On board

Spewingly delivered to Ko Tao on a bucking catamaran, I started my rescue diver course that same day.  A tough three days mastering in water and boat rescues, managing whatever emergencies Lance and Paul dreamed up, babysitting them underwater as they dekitted, turned their masks upside down, over inflated their BCDs, swam with their fins on their hands and climbed on each other while turning off tanks. 

Thoroughtly exhausted but keen to resume fun diving again, I landed in Khao Lak and boarded a three-day liveaboard the following evening headed for the Surins and famed Richelieu Rock.  A chockers dive deck, an IDC course running concurrently and staff who out of the water were more interested in themselves and flirting with each other than their paying customers made for an average boat experience.  My dive buddy - singular - the other customers and the stunning diving made up for the lackluster staff.

Along with two jaw-dropping tanks on Richelieu, night diving in biolumiscent plankton were highlights.  Putting my torch against my wetsuit after ensuring I wouldn't crash into corals, urchins, divers, I flailed about underwater like a panicked diver as the sea sparkled and cometed around me.

A rest, ketchup day in Khao Lak with some beach buds before a downpour escorted us the 30 minute walk home.  Onto Phuket tomorrow to catch a plane to Chiang Mai. 

A wee reward for a 7 am boat 

Throwing assist

 Rescue breathing on Lance

Carrying Paul up the ladder - and it's a tall boat

 Ko Tao from the sea

 En route to a dive site in the Surins

 I'm on a boat!

 Gemma and I during a surface interval

 Setting sun in the Surins

 Gemma, Roger and I back on solid ground

Motion of the ocean

The highlight of being evicted by American college freshmen on a springbreak shark course was my bed in our new lodgings that hung from the ceiling in a corner of the sitting room. Octagonally shaped, four industrial-strength chains suspend it as a paper mache bird with tasteful glitter accents looks on.



When not housing seven female biologists, the apartment is rented out to vacationing Americans and my bed is without a doubt a clumsy, oversized sex swing for the boozy, sun-burned holiday makers.

The volunteers' role for the course is one of support for the staff. We help out with the students' kick-ass sea trip as bait cutters and throwers, counter balance in the boats, hand holders, shark handelers, sous chefs, where ever we're needed.

Yesterday I helped out with blacktip baiting and lemon feeding. The latter I did little more than set an anchor and make rude jokes with the staff at the back while the students fed the lemons in a mangrove-lined channel.

I was pulled away from the calm of the channel and Jim, Jon and I started baiting for blacktips. While the steady high winds and equally large seas on the east side of North Bimini made this a difficult and queasy stomach inducing task we were quickly rewarded with 18 blacktips. One was even so kind to jump clear out of the water giving us a quick glimpse of its beautiful body.

I switched boats to help out with the blacktips. The Twin Vee is no Cadillac of the ocean, but she is significantly more comfortable than the 17' skiff I rode in on the way back. How I didn't spew is still a great mystery.