Around July, 1999, I realized that all my business travel finally had an upside. 80,000 combined Continental One Pass miles and American Express Membership Rewards points was enough to get me as far as Cairns, Australia for free. That, in and of itself, was exciting enough. With a little research, however, I discovered that Cairns is the jumping off point for Papua New Guinea, which was rated by the readers of Rodale's Scuba Diving magazine as the number 1 dive destination worldwide in 1999. So there I was pondering: Australia... PNG... Australia... PNG... After much deliberation, and intensive research into the schedules of the various liveaboard dive boat operations available in both locations, I said Yes... to both destinations! After 10 months of planning and saving, Wednesday, May 10 finally arrived.
I had first been to Australia in June 1991, and fell in love with the country and the people. I also did my very first dive at the Agincourt Reef, and was hooked immediately. While on that trip, my friends and I made an audio log to record our thoughts and experiences. I vividly remember sitting in Cairns Airport waiting for a flight to Sydney, declaring into the tape recorder that I would be back. It took 8 years and 328 days from when I uttered those words, but I kept that promise to myself.
I was scheduled to fly out from Newark airport at 4:15pm EDT bound for Los Angeles, where I had a three and a half hour stopover in which to make my connection to the Qantas flight to Sydney. Well, Mother Nature decided that I should sweat a little. She blanketed the whole New York area on May 10 with rain and fog, which completely bogged down operations at all three NYC airports. We didn't board the plane until about 5:00pm, and once we were on, they told us that they would be pushing back from gate and wait out the storm on the tarmac. Basically they were trying to get some congestion out of the terminal, and clear the gate so that they could get another plane in. Once we arrived at our parking space on the tarmac, they announced that we would probably sit for about three hours.
PANIC!
I knew that I would eventually get to Australia, but that was not my concern. PNG doesn't exactly have frequent connections to it's outer destinations and the very real possibility that I would miss the boat's weekly departure slapped me across the face.
INCREASE PANIC!! TURN ON THE SWEAT GLANDS!!
I checked my travel insurance policy. Naturally, trip cancellation due to carrier and weather related delays was not covered.
INCREASE PANIC!! BEGIN QUEASY FEELING IN STOMACH!!
I composed myself and explained my situation to the head flight attendant. Basically, I told her that I didn't care how they did it, but I had to be in Cairns by no later than 6:00am on Saturday, May 13. Yes, I know at the time it was May 10, but you lose a day travelling westbound across the international date line. I suggested slapping a FedEx label on me and sending me International Priority. I was serious...
Seeing that I was pretty close to going postal, she went to the captain to see if he could get any information through the airline. In the meantime, the passenger in front of me heard me say that I could probably do just as well by calling Qantas myself, but that my cell phone was home. He kindly handed me his cell phone, and I was able to contact Qantas and explain the situation. I was told that my original flight was delayed about an hour in Los Angeles, and that I might still be able to make it. Since that was doubtful, I immediately started asking about reroutes via Auckland, New Zealand and Brisbane, Australia. No Go. Finally, we determined that there was another Qantas flight coming out of JFK Airport in NYC, going through Los Angeles, and continuing on to Sydney. Due to the weather in NYC, that flight was as delayed as mine. It was not scheduled to depart LA until 3:00am PDT.
THIS COULD WORK!
Even though I would be late getting into Sydney, and, therefore, late getting into Cairns, I would still be there by late Friday, May 12, and be able to make my connection onto Air Niugini the following morning.
RELIEF! TURN DOWN SWEAT GLANDS, RESTORE APPETITE.
Seeing how it was going to be a long wait, the flight attendants brought out a beverage service. They started a movie. After some time they brought out the meal service. Keep in mind that we hadn't even left the ground yet! About 2/3 of the way through the meal service, we were given clearance to take off. I have never seen a plane full of people eat so fast, or flight attendants clear a meal service so quickly in all of my travels!
Finally, FIVE hours after the scheduled departure, we were wheels up. I really needed a drink, but I've learned in all my business travel that alcohol, caffeine and air travel just do not mix. Several ginger ales later, however, I was feeling somewhat better.
