to me than ever before. About adventures I can no longer say, “I’ll do that later when I have _______,”  (fill in the blank here: more time, when I retire, more money, less stress in my life, when I’m done with school, etc) . To do this –- to make or seize opportunities that may never pass this way again -- requires I get out of my comfort zone.

And, to my utter delight, I have discovered how immensely rewarding it is to experience the world from outside the comfort zone. Take this week, for example.  I'm in north Florida for a few days on a cave diving trip by myself. The "cave diving" part straddles the comfort zone -- I've racked up enough time in deep, dark, water-filled holes in the ground to have a reasonable level of comfort there.The "by myself" part is outside that zone and, so far, I have been richly blessed. 

Cave diving is one of the most high risk types of diving in the scuba world. It is extreme technical diving and we cave divers are notoriously selective about who we trust to enter that subterranean world with us. My “cave sister", my regular and most trusted cave dive buddy, is on a business trip this week. But this is the only week I could get to Florida for a while and I’ve been jonesing for the caves in the worst way. I just couldn't wait for her. So I came alone, trusting that I would find other competent, safe divers to get into a cave with me.

Two days ago I posted to one of the cave diver forums online that I was looking for buddies to dive with this week and -- voila -- my dance card was instantly full. These new dive buddies are taking that same leap of faith I am that each will meet the expectations of the other for safe, skilled cave diving. 

The first dive with a new buddy today did not disappoint.

This morning I dove one of Florida's most beautiful underwater cave systems, a place called Little River, with an excellent diver and new friend, Ricky Dumm. After our initial descent into the underwater cavern zone, we swam through about 1,000 feet of winding tunnels and huge galleries of limestone, sculpted by time and flood into crenellated walls, stone windows, and arches that would be the envy of Byzantium, at a depth of 100 feet, through water so clear you feel like you are floating in air; a wonderland of unspeakable awe few living creatures ever get to see, and doing it all with my new friend who is as besotted with the caves as I. The joy of sharing this experience with a new friend was as grand as the cave itself.

When the walls of your comfort zone resemble the bars of a cage it’s time to break out of them, no matter how intimidating that might seem, and experience the rewarding adventure on the other side. As for me, I am just getting started.

Kristi’s Folly and the search for whalesharks

If I had my way, the little outboard-motor chase boat towed behind the Carpe Vita, as it meandered among the Maldivian atolls, should be rechristened Kristi’s Folly, at least for the duration of our cruise. It certainly deserves a new name in honor of the stunt I pulled on Sunday, and in my mind will forever thus be known.

When I took up scuba diving years ago I made a promise to God that I would honor His Sabbath by not diving on His day. I’d be lying if I said this commitment wasn’t sometimes a test of my faith, though I’ve never wavered. According to some spiritual calculus, logical only to me, I saw my promise as binding God to a protection on the other six days of diving to which I might not otherwise be entitled. That’s why I found myself the only guest staying behind on our floating hotel, the 125-foot safari yacht Carpe Vita, this morning while all the others went out to look for and dive with whalesharks on the dhoni, our 65-foot dive boat and companion vessel to the Carpe Vita.

The dhoni

A sudden squall sprang up while we were anchored in open water and began to pitch and roll the yacht so violently the captain had to move the Carpe Vita to the sheltered waters of a nearby harbor.

I worked on the computer in the salon for a while, posting my homework assignments to my graduate school class website and writing a long email to my husband. The morning passed quietly. 

I was just starting to update my dive log when one of the crew came in and told me the group on the dhoni spotted a whale shark. A couple of the Carpe Vita crew would gladly run me out to the dhoni in the chase boat if I would like to see it.

“Sure”, I said and dashed to my cabin to throw on my swim suit, cover up, and grab my scuba mask. The rest of my gear – fins and snorkel – was on the dhoni. While diving was out on Sunday, I did allow snorkeling; the rationale being the risks involved and protections required are vastly different between snorkeling and scuba diving.

