Fisheries Unit Scuba Training

It looked like I might finally get a chance to do some scuba diving. In September 1976 the Canadian government provided the Fisheries Unit with a grant for the purchase of scuba diving equipment. Peace Corps Volunteer Howard and I put together a "wish list" of US$10,000 worth of U.S. Divers Professional scuba gear. The list included tanks, harnesses, regulators, weight belts, facemasks, fins, flashlights, catch bags, wet suits, a Nikonos III camera and an air compressor.

Of the Fisheries staff, only Howard and Silvano were certified divers, and Silvano would be leaving soon. He got a job with the newly formed Belizean Airways Limited. BAL had five Boeing 707-720 planes that they bought for a total of US$1,000,000, including a 132-passenger airliner, one cargo plane, and three "junkers" that they cannibalize for spare parts. After making only one flight, a truck at the Belize International Airport ran into BAL's only operable passenger plane and tore a hole in the fuselage. So, BAL did not start regular service to Miami as scheduled.

The scuba gear arrived in April 1977, and Mr. Miller contacted the British Army at the small garrison adjacent to the airport to see if they would provide training for us. The British Army initially told Mr. Miller that they could not spare the personnel to train us, but later indicated that they were willing to conduct training for us beginning in late June. It would be an abbreviated training course and would not include certification, but it would be sufficient for what we may be doing in the immediate future.

On July 4, our scuba diving instruction began. Two British soldiers, Paul and Mick, came out to the Fisheries laboratory to lecture us. Paul, English and clean shaven, was a sergeant and seemed to be in charge. He was a pleasant and capable young man, 28 years old, and had been in the Army for 11 years. He was engaged to a Belize girl and planned to remain in Belize to live when he got out of the service in three months. His partner, Mick, was a redheaded Scotsman with a closely cropped full beard and a thick accent. They both seemed delighted to be away from their regular duties.

The scuba training was for the benefit of Janet, Colin, Denton, Jen, Romi and me. Howard, who was already a certified diver, would be participating as a refresher course. Jen was a reluctant participant. She was not the "outdoorsy" type and did not seem to relish field work. Romi was at home suffering from a bad cold, so he was not available for the start of training.

Paul and Mick gave short shrift to the science of scuba diving. The relevant aspects of physics, physiology and oceanography were glossed over. They did, however, stress two important rules: never hold your breath while ascending, and never dive alone. After presenting the basics of scuba diving in the classroom, we were ready and eager to strap on the tanks and go into the water.

We were to continue training the next day at the Fort George Hotel swimming pool, but Paul and Mick had to rush to the Guatemalan front. While we at Fisheries were focused on scuba training, the British Forces were focused on the Guatemalan troops massing at the border and threatening to invade Belize.

Great Britain had sent troops to reinforce the garrison in Belize in the face of a mounting confrontation with Guatemala. The Royal Navy frigate HMS Achilles took up a position in Belizean waters on July 5 when British forces were moved to within two miles of the Guatemalan border. Two days later a Hawker Harrier fighter detachment was deployed in Belize while several hundred extra troops were flown in by transport aircraft. The next day anti-aircraft missiles were positioned to defend Belize's only airport.

After a few days, the tension along the border with Guatemala eased, and Paul and Mick returned to Fisheries to continue our scuba training.

We spent two mornings in the Fort George Hotel swimming pool learning the basics. Everyone except Jen seemed to do fine. Jen was obviously not comfortable in the water but was giving it her best effort. Romi was still at home nursing his head cold.

I was thrilled to be using the Fort George pool. Fort George was the only three-star hotel in Belize. In fact, there were no other hotels in the country that rated higher than one star. Fort George was the epitome of luxury, at least, compared to my meager existence as a Peace Corps Volunteer.

In the 1970s the price of Coca Cola and beer was controlled by the government, so you could drink a Belikin beer in the Paddle Bar at the Fort George, replete with air conditioning, sea view, waistcoated waiters and all, for 65 cents. That is, if you drank out of the bottle. If you asked for a glass, they could charge whatever they wanted. I confess that, as a poor Peace Corps Volunteer, I took advantage of this "loophole" a few times. I would sip my drink straight out of the bottle and look down at the hotel guests lounging by the pool and pretend that I was among them living in the lap of luxury.