I tried to remain calm. I took deep breaths. I tried to sleep. Not that night. My mind was churning, focusing on getting from Domestic Terminal 6 to the Tom Bradley International Terminal at LAX. Fortunately, I had an aisle seat in row 9. As soon as the line started moving, I was off the plane like a bullet, stopping only briefly to thank the head flight attendant, and the guy who had loaned me his cell phone.
I raced to baggage claim, staked out my territory and waited for the conveyor to start.
At this point, I silently thanked Ken Knezick of Island Dreams Travel in Houston. I attended a workshop that he moderated at the Beneath the Sea exhibition on "Disaster Proofing Your International Dive Vacation," where I heard some very important suggestions:
* Pack your expensive dive gear in a crappy looking bag or suitcase. * Make said bag look even crappier through copious application of duct tape (This also makes identifying your bag at a distance a snap) * Carry pictures of your luggage in your carry on bag so that you can avoid conversations like: "My luggage is lost." "What does it look like?" "Well, it's black." * Pack your regulator, mask, and dive computer in your carry on bag. * NEVER, EVER check your luggage through LAX on an international connection. There is this "Area 51" of luggage there where the international transfer luggage is place on a conveyor belt, operated by a third party vendor, and often never makes it to the other terminal.
I spotted my bag right as it rolled onto the conveyor (Yeah, duct tape!), grabbed it and bolted to the transfer bus. Within 20 minutes of deplaning, I was stumbling up to Qantas counter at the international terminal. I explained my situation, and to my great relief, I was told that the flight out of JFK was in the air and that it would take off from LAX bound for Sydney at 3:30am PDT. My relieved reaction stunned them, because they said that they had rarely ever seen someone so happy that their flight was delayed by 5 hours. They also rescheduled my connecting flights through Sydney up to Cairns. Then, they handed me a delayed flight food voucher. OK, first they saved my vacation, then they bought me dinner. I like Qantas :-) Granted, there was very little still open in the food court at 12:45am PDT, but I made due.
The flight from JFK finally arrived at Gate 121. The passengers all deplaned so that the new crew could board and prepare for the long flight ahead. I finally boarded the flight at 4:00am and we were wheels up by 4:30am PDT.
They quickly banged out a food a beverage service, then shut the shades and lights so that we could try and get some sleep while it was still dark since we were racing daybreak by that point. Fortunately the flight on the Boeing 747-400 was pretty empty, so I had a row of three all to myself. I managed to get about 5 hours sleep. It is, however, a 14 hour flight from LAX to Sydney, so there was much restlessness for the remainder of the flight. The Qantas service and attention to detail were excellent.
I landed in Sydney at about 11:30am on Friday, May 12. Yes, Thursday, May 11 pretty much disappeared whilst I was airborne. My new connecting flight to Cairns didn't leave until 4:00pm, and had a stopover in Brisbane. They gave me another delayed flight food voucher and sent me off to the food court. This time plenty was open at the food court and I discovered the Australian language for coffee: Long black... Short white... Mugaccino... The Aussies really do up a nice cup of coffee. I figured that I had almost four hours to rehydrate after the cup of coffee, and I was fading fast, so a capuccino did me very well. While waiting for the flight, I called ahead to alert my hotel in Cairns of my late arrival, since reception desks are not open 24 hours down under. The Sydney to Brisbane to Cairns flights went off without a hitch, and I landed in Cairns about 9:00pm. I got to my hotel about 9:30, took a desperately needed shower and finally crawled into bed about 10:30pm. From the time I left for the airport to the time I got to my hotel in Cairns, 42 hours had passed!
I slept intermittently because I was paranoid about missing my two alarms and wake up call, and because now I had to deal with the next challenge: Air Niugini, PNG's national airline. My flight to Port Moresby, PNG was scheduled for 7:15am on Saturday, May 13. Wanting to be at the airport at least 2 hours before the departure. I was up at 4:30 am for 5:00am taxi to the airport. I arrived to find a moderate line at the Air Niugini counter, and they weren't even checking people in yet. I was glad I got there when I did, because a big missionary group got on line about 5 minutes after I did, making it look like a common feeder line at Disney. While waiting at the airport, I met the first few of my fellow passengers who were travelling to catch the same dive boat as I. My flight took off a few minutes late, but otherwise, was without incident, landing at 8:30am at Jackson's Field, Port Moresby.