In less than three minutes we were in the chase boat, untied from the mother ship and racing through five foot seas in grey, angry open water. The harbor was so deceptively calm and peaceful; I wasn't prepared for the violence of the seas outside our sheltered oasis. I was scared, but too much of a coward to tell the driver-captain and first mate of the chase boat that I’d changed my mind and to turn around. The little boat bounced violently from wave crest to wave crest, banging down in the troughs so hard I thought I would certainly fly out of the boat and into the drink. Of course there were no seatbelts.

The driver turned to me and asked if I was okay.

“Yes,” I squeaked unconvincingly. And then, still in a voice an octave higher than normal, “Do you do this all the time?” Meaning, do you always drive this little boat this fast in roiling seas?

 He looked at me and smiled. “Oh, not vedy often,” he called out in his sing-song Indian-accented English over the roar of the wind and the boat motor.

Great, I thought, the boat will flip over at the next wave and I will get hit on the head as I’m being thrown into the sea and drown near this atoll whose name I don’t even know. All I could manage in response was to ask how far we were from the dhoni. He pointed straight ahead and I could barely make out the dive boat on the horizon between wave crests. It was disconcertingly small. I hung on grimly, hunched rigidly against the stinging salt spray, and tried not to think about how frightened I was. The first mate just looked at me and grinned. He actually seemed to be enjoying this.

After a twenty minute teeth-rattling pounding we came up to the dhoni tossing on the waves. All the divers were back on board and the whaleshark was long gone. Figures, I thought, disgusted at the futility of this adventure.

The chase boat crew angled in behind the dhoni stern swim platform, the large step from which divers enter the water, so I could just hop from the chase boat onto the dhoni. A good plan, in theory and in calmer water. But in those rough seas it was a clash of the titans between the two boats as the chase boat driver tried to get close to the dhoni swim platform and nearly rammed it in the bargain. Churning seas pitched the two boats first together and then abruptly tore them apart. I was sure the chase boat, the dhoni or both would be wrecked. The two boats maneuvered around each other for long minutes in a violent dance of ocean spray and gunning engines, their captains trying to figure out how best to get me transferred from one boat to the other. It didn’t help that the dhoni’s wheelhouse was closer to the bow than the stern, making communication between the chase boat, the crew at the stern, and the captain a confusing chorus of shouted instructions in rapid-fire Dhivehi.

I had visions of getting caught during the transfer and crushed between the dhoni’s stern and the chase boat’s bow. The faces of my friends aboard the dhoni looked on in helpless amazement.

“Just let me jump in the water and they can throw me a rope!” I yelled to the chase boat captain amid the commotion. In a split second of absolute clarity I knew they would never be able to transfer me safely from one boat directly onto the other. Amid the excitement no one thought that a wiser course would be for the chase boat to come along the dhoni’s port, let me jump overboard and climb up the dhoni’s ladder the same way divers are routinely picked up. Or better yet, abandon the attempt altogether and return me to the Carpe Vita in the chase boat.

The sky was quickly darkening into a deeper grey. The wind plucked at the foaming crests and sent spray stinging into our faces. The weather was only getting worse.

I lost track of how many times the two boat crews tried the risky docking maneuver. Five? Six? This time the bow of the chase boat thudded up onto the swim platform, scattering the crew who came down the steps from the dive deck to help with the transfer, and then slid obediently back into the water. It reminded me of the orca shows at Sea World, where the huge animals lurch out of deep water onto a shallow shelf for a fish reward from their trainer, then slide gracefully back into the water. But there was no applauding crowd here. The situation had already crossed the line from remotely possible to dangerously insane. I was terrified.

After a last failed attempt to bring the little boat up behind the dhoni, the crew agreed to let me jump in the water. The dhoni crew could throw me a line from the stern and haul me aboard. I pulled my scuba mask over my head and down around my neck to free my hands, climbed awkwardly on hands and knees out onto the rolling bow deck and hollered to the crew to tell me when to jump. The boat pitched wickedly again as it backed up to put more water between it and the dhoni. They were as concerned as I about the boats clashing together with me in the roiling water so close to both of them. 

