JP/13/Bunaken

JP/13/Bunaken

Hey dude, where's my air tank?

Learning to dive is especially memorable when you're in one of
the world's top-diving spots. Writer Chris Holm takes the plunge
in a PADI course at Bunaken Island's Bastianos diving resort.

Sitting on the top of the rocking boat, as we powered to where
we would begin our diving course, I felt a little apprehensive.
Later under a palm tree, I relaxed on the sand and looked at the
course's fat instruction manual. Full of colorful, inviting
pictures, diagrams and dive tables, it also looked like a lot of
work.

Then there were the horror stories that inevitably bobbed to
the surface of my mind after years of vicariously watching
underwater adventures on the Discovery Channel, episodes of
Jacques Costeau's Underwater World and sea scenes from old James
Bond movies. The cold, swift undercurrents that threaten to drag
you down 70 meters to your new, permanent home in Davy Joneses'
locker; the equipment malfunctions that could leave you inhaling
guppies rather than compressed air; those murderous, submerged
Russians on your slippery tail with spear-guns; the slight coral
scratches that could turn into shark banquets, and, most scarily
of all, those orb-like steel decompression chambers that invite
you into the agonizing world of the bends; when you surface too
quickly, blow out your eardrums and your blood turns into
strawberry fizz.

Looking at the PADI "the way the world learns to dive" Open
Water Course Manual again, I realized that even if I managed to
cheat underwater death, dismemberment, or a just general mass
fish-gouging, there were still around five days of practical
physical exercises, and some of them looked tricky -- a 200-meter
unaided swimming test for one -- and worst of all, you had to
actually learn things -- all while on holiday. Most importantly,
would there be enough time to lie on the beach and drink the
requisite amount of beer?

I worried, but not for long. Of course, it did help that I and
my two other novice dive-buddies, one equally anxious New
Zealander and his more laid-back Japanese girlfriend, were
staying at a relaxing and tidy resort, Bastianos on a beautiful
tropical island, which, I might add, is also renowned for
boasting some of the best reef diving in the world.

The isle in question, Bunaken, is a white sandy jewel off the
coast of North Sulawesi. With volcanic origins, it's undersea
environment is unusual in that it lacks the normal continental
plate that sits between the ocean depths and the land, creating
long coral shelves that can drop a hundred meters as the ocean
floor plummets to more than a kilometer undersea. These massive
organisms are teaming with life; home to thousands of fish
species of the expected multicolored, googly-eyed variety, along
with even more unusual critters -- beak-faced giant sea turtles,
malevolent-looking-but-harmless reef sharks and, of course, the
blob-ish manatee, or dugong; the strange, shy sea cow that
sailors of old thought were mermaids.

With all this marine life, it helps that Bunaken is also home
to arguably the most successful conservation program in
Indonesia. Set up in the late 1990s with local and international
cooperation, the scheme has locals manage and police the marine
park and has successfully stopped most of the dynamiting and
over-fishing practices that were once degrading the island's
tourism potential, the money made from the tourists now spread
responsibly around the local community. Of course, there is
development on the island, in the form of diving resorts
springing up, but local rules and slow tourism here during the
past few years have ensured these resorts are being managed in a
reasonably sustainable manner and are not overcrowding the island
-- yet.

All this augured well for a great learning experience, and I
pushed my lingering doubts to the back of my mind. Who cared that
I could barely swim 100 meters without fins and a wetsuit. I had
done a fair bit of snorkeling before, so diving, I reasoned,
couldn't be that much different.

The upbeat PADI course materials also did their best to
reassure me, in between useful diving theory and their pretty
underwater images. "Get informed" was the main message; learn and
follow the basic undersea rules and you too can dive safely and
responsibly. However, I do admit to being worried that this
uniformly chirpy tone could drive me to the point of sea-
sickness.

