After leaving the cave and braving the mild churn that tossed us around a little bit in the cove, we were back out in the open water gawking at the ocean floor like a couple of starry-eyed mainland tourists, marveling at this undersea forest that we didn’t even know existed earlier this morning.
We continued along the coastline until we reached a giant pillar of rock that emerges from the ocean floor about 30 or 40 yards from the shore. It looked like the coral extended out past this giant outcropping, so we decided to swim around it to see what was hiding behind this massive hunk of lava. About halfway around Beth commented that she wished she could see better, as she was wearing tiny goggles that covered only her eyes, and they kept fogging up. I was wearing my usual full mask and snorkel, and said “I would loan you mine so you can see better, but I would die out this far without my gear!”
Well, it was not a minute after I said that that I started experiencing problems with my snorkel. It has what is called a “purge valve” right in front of the mouthpiece. On this particular snorkel, the purge valve consists of a flexible piece of clear plastic about the size of a nickel that is held in place by a plastic nipple that is about as big as the tip of a ballpoint pen. If water comes in through the top of the snorkel the valve allows you to exhale forcibly though your mouth and send the water through the valve without letting any back in. Sometimes things get stuck in the valve, especially sand, which is what I suspect happened after I set my gear down on the ground while we were exploring the cave just a few minutes before. Sand causes the valve to leak and take in a little bit of water with every breath, which was what was happening now.
Unfortunately, while trying to clear the sand, the clear plastic piece vanished without a trace into the vast ocean, off to join the island of plastic (which is now the size of north America, check it out at: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z7rNYzSH-BA).
Without that stupid, coin-sized piece of plastic my snorkel effectively became a 1 inch diameter drinking straw, taking in only water instead of air. I seriously thought that I was screwed, having never been this far from shore without my snorkel before. Don’t get me wrong, I am a strong, fast swimmer, with all of my gear in place, but I have an unfortunate inability to turn my head and breathe when doing the “front crawl” stroke (freestyle).
I know that I need to learn how to do it eventually, especially so I can avoid situations such as this, but when we first started this daily practice I was much more interested in building up my strength and stamina in the water than I was in improving my breathing technique. After a while, I just got used to doing it this way, that, and as much as I would love to spend enough time at the beach each morning to both get my exercise and practice my technique, I have only been making time for one.
Anyway, so here I am, about half a mile from a place where we can safely get out of the water, and I am without my life support system. In spite of my earlier comment about dying, I was not really afraid for my life, but I knew that this half mile was going to be harder for me than any of the others I had swam over the last few months.
My trip back to the shore was an erratic one. I tried swimming my usual stroke while holding my breath and coming up for air occasionally, which didn’t really work because I wasn’t getting enough oxygen to keep that up. I tried swimming like I am supposed to, turning my head and breathing, but I kept getting water in my mouth, which I suppose you get used to eventually, but I wasn’t really digging it this morning. I tried swimming the breaststroke, which allows me to keep my head above water and breathe, but mine is so slow compared to my usual stroke it is frustrating, especially not being able to keep up with Beth. My journey home consisted of a combination of these three strokes, with an occasional flip over to float on my back and rest. Ultimately I made it back to shore in one piece, if not a little flustered.
I think the most disappointing thing about this little adventure besides having to end our reef exploring journey early was the reminder that even though I go to the beach and swim every morning, I still can’t really swim. What I do is great for exercise, I am losing weight, gaining muscle, strength, and stamina, but none of these really matter in a life threatening situation if you are so dependent on a coin-size piece of plastic to make it all work.
I guess I am stuck with my “training wheels” at least for now, until I make the time to learn how to swim properly, but eventually they will have to come off. Perhaps this will have to happen the same way my real ones had to when I was five. I was perfectly content riding my bike up and down the street with the trainers on, but my mom threatened to take my bike back to the store if I didn’t learn how to ride my bike like a big boy. Hopefully it won’t come down to that! Beth hasn’t got a threatening bone in her body, and it would be a long flight for my mom to come out here and yell at me!