Someone yelled “JUMP!” and I launched myself over the side into a cresting wave. I felt very small and pitiful tossing in the rebellious sea between the two boats, which appeared massive above me from this position. No amount of space between these boats seemed wide enough, and yet I needed to get closer to the dhoni.

I realized at once that being in the water rather than on the chase boat might not have been such a good idea. Wide-eyed and horrified, I watched the stern of the dhoni rise above me three feet out of the water and crash down; smacking the surface with enough force that it felt like someone trained a fire hose on my face.

My friend and self-appointed protector, Bob Whelan, and several of the crew leaned anxiously out over the edge of the dhoni swim platform toward me, powerless to help as again the dhoni’s stern vaulted up menacingly. I watched water stream off the platform in many waterfalls. Some detached part of my brain wondered idly why none of my rescuers were swept off as the platform hurled down and was completely submerged for a few seconds. Abruptly the sea exploded and assaulted me for the second time. I disappeared beneath the surf, gulped a generous helping of sea water and saw nothing until I fought my way back to the surface.

A combination of waves and current widened the distance between me and the dhoni. The chase boat was behind me, but where exactly I couldn’t tell. I only hoped it was nowhere near me; I didn’t need to be caught between these two out of control leviathans, a terrifying rock-and-a-hard-place. For a moment I had the ridiculous thought I might lose my contact lenses.

Another wave, another dunking and I gulped more sea water. I was frightened but, oddly, not panicked. It was the kind of fear that galvanizes one into action. Someone on the dhoni threw me a rope, but it was a couple of yards out of reach. I swam hard until I caught it and hung on. Instead of feeling tension, the rope was spaghetti, coiling and limp in my hands. Too much slack, start reeling me in!, I wanted to shout but couldn’t get the words out. The stern platform again launched violently upward until this time I could almost see the propellers. I imagined myself being sucked underneath it with the full weight of the boat crashing down on my head as it dropped into the next trough.

At last I felt the rope go suddenly taut in my hands. The crew worked urgently to haul me in before the next wave threw the platform back in the air.

The stern shuddered down into a trough and the inevitable flood hit me squarely in the face. Before I was swept under again Bob stretched out over the edge of the platform, grabbed my arm with one hand and heaved on the rope with the other until I came up and out of the water, washing onto the swim step, coughing and sputtering sea water.

Many hands hoisted me to my feet and I staggered up the steps to the dive deck and the stunned faces of my friends. Larry, one of the helpless witnesses to my lunacy, offered me his towel and water bottle as I shook my head to clear it, coughing up more salt water, amazed how I managed to come through this idiocy unscathed. What had I been thinking?  I couldn’t believe what I had just done.

On board the dhoni and
getting the knots out
of my hair.

Welcome aboard, Kristi, I congratulated myself, wide-eyed with astonishment. Strangely, I wasn’t even shaking.

The crew was obviously relieved. I must have given them a fright with that little stunt. My friends apologized I went though such a harrowing experience only to miss out on seeing the whaleshark. But I was not disappointed. I was euphoric just to be here.

Later that evening, back on board the Carpe Vita, conversations at dinner on the upper deck, and afterwards in the salon, ebbed and flowed pleasantly around the day’s events. The excitement of my escapade was already only a footnote in our minds, elbowed out of the spotlight by the thrill of another whaleshark sighting in the afternoon. My misadventure ended without injury and that somehow diminished its peril. It was easy to even joke about it. If someone mentioned the incident I quipped wryly, “What are you talking about? I was on the Carpe Vita the whole time. The woman you hauled out of the drink was just my stunt double.”  

As evening gently faded into a peaceful night, tired, happy and sated, one by one we drifted off to our beds. Soon the only sounds on the Carpe Vita were sundry motors humming their monotonous white noise symphony, the slap slap of small waves lapping against the hull, an occasional indistinct creak, and the soft sing-song conversations in Dhivehi of the crew on watch.

