Diving Blind
Elizabeth Arps
As I jumped off the dive boat into one of the best reef areas in the world, the Rasdu atoll in the Maldives, I could hardly contain my excitement. I had fallen in love with scuba diving in coral reef a few weeks earlier while in Thailand because of the unique perspective and insight it gave me to the deep underwater world. I began my descent into the water and focused on clearing my ears as I fell deeper and deeper. I was struggling to swim against the current when my right eye went blurry. My contact had fallen out. The same thing had happened yesterday in the same eye, and while annoying, it did not hinder my dive too much. I was just getting settled at our lowest depth when my left eye went blurry. Oh no, now both of my contacts were out.
I made myself breathe slowly while I tried to figure out what to do. Going up to put them back in was not an option because I would lose my group, but the contacts were cruelly teasing me inside my mask, just inches from my eyes. I could see them sitting there. I pushed my mask hard into my face, trying desperately to make contact with them again, but this only led to a painful mask squeeze. As a last resort, I stuck a finger into my mask thinking there would be a slight chance I could put them back in that way. Of course, this resulted in my mask flooding and salt water burning my eyes. I realized I was not going to get them back in, but I needed to tell someone so that they knew that. Floundering around sharks and poisonous creatures while essentially diving blind was not a good idea, and I began to get nervous. I pointed to my eyes and tried to do an outward motion. I could not tell if the dive instructor understood what I meant because I could not see his facial response.
I decided to give up on communicating, and instead become his shadow so as not to be separated from the group. I felt extremely vulnerable in the depths of the ocean not being able to see anything more than six inches away from me. The instructor began pointing things out to me, which he had not done on previous dives. I would get close, act like I saw the supposed animal, and then nod my head. In reality all I was seeing were blurry shapes, colors, and movements. I could not discern one fish from another, let alone identify them or take observations on their behavior. The one shape I was able to make out was a medium sized shark nearby with its mouth gaping open. Since I was already feeling quite defenseless, it was not very encouraging to see this in close proximity. No one else reacted, so I fed off their energy and let it go.
Here I was in one of the best dive sites in the world and I couldn’t see a damn thing. Thank goodness I had never lost a contact at Nelson’s Ledges back in rural Ohio and missed any of the silty beauty there! I kept close watch on my dive computer, praying that the dive would end soon so I could get on the boat and see again. When we finally surfaced, the instructor said, “Liz, I showed you an octopus!” I had to explain that I had not seen any octopus. Everyone else began recounting what they had been seeing, and I realized the full extent of what I had missed. I tried to laugh it off, but I was too busy feeling sorry for myself.
We went snorkeling after the dive at a shallow reef, and my contacts stayed in the entire time. I saw a lot of fish diversity and more different kinds of species than I had previously seen on other dives. It lifted my mood and hopes for the second dive of the day. I assumed that because my contacts had stayed in for the snorkel, the same would be true for the dive. At exactly four minutes into the second dive, both contacts had blinked out of my eyes. I was naturally aggravated at my luck, but realized I had an advantage on this dive. I had dove without contacts once before and I knew that I could do it again. I spent the entirety of the dive trying to observe all the blurry things I was seeing instead of being constantly worried and upset. It was then that I realized that I could see things, even if they weren’t in detail. I made out the outlines of two sharks and a sea turtle throughout the dive. I also was able to pick up on schooling behaviors that I had been ignoring before in my earlier frustration.
The whole diving episode was a bit like the experience of seeing a Bollywood movie in Hindi while in India. I could not understand a word that the actors were saying, but I managed to read into the plot by closely observing body language. Similarly, I was able to observe the ocean in a foreign light, without my detailed vision. While neither situation is ideal for the experience at hand, both are manageable.
When I surfaced and others asked how my dive was, I sadly admitted that my contacts had fallen out again. For a few moments I fought back teary eyes, but I realized I needed to stop dwelling on the negative. I changed my attitude and decided that I should expect my contacts to come out on dives and if they don’t I should be surprised. After all, a number of other people had been having trouble diving and could not go at all; I was able to dive, just not as I would have wanted.
I dove the next day without issue and had the single best dive of my life. I think this was only possible because I was hyper-aware in observing because I was expecting not to be able to see at any given moment. I was able to have full use of my vision for the entirety of the last dive in the Maldives, but as amazing as it was, the better story exists because of what I didn’t see.