Air Niugini's flights seemed safe enough. The planes were in good repair, the flight crew seemed fine, they have never had a crash and the Australian accents of the pilots certainly instilled confidence. However, scheduling with Air Niugini is an interesting concept. When we landed and recollected our bags to go through customs, we looked up on the departure board. The flight that I was supposed to be on at 12:30pm was listed as leaving at 13:20 (or 1:20pm for those of you confounded by a 24 hour clock). I had informed the dive company that I would be arriving at about 2:35pm, and if the listed time was correct, I would either be late for my transfer from the airport, or hold up the other passengers. Maureen (one of the other divers on the first flight) noticed that there was a 9:40am flight to Rabaul and it was about 9:15am when we got through immigration. Figuring early was better than late, we decided to try and make the 9:40 flight. We raced to the domestic terminal in the very tropical heat, and sat down at the gate at 9:30am.
Naturally, the flight didn't board until 10:00am. Island time... the hardest thing for a chronograph-driven New Yorker to deal with!
After another uneventful flight, we landed in Rabaul, on East New Britain Island. One step off the plane instantly reminded me of exactly where we were: 152 degrees East longitude, 4 degrees SOUTH latitude. Basically, we were close to the equator. It was HOT! Damn HOT! And humid. I recalled Robin Williams as Adrian Cronauer in Good Morning, Vietnam doing the weather: "The weather out there today is hot and shitty with continued hot and shitty in the afternoon. Tomorrow a chance of continued crappy with a pissy weather front coming down from the north. Basically, it's hotter than a snake's ass in a wagon rut." We walked into the airport building to get out of the intense sun. It was no better inside.
Once I put down my bags and rested for a moment, I realized something very important. I hadn't taken the time to exchange currency in Port Moresby. American Dollars may be acceptable currency in many areas of the world, but Rabaul, PNG on a Saturday afternoon is not one of them. So here we are in a third world country, with no currency, not seeing our ride, sweating. At worst, though, we would have to wait a while for our transfer based on our intended schedules. Still, I tried to exchange just a few dollars at the only food stand, but they couldn't do it.
There was a missionary woman who heard my plight, and gave me a 1 Kina coin, enough to make two phone calls with 20 toea (toy-a) left over. After expressing my profuse gratitude, I pulled out my list of important numbers and boldly walked up to a payphone to try and make a call. Historically, I have wasted so much foreign money trying to figure out overseas payphones, and I knew that I only had two chances to get though. This time I got right through, and explained that there are two passengers for the next charter waiting at the airport, and was glad to hear that the transfer vans are already on their way.
BTW, the missionary woman was in PNG to work with lepers. I really wish I hadn't found that out. In addition to leprosy, PNG has several other festive diseases for travelers to deal with: like malaria. And the mosquitoes are chloroquine resistant. So, in addition to everything else, I was, and, as of this writing, still am following a schedule of malaria prophylaxis. The most prescribed medication for this purpose is Lariam, which is taken as a pill once a week. It is now generally contraindicated for diving as its side effects mimic symptoms of decompression illness. There's also the psychotic dream episodes, but like the drug companies, we won't mention those. So I'm taking doxycyline daily, for another week or so. I would have much preferred a steady infusion of Gin & Tonics.
Doxyxcyline also has a side effect: increased photosensitivity. So take me and my fair skin, account for my Austrian and Czech nationalities, add doxycycline, spritz with 95% DEET insect repellent to beat the mozzies, shake well and go out into sunlight more intense than Egypt, bake well for 8 days at 90+ degrees. I'm surprised I didn't just immolate.
After about 15 minutes wait, two vans pull up with Dancer Fleet insignias on them, and one of the boat crew comes into the airport. It's very easy to tell the representatives of Peter Hughes Diving in these third world countries, because they pick you up in their Dancer Fleet regalia: pressed white dress shirt, epaulets, etc. It's sort of like the peasant scene in Monty Python and the Holy Grail:
Q: "How do you know he's from Peter Hughes Diving?" A: "Because he hasn't got shit all over him."