The dhoni was anchored nearby, its crew of four snoring undisturbed in the dive boat’s tiny bunks below the wheelhouse. Twenty-three scuba cylinders sat filled and waiting for tomorrow’s first dive at dawn. The noisy air compressors rested, covered and silent.

And in the moonlit quiet of the protecting harbor Kristi’s Folly rocked contently on her tether behind the Carpe Vita.

Carpe Vita and Kristi's Folly

Cave Women

My cave sister, Eileen, and I usually run into a few other women cave divers on our trips, but not this time. Cave diving is an exceptionally male-dominated, testosterone-driven sport and an all-girl cave team like my buddy and I are a novelty (maybe because our passion for cave diving has nothing to do with testosterone). I would guess it’s a 200:1 ratio; 200 male cave divers for every 1 woman cave diver. 

Last January my friends Riana and Eileen and I dove the caves of Mexico’s Yucatan Peninsula. Our guide, Dennis Weeks, a most excellent cave diving instructor and cave dive guide extraordinaire, surprised us by observing it was his first time guiding an all-woman cave team.

The guys are generally very nice and occasionally even get a kick out of carrying our 4 steel tanks (about 40 pounds each) for us. We never ask for them to do this, of course, but we generally don’t turn down an offer, either. On Saturday at Madison Blue, one of the male cave divers was so amazed to see two women cave divers – two women cave divers old enough to be grandmothers! -- that he eagerly schlepped our tanks for us amid choruses of “thank you so much!” and “wow, you don’t have to do that!”. It made us feel like rock stars.

Dive safe!

Marking a 100th Cave Dive

We tend to measure our path through life with milestones -- markers that represent certain accomplishments for which we can look back at each marker and exclaim "I did this!" 

L-R: Kristi "Reefnut" Draper, Eileen Kennedy, Rich Courtney

My cave sister, Eileen, and I returned last week from another trip to Florida's awesome cave country. On our second dive in the Little River system she completed her 100^th cave dive since earning her cave diving certification. In the cave diving community that’s a big deal. During our decompression stop in 15 feet of water I presented Eileen with a cave-arrow pendant necklace I’d hidden in my thigh pocket before the dive. She was surprised and delighted and wore it proudly the rest of the trip. The local dive shop even advertised Eileen’s milestone dive on their marquee.

The National Speleological Society Cave Diving Section marks this achievement with a special recognition called the Abe Davis Award. Abe Davis was a freed slave in post-Civil War Florida who earned money from spectators by free diving in the Little River cave system. He went in at one entrance, swam through a lightless tunnel, and emerged about 40 to 50 feet away out of another entrance. Quite a feat without even a mask, fins, or underwater light! 

I still have a ways to go to hit that milestone, completing my 44^th post-certification cave dive (96 total cave dives; including 52 training dives) by our last dive of the trip. 

There are old cave divers and bold cave divers. But there are no old, bold cave divers. I dive to be one of the old cave divers.

Dive log: Every Dive is Practice for the Next Dive

We learn more by working through challenges along the way than by having everything go smoothly all the time. Yesterday's cave dive at Ginnie Springs, Florida was a good exercise in basic problem solving underwater...at 87ft...inside a cave.

My buddy, Riana, and I entered in through the Eye, with Riana leading and running the reel from open water. According to our dive plan, we swam along the gold line and she tied off a spool at the line arrow across from the large bolder near the Lips entrance. We tucked and wrapped the line so it wouldn’t be in the middle of the main passage, found the opening to the Lips-ByPass tunnel on the left side of the main passage and wound our way through an impressive labyrinth until connecting to the permanent secondary line. After swimming a bit further, we came to the “T” junction where the passage opened up a bit and placed our cookies on the exit side of the “T”, then dipped into another small tunnel (not on the map) that eventually took us to an opening on the main gold line some distance cave-side from the Park Bench. I called the dive on thirds just before Riana tied into the gold line.

