The year was 1977. A 44lb 9oz lobster was caught off Nova Scotia, ABBA’s Dancing Queen was a No. 1 hit, Elvis died, the rings of Uranus were discovered, Star Wars opened in cinemas, caftans and ponchos were in fashion along with flared trousers, I took a scuba diving course in B.C.’s Okanagan Lakes and got my diving certificate.  

Through the winter months, I spent hours studying, acquiring the required skills in swimming pools, hauling my equipment-laden self into a none-too-warm lake and, along with the rest of the class, invested a great deal of time, effort and money in becoming a competent, well-equipped diver. It was not without its misery, as when the frigid lake water seeped into my wetsuit and the unforgettable feeling of being hit across the forehead with an iron bar as the cold found my sinuses. Soon, however, the water trapped in the wetsuit would warm and exploration of the lake bottom would take my mind off the previous discomforts. 

Some dives yielded old cabin trunks looming through the gloomy water, which had been shoved out on the frozen lakes in years gone by and when the ice melted they sank to the bottom. For a diver, it was a treasure trove of old-style liniment bottles, white and blue glass apothecary and canning jars. Trips to B.C.’s coast opened up underwater vistas of incredible sea life. But, a year of 'round-the-world travel to prime dive sites was the proverbial icing on the cake. While I was diving, my two daughters, Karen, 7, and Julia, 9, were there and, whenever they could, took to the water snorkelling.

Fast-forward 30-odd years. My dive gear and interest in diving waned years ago, and the nearest I get to water now is on a sailboat. The children are women and have long since embarked on their own careers and activities, and live in different parts of the world. They both took up scuba diving a few years ago, and have gone diving together.

On a recent visit with Julia, now a diving instructor in the Cayman Islands, it was expected that I would go diving. Now, this sounded possible: warm water, abundant sea life, easy water access, and readily available equipment. But, was I up for it, I wondered? I felt obligated after lugging Julia around the world while I did nothing but dive, and it would feel like a cop out if I didn’t at least try it. There was nothing but encouragement from all quarters for me to go diving again - what a wonderful experience and opportunity, how exciting!

I am usually quite active, but in the past year dealing with aging parental issues, I had let regular physical exercise lapse. I thought: What if my knees give out while I’m trying to stand up with that tank strapped to my back? I wasn’t much worried about being underwater, or diving, or getting into the water, mostly it was whether or not I had the strength to manoeuvre out of the water, and whether I had the stamina to dive again.

I packaged up my anxieties, told everyone who’d listen about them, and then I went for it. Before heading out, we did a pool session where I got used to the equipment and reawakened my diving skills. As an instructor, Julia was clear, patient, calm and inspired confidence in me. I was quite buoyed up and ready to tackle a real dive, off a boat, and looked forward to being in those wondrous tropical waters again.

My original scuba certification is still valid, but I thought I’d give myself an extra challenge and take the entire course again - this time from my daughter. I purchased the books and equipment and started in on the studying, watched the DVD and talked endlessly with Julia about diving. I got myself worked up, as I would mentally go through manoeuvres that I’d need to do to become qualified. All of a sudden, I turned this anticipated recreational mother/daughter dive holiday into a mutually desirable but challenging project for both of us.

It never crossed my mind to think of my instructor as a novice diver, or myself as an experienced one. We were both divers with lots of experience, but one of us had had a 30-year hiatus. As the intensely dive-focused visit went on, we dove together from boats and the shore - in rough waters and calm. I was put through my paces and passed all the requirements for my diving certification. I must admit I did experience some anxieties as I contemplated the next day’s required skills, but once in the water, and doing them, I was fine.

Eventually, the pair of us swam easily together, marvelling at the prolific reef life, taking photos and sharing a passion that had begun some 30 years ago. Those years fell away and it was as if time had telescoped us both into the same dimension, two women, two divers, both in love with what we were doing and feeling privileged to be able to do it together as equals.

 
Observations:
Fifty per cent of the divers on the boats I was on were 50+ years of age.
The oldest person Renee of Cayman Diving School took out was 86 years old.
With assistance from dive boat staff, diving is made easy and convenient.
The equipment is still ungainly but the payoff is being weightless in that magical underwater world.
Diving equipment now comes in various sizes, when I started it was all one size - man size!
Corrective lenses for goggles can be popped into a mask in no time.
All equipment is more sophisticated, but essentially the same.
Rental equipment is readily available, but if you’re going to scuba dive regularly it’s best to have your own so you can get used to it.
The dive course was as exacting and thorough as the one I took originally.
My knees didn’t give out.

Websites:
www.caymanislands.ky
www.caymandivingschool.com

JANUARY 2011 SENIOR LIVING MAGAZINE VANCOUVER ISLAND