At that point, Jono, the photo/ video pro on board the boat arrived like the proverbial knight in shining armor. He whisked us into the well air conditioned (and well hidden) VIP lounge and got our bags on the van. After about 10 minutes, he had us on our way to Rabaul. We were actually closer to Tokua, because the Rabaul Airport was destroyed in dual volcanic eruptions in 1994, and we had a very bumpy 45 minute drive back to Rabaul. Bumpy, probably because we watched road crews filling in potholes in the asphalt with dirt. Plain dirt. No gravel, mortar or asphalt. Dirt. We were dropped off at the Kaivuna Hotel where we waited in semi air conditioned semi comfort until the rest of the group arrived a few hours later.
The rest of the group ended up on the 12:30pm flight. Remember the one rescheduled for 1:20pm? It took off at 12:30pm. Island time...
OK, OK, had I not been in such a rush, I could have exchanged currency back in Port Moresby, and lazed in semi air conditioned semi comfort at the airport, but the stories wouldn't be nearly as good. :-)
So at about 3:30pm on Saturday, May 13, we were transferred to Peter Hughes' MV Star Dancer. At this point, after 60 or so hours of travel hell, it was like boarding a floating palace. 120' long, 23' beam, well air conditioned, clean with a nicely laid out dive deck. One of the most beautiful moments happens right as you board, you are asked to remove your shoes so that you track mud and ash onto the boat. If you so chose, your feet need go in nothing more confining than fins the rest of the week.
We had 14 passengers on board for the week, and the chemistry among the group was wonderful. I felt like the baby of the group, because my hundred or so logged dives seemed paltry compared to the rest of the group, especially one couple with 1300 and 1700 dives respectively. Granted they have been diving a bit longer than I.
The crew was uniformly awesome. They were friendly, enthusiastic, helpful, and obviously love what they do. It was interesting international crew: 2 South Africans, 2 Aussies, 1 Belgian, 1 German and 5 Papuans We were well fed, well cared for, and definitely well dived. Our typical daily schedule was something like:
6:00am Continental breakfast 7:00am Briefing & first dive 9:00am Breakfast 10:00am Second Dive 11:30am Snack while repositioning the boat at another site 12:30pm Briefing & third Dive 2:00pm Lunch while repositioning the boat at another site 3:00pm Briefing & fourth Dive 4:30pm Snack 6:30pm Night Dive 8:00pm Sit down dinner with linen napkins and tablecloths 9:00pm Collapse
After all the trials and tribulations of getting there, I'm sure many of you are asking the same question: Why bother?
Well, as Paul Theroux said, "The most interesting places always lie at the end of the worst roads." That being the case, the pristine coral reefs around PNG are some of the most interesting places that I have ever been. Absolutely gorgeous corals, prolific fish life and critters in one of the healthiest marine environments that I have had the privilege of diving. The area that we were in was largely protected, and so we were saying that we had seen rougher seas in bathtubs and swimming pools. Only one day did we ever have to struggle with current, and most days the visibility was about 75 - 100'. The water temperature was a very consistent 85 - 87 degrees Fahrenheit (29 - 31 degrees Celsius) with air temps in the 90's under mostly beautiful clear skies. At sea, there was always a cooling breeze, so even the intense sun and heat wasn't horrible. It just meant that I had to be ultra careful, with judicious use of sunscreen. This is more difficult than it sounds doing 5 dives a day. Sunscreen washes off, and sunscreen on your face tends to wash right into your eyes when wearing a mask.
Whereas Palau had healthy reefs, and high voltage pelagic encounters, and the Red Sea had great reefs that were teeming with life and some pelagics, the area of PNG that we dove has the "power of the critter" (as termed by Jono). You really have to slow down on the reefs and scan closely and deliberately. With a little time and patience, life in a myriad of forms appears before your eyes. Until this trip, I had only ever seen nudibranchs (nud-ee-bronx), which are tiny, beautifully colored shell-less sea slugs, in pictures. After a day or two, I was finding them on almost every dive.
