For me, every dive is a milestone. One year ago today, I was in hospital during an agonising three week stint; I had just been moved from the Intensive Care Unit after two major surgeries in less than a week. I was connected to morphine, drips and all manner of drains, and I refused to even look at the two dozen staples down my abdominal mid-line and the infected, gaping wounds between them. (Actually, I didn’t muster the courage to sneak a peak until a month after I got home … those wounds took over five months to heal…)
Yesterday, I celebrated Dive 250 – on the first day of winter! Usually the carpark of Blairgowrie Pier is crowded with divers, but my best buddy LP and I had the pier all to ourselves – and with good reason … the water was 14 degrees celcius (57 Farenheit)! When I confess that I don’t yet own a drysuit, you will understand that this was a pain entirely self-inflicted.
To be honest, the visibility wasn’t great and there wasn’t a lot to see: a few small fish, a couple of nudibranchs and a very small stingray right at the end of the dive. Even so, a cold dive for 70 mins will always be more fun than five minutes on land (or three excruciating weeks in hospital!)
After being thoroughly dive-deprived for the last two weekends, even a dive without any spectacular photos or video feels like heaven on earth to me. Every breath – whether on land or underwater – is definitely a gift to be celebrated!
Love and bubbles,