A few minor equipment glitches after we turned the dive made for a good learning experience and solidified my determination to go "back to the drawing board" and tweak my kit some more: A primary light that kept switching off when I twisted and turned (and we did a fair amount of that in the Lips-ByPass), a primary 2nd stage bolt snap that I tangled up with my secondary light clip and got stuck, belt webbing that came completely undone, and a drysuit with too-big feet that I'm still trying to subdue to my will. All challenges that can and will be overcome.

I am thankful for my terrific buddy, Riana, for whom there are no problems – only opportunities; our commitment to the safe cave diving "rule of thirds"; and clear-headed, calm thinking when things don't work quite as planned.

Dive safe!

(Map courtesy of Steve Berman [1998])

Latest cave adventures

Courtesy of Ginnie Springs Outdoors

Thursday, July 22nd

Dive #1. Went in through the Ear this time, Eileen led. I took it slowly to be kinder to my poor ears. We regrouped on the little shelf near the Grim Reaper sign then proceeded into the cave. Eileen tied off at Park Bench and we proceeded down the tunnel to the Bone Room. At the dogleg in the Bone Room, Eileen tied off and we swam down to the White Room. I can see why it got its name; the silt/sand on the floor is very white and there is a little breakdown pile of while rocks in the middle of the room. It’s just a big round domed dead end, but it was very cool because it was the first time I've been in it. I must have been pretty relaxed on this dive because Eileen turned the dive before I hit my 1/3 limit. She was setting a brisk pace going in and at one point I signaled for her to slow up a bit and let me catch up.

Route to White Room. Map by Steve Berman (1998)

At the Key Hole on the way in she waited for me while I swam around to the right; the path that is easier on my poor ears. There were other divers going through the Key Hole and I just waited to let them pass and watched for Eileen to come through and resume the lead.

On the way back I paused after the Key Hole, looking for Lips swim under passage. I signaled to Eileen that I wanted to go under the Lips and she OK'd the entrance. "Are you sure?", I thought as I proceeded cautiously into the hole. I knew it was only about 4 - 5 feet of tunnel, so I started looking right as I swam through and, sure enough, I spotted our landmark -- the 5lb weights hanging from the gold line. Cool!

We opted to exit via Devil's Eye. There were several guidelines running into it and a few divers making their way into the cave. Exiting divers always have the right-of-way, so I proceeded out and tried not to get tangled up in their guidelines. As soon as I could see by the ambient light, I turned off and stowed my primary light and slowly worked my way up to the cave entrance, using one of the non-traditional routes. I got cold on this dive, probably because I didn't have a good enough breakfast. But it was a lovely dive!

Beyond this point there are no accidents, only deaths

Dive #2. Went in through the Ear again. I led and we regrouped on the shelf near the Grim Reaper sign at the edge of the cavern zone. I think my air consumption is not as good when I'm leading. Maybe it's just the additional task of being the trail blazer that increases my respirations. I know I didn't do as well as I should have on this one. Again, the swim around at the Key Hole for me on account of my poor ears, and a nice run up the gold line to the Rollercoaster jump, noting the other jumps along the way (Park Bench, Hill 400, Expressway Tunnel). I hit my planned turn pressure at the Rollercoaster jump (actually I had miscalculated and my turn pressure should have been 2300). We did the Lips swim under again. For most of the way out I swam with my primary light shining straight up at the ceiling. I enjoyed watching Eileen's silhouette in the passage and me staying in the shadows.

What a lovely dive! And I was warm this time.

Route to Rollercoaster jump. Map by Steve Berman (1998).