The British Army maintained a house on St. George's Caye that they used for a rest and recuperation facility. Paul suggested that we do our ocean dives near St. George's Caye so that we could use their R&R facility during lunch breaks.

We did our first ocean dive in the morning and went down to only 15 feet on the inside of the reef. Almost immediately Jen sucked in a lot of water and panicked. I swam over to her, kept her afloat and got her to the boat. She was frightened, and I could tell that she probably would not dive again. Scuba diving was just not her "cup of tea."

During our lunchbreak at St George's Caye we used the British Army's air compressor and recharged our tanks. Denton and I borrowed a couple of the Army's kayaks and had some fun until I overturned on a mass of jellyfish and was stung over my entire body.

After lunch, Howard, Denton, Colin, Paul and I dove on the deep side of the reef. We all checked out okay at 45 feet. Janet had a cold so could not dive, and Romi was still sick at home.

Communication among us was a challenge. Paul was English, Mick was Scottish, Romi and Denton spoke Creole, Colin was from Mauritius, a former British colony in the Indian Ocean, Janet was Belizean and educated in England, Howard was from Florida, and I was from Southern California. On the surface, nobody quite knew what anybody else was talking about. But once we went under water, all communication was by sign language, and we could understand each other perfectly.

The next day neither of Fisheries' skiffs was available because none of the outboard motors was in working order. Colin offered to take us out in his sailboat. Unaware of the condition of Colin's boat, Paul immediately took Colin up on his offer.

Romi had recovered from his cold but remained at the lab to try to repair the broken outboard motors. That meant that Romi had not yet made any actual scuba dives, not even in the Fort George Hotel swimming pool.

Colin's sailboat was an old, waterlogged converted fishing smack. With a 25 horsepower outboard mounted on the transom and carrying six adults, its top speed was only five miles per hour. Our dive spot, the reef in front of St. George's Caye, was 10 miles away. We settled in for a two-hour journey on a swelteringly hot and breezeless day. Sergeant Paul was not amused.

We finally reached our dive spot and set the anchor. The water depth on the outside of the reef at St. George's Caye gradually increases to about 30 feet and then drops off steeply at the wall to just over 100 feet where it then gradually slopes even deeper. We dove the face of the wall to 80 feet. It was a beautiful dive with plenty of corals, sponges and sea fans. At 80 feet we could spend up to 30 minutes at depth without decompressing, but we began our ascent after just a few minutes.

We were soon back in the boat and ready to head back to Belize. Colin started the outboard motor, Denton pulled up the anchor, and we were underway. In typical Fisheries Unit fashion, we ran out of gas before reaching the city. With a gentle breeze now coming out of the southeast, Colin raised the mainsail. We slowly sailed the final mile back to the Barracks. Paul was satisfied that Denton, Colin and I were ready and capable of diving to 120 feet. Weather permitting, and outboard motors repaired, the "big dive" was set for the next day.

The next morning Romi had the outboards running, and he, Denton, Colin, Howard, Paul and I took the skiff to the reef off St. George's Caye. We set the anchor in about 30 feet of water, near to the drop-off. After a few words of caution from Paul, we put on our gear and entered the water. We descended as a group and kept close together. We reached the bottom at 130 feet. After just a couple of minutes Paul signaled for us to slowly ascend.

We were excited to have gone to such a depth. When we were back in the skiff it was all smiles and laughs. Paul slapped a high five with each of us, but when he got to Romi he suddenly got serious and asked, "Who are you?"

"I'm Romi, the boat captain."

"Yes, I know, but you haven't been a part of this training. Have you ever been scuba diving before?"

"No. This was the first time I ever had on tanks. This was my first dive. I couldn't do the training with the others because I was home sick with a cold."

Paul quietly said, "So, your first dive ever, the first time you ever put on a scuba tank, was to 130 feet? Please don't tell anyone that I was responsible for that."

Romi was unfazed, and Paul was relieved that his assignment with the Fisheries Unit had ended.

[Photo: Romi Badillo and Peace Corps Volunteer Howard Blakesley at the Fisheries Unit Laboratory, 1977.]

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