Watching the instructional videos, as we regularly did in our
studies, every girl diver looks like they have just stepped out
of a California gym and every guy has a big, maniacal grin, a
goatie beard, along with probably a mountain bike and a spare
bungy cord stashed somewhere in the back of his four-wheel-drive
One of the things that PADI taught me, apart from the mechanics
of scuba, is that diving is a truly marketable commodity, a world
of high-fiving, black slapping, adjective-mangling, boundless
enthusiasm; a lifestyle, not just a recreational sport - and be
sure to buy up your own equipment from the PADI dive shop and
check out the firm's other courses. Exposed to this sensory, buy-
product build-up for long enough and any cynicism begins to ebb,
the joie de la mer becomes infectious and you start to feel a
little dizzy, something, I imagine, a bit akin to nitrogen
narcosis (a deep-water danger, I must mention, you are extremely
unlikely to encounter on an open water dive).

Out on the water, however, things were a lot more down-to-
earth. The Bastianos crew kept their boats in good order and
their equipment was clean and functioned. One of the good things
about the PADI course, is that it is audited regularly by
international observers. In the often cut-throat diving world
where unaccredited diving schools vie for the lowest dollar by
scrimping on maintenance and safety to save costs, you can rest
assured that resorts offering PADI courses will be up to basic,
international standards.

In the end, my biggest fear, the 200-meter swim to qualify to
learn how to dive was a breeze, and after about an hour and a
half of being administered oxygen on the boat I was sufficiently
recovered and ready to put on the scuba equipment.

From then on, from three or four meters, down to our eventual
18 below as certified open water divers, our dive instructor
Frangkie initially tried valiantly to keep with "Hey dude,
where's my air-tank" vibe as-seen-on-video vibe but later became
a lot more likable, and human, when he admitted to occasional
bouts of grumpiness because of a lingering head-cold.

A Bunaken Island boy who had gone to the big smoke of Manado
across the water to learn his craft, Frangkie did a fine job of
teaching us what we needed to know and was professional and
friendly about it too.

The one obvious advantage about learning to dive in a tropical
lagoon rather than a swimming, is the setting, among coral reefs
and little fish, which means even the most mundane exercises are
a lot more interesting than in a swimming pool. It also prepares
you for other things, slight currents and eddies can unbalance
you, so your learning environment is much closer to what you end
up discovering on your open dives when you get to practice the
skills you've learned. The only downside to learning to dive at
resort I can figure, is that on occasion the other more-
experienced divers, who float nonchalantly past you, get to see
you drown in your bubbles, flapping your arms like a spastic and
rolling around in the water, as you try to master exercises like
neutral buoyancy or taking off and putting on your weight-belt.

And under the water, I realized that all this outgoing body
language on the surface did have a point. Diving is one of the
few places in the world, like loud rock concerts and bass-heavy
night clubs, where the signing deaf have a definite advantage
over the hearing, and hand signals are the order of the day. The
"I'm out of air, I want to share yours" signs are pretty
important in the rare event that your scuba apparatus may fail,
although the PADI book does not have the appropriate signage for
"Hey, look behind you, there is a gi-normous groper making a
beeline for your bum."

There are also no signs that can adequately describe the
feeling when sliding down the side of a huge reef, you see your
first giant turtle; manta ray or black-tipped reef shark, as a
huge school of bat fish hang above you like a luminous diamond.
In my last underwater dives, finally with the freedom to cruise
in my new environment, I began to understand the rapturous looks
on the faces of those PADI video jockeys. Diving, while it may
not be better than sex, is certainly as good as a few beers on
the beach.

HOW TO GET THERE:

Flights from Denpasar and Jakarta to Manado start from
around Rp 1.5 million and run daily with Garuda and Lion Air, the
two main carriers.

Most resorts on the island will transport you for free from
Manado Airport to Bunaken Island.

WHERE TO STAY:

Bastianos Diving Resort is near the wharf on Bunaken
Island's beach is clean and large with nice rooms, some of which
are right on the beachfront. Accommodation starts from around
US$15 dollars a night if you are on a diving package, $20 if you
are just soaking up the island's ambience. Five-day PADI Open
Water Diving Courses begin at about $315. And the resort offers
more advanced courses and a range of open water dives including
night dives, wreck and muck diving.