Gas (psi)
Start = 3400
Turn plan = 2400
Turn actual = 2400
End = 1800

Depth
Turn = 92 ft

Time
Turn = 22 minutes
End = 46 minutes

Friday, July 23rd

Dive #1. Great dive to Maple Leaf. Eileen led in through the Ear. I was calm and relaxed on this dive and even took the opportunity to look around more, something I don't do much of on the penetration phase of the dive. I'm usually so focused on just getting as far as I can before I have to turn the dive. It only took about 200 psi to go from Rollercoaster to Maple Leaf and I was still 100 psi from my planned turn pressure when we hit Maple Leaf. It is odd to think that we were three football field lengths from the cave entrance. If there was an emergency, we'd have to swim more than 900 feet before we could get to a place where we could surface. This is why cave divers carry in loads of redundant gear and why we get so much specialized training. I appreciate even more my training and my great dive buddy, Eileen. This was my first time getting this far up the gold line!

Route to MapleLeaf. Map by Steve Berman (1998).

Again, I swam around the Key Hole on the way in and on the way back we did the Lips swim under. I think this is quickly becoming a standard part of every dive plan now. It's heaps of fun and helps make the dive even more interesting than it already is.

A wonderful dive. This system is so beautiful!

Gas (psi)
Start = 3500
Turn plan = 2400
Turn actual = 2500
End = 1800??

Time @ turn = 22 (22 minutes to swim/pull/glide 900 feet!)

Depth @ turn = 90ft

Dive #2. My first big dive in sidemount. We did the Ginnie Ballroom cavern and spent a lot of time going through a nice little restriction off to the left of the main guideline. I was so frustrated at first because I could not get the tanks attached to the rails and my submersible pressure gauges (SPGs) were sticking out in either side like a couple of insect antennae. But I did manage, even though I was listing slightly the entire dive (I later discovered it was because the bungee on one side of the wing was not properly connected). I felt much better about the rig than I thought I would feel. And I'll feel a whole lot better once I make a few modifications.

Saw quite a few fresh water eels swimming around inside the cavern. Very cool.

Friday, July 24th 

Route to ParkBench. Map by Steve Berman (1998)

Dive #1. Wow! What a difference "just going for it" makes! My first cave dive in sidemount! I was a little nervous because there is no one set right way of doing things with sidemount -- unlike with backmount. So the apprehension about the unknown was causing me some discomfort. But Eileen was very positive and wouldn't let me get discouraged. At first I only wanted to go in the Eye and down to the Grim Reaper sign, but if I felt OK then I would go into the Gallery. If okay at the Gallery, I would go through the Lips, etc. The Park Bench was as far as we were going to take this dive, regardless.

I led in and felt really good at the Grim Reaper, then spider-crawled sideways through the Gallery and discovered it was much easier than the traditional way we pull and glide wearing backmount. We got to the Lips and I checked my pressure, switched regs, and signaled OK to Eileen and let's proceed. I'm sure she was grinning so much her mask was flooding.

The Lips is two bedding planes we swim between.

On to the Lips! We encountered a cave class between the Lips and Keyhole and watched them for a while before moving on around them. I did my little swim around the Keyhole, as usual, and waited for Eileen on the other side of the Keyhole. No problem there, so onward to the Park Bench. At this point I was still well before my planned turn pressure of 2400, but thumbed the dive because we had achieved our objective. After enthusiastic "high fives" we turned and headed back.

This time Eileen took the Lips swim around and I waited on the cave-side gold line for her to signal she'd picked up the gold line on the exit side. I could see the lights through the Keyhole from the cave class still going strong in that area, but no direct light from Eileen. So I proceeded up through the Keyhole and started looking for another sidemount diver amongst the half dozen or so divers in the vicinity. She was close by the Keyhole switching her necklace from one reg to another and looking for me to come up through the Keyhole swim around.

Park Bench formation. First marked jump.

We regrouped and resumed our places on the gold line, watching the cave class for a few more minutes until they cleared off, then we took our, now standard, Lips swim under route. Going through the rest of the Lips I deliberately chose the places with the lower ceiling -- places where I didn't think I could get through in backmount. It was very pleasant to get through so easily in sidemount.

Configurations that worked well:
1. Light canister mounted below butt plate under crotch strap with quick links. I didn't even notice the canister the entire dive! This is the Jill Heinerth method. Very comfortable.
2. SPGs on inside HP port. Very easy to read and not in the way.
3. Swivel on short hose second stage.
4. Run light cord under waistband and chest strap. Decreases the likelihood of getting caught on something.
5. Wide bands on tanks. Did a good job keeping excess hose length under control. Easy to re-stow the hose after I’d pull it out.
6. Using yellow reg and hose for left tank. Longer hose helpful as opposed to the short hose I use when rigged for backmount.
7. REMs and arrows on top right shoulder D-ring.
8. Not using small yellow LED light on LP inflator hose.
9. Instead of cave line to tie on bolt snaps, use small zip tie and tank valve O-ring. Much faster and you don't have to burn your fingers melting the ends of the cave line. Can be easily pulled off in case of an entanglement. No need to whip out the Z-knife. Yet it's very secure and sturdy.

Configurations that still need some work:
1. Longer lanyard on rail clip. I'm still having too much trouble clipping the tanks to the rails.
2. Shorter necklace so I can reach the reg just by bending my head down and grabbing the mouthpiece with my mouth.
3. Shorter long hose. 5' instead of 7’ ought to do it.
4. For reel attachment point: Move butt D-ring down on butt plate to just above cross over strap. I could reach them where the D-ring was on this dive, but it was not as easy as it should be.
5. Orient tank harness so hand wheels are pointing outward, instead of inward.
6. Get shock cord keepers for backup lights (remove epaulets?) on each shoulder.
7. Get smaller/more streamlined backup lights. Other cave divers were making fun of my bulky UK lights.
8. Z-knife on computer wrist strap or more securely on chest strap.
9. Adjust cam straps so velcro is facing away from me. My leg kept rubbing up against strap and the velcro would stick to my wetsuit instead of the cam strap.

An excellent confidence-building first sidemount cave dive. I do believe I'm going to really like sidemounting a lot more than backmounting.

I forgot to set the Vyper to EAN32. It was reading air. The Aladin computer was set to the correct gas (EAN32) and did not show a deco obligation. So I incurred an unearned 10 minutes of decompression by the time we got to our safety stop. Oops. So we waited and I spent part of the extra time practicing my spider crawling along the sides of the walls. I wouldn't have bothered to satisfy the deco if this had been the last dive of the trip. But we are making one more this evening, and I didn't want to lock out my only backup computer because I'd blown a deco stop.

Dive #2. Back into the backmount rig for one last dive of the trip. The dive plan was to explore the Catacombs and try to find route that links the exit side (nearest the cave entrance) to the cave side gold line in the Gallery. There are no permanent lines in the Catacombs and we had only a general idea of where we were going. It was quite exhilarating as we felt like cave explorers diving a virgin system.

Route through Catacombs. Map by Steve Berman (1998)

Eileen led in the Eye because she has the Salvo reel with 300' of line, just in case this ended up being a really involved labyrinth. She got a bit stalled in a silty restriction, but like a bloodhound on the trail of a rabbit, she picked up the scent and after paying out about 150' of line, found the gold line and tied off. She didn't even have to backtrack once! What amazing navigation! After some dancing around and high fives, we continued through the Gallery deeper into the cave for just a bit so Eileen could fix the Catacombs Gallery exit. There are three. We emerged onto the gold line into the Gallery from the first exit (nearest the cave exit, but still in the Gallery).Our route through the Catacombs is the line between the two red dots.

We turned the dive at the Lips and switched positions when we got back to her Salvo reel so I could reel up and she could sight see ahead of me on the way back through the Catacombs. This place just begs for more exploration and I can't wait to return and oblige. There are many more twisty-turny passages than shown on this map. This is also an easy sidemount dive. The Catacombs are really very beautiful. Small and potentially very silty for the careless diver, but very interesting to explore.

I am looking forward to feeling as comfortable and natural in sidemount as I do now in backmount.

Next cave dive trip is Mexico in September!