This is not to say that you needed a magnifying glass or macro lens on every dive, although they were available for use. There were huge, colorful and copious sea anemones with their resident clownfish undulating in the light surge of the water. There were eye popping schools of anthias in a veritable dance to the rhythm of your breathing. As you inhale through your regulator, they swim out from their hiding places in huge staghorn and elkhorn coral fields, only to return to the safety of the coral upon your exhalation. There were turtles and lionfish that we termed as "on the payroll" because instead of hiding or running from us, the just hung out in some easily accessible places and allowed us to view them, and to burn through an enormous amount of film and video tape. And there were a few sharks, and cuttlefish, and decorated crabs, a monstrous barracuda and big schools of fish of all sizes and colors. Two of the absolute highlights of the trip happened on consecutive days, and only really required mask, fins, snorkel and a lot of kicking. On Wednesday, a pod of pilot whales and some dolphins were following the boat's wake. We slowed down, jumped in and snorkeled around with them for a while. They didn't stay around too long, but the experience was awesome. And that was during the continental breakfast!
The following day, at least we were allowed to finish breakfast. As were suiting up for the 21st dive of the trip, a pod of 4 orcas (or killer whales as they are more commonly known) was sighted off the starboard side of the boat. They were a fair distance off, but we had a 16 passenger tender in tow, so we leapt into that, again, armed only with mask, fins, snorkel, and some cameras, and the chase was on. The orcas weren't in a very playful mood, but we were persistent and made several passes to try and get as close as possible. On the first two passes, we were leaving some distance between the orcas and the tender, and we swam towards them. On our second pass, we spotted them diving below trying to evade us. On the third pass however, we stopped much closer to the pod and hit the water fast. The male orca broke off to the left trying to get us to follow him. I was fortunate enough to be on the side the female orca and two pups went towards. I hit the water kicking as hard as I could right towards them. I got closest to them, maybe 10 - 15' away. What magnificent creatures! What magnificent luck! When we got back to the boat, those who chose to dive were just getting out of the water, so we basically missed one dive, but I'll forfeit one any day for an in water experience like that. I commented that I love this Star Dancer exercise program: all the thrills and none of the nitrogen.
And screw Kevin Costner and his Dances with Wolves. Snorkels with Orcas has a nice ring to it :-)
The week's diving went by far too quickly, and was basically sensory overload. On Friday, May 19, we blew our last bubbles in PNG and began the ever joyous task of rinsing, drying and repacking our dive gear. I fully believe that dive gear expands in water, because it never all fits back in the bag quite the same way. We got back into port at about 2:30pm, and began a land tour of the Rabaul area. I'm sure the crew was glad to be rid of us for a few hours while they began reprovisioning the boat for the following week's charter.
We called the tour the "Used-To-Be" tour, because almost everything was saw was described in the past tense on how it was before the volcanoes erupted. "That used to be the airport, and that used to be the government house..." It was kind of depressing seeing how little recovery there had been in 6 years. We were also tutored by one of the natives on the fine art of chewing Betelnut. Sorry, but anything that requires you to rub soda lime over your gums just does not sound like all that much fun, no matter how much of a buzz you get.
We all got back to the boat at about 6:00pm and got ready for the final night's BBQ, with a farewell slide show and the video presentation that they film on board for each charter. It was a fitting end to what was one of the best weeks of diving I have ever had.
We disembarked on Saturday morning, May 20, and most of us went back to the Kaivuna hotel to await our transfer back to the airport. I had to laugh that several people were on the same flight, and almost all had different departure time listed in their itineraries for the same flight number. Someone even said, "But the flight was reconfirmed." Reconfirmation on Air Niugini simply means that you do have a seat of some flight, on some day, that will eventually get you to your destination. I was supposed to have a non stop flight at 1:30pm from Rabaul back to Port Moresby. However, we left closer to 2:30pm, stopped in Hoskins to pick up a load of tuna (yes, tuna) and got back to Port Moresby at about 4:30pm.
Due to our proximity to the equator, the sun was usually down by 6:30pm, hence our night dives before dinner. Well, the sun was getting low in the sky in a city where travelers are not advised to be out after dark. Actually, one survey I read named Port Moresby the world's most dangerous city. I heard that one of the business traveler's hotels actually has archers on staff as additional security.
So I made it to Port Moresby in daylight. My luggage did also. I only had one small problem... money. Remember that gift of a 1 Kina coin many pages ago? Well, that is still all the PNG currency that I had, now there was 60 toea left and it cost 40 toea to make a phone call to the hotel. Luck was on my side as I got through to the hotel in Port Moresby and they had a free shuttle to and from the airport.
I checked in at the Islander Travelodge at about 6:00pm, just beating the sunset. I don't know if I should have been happy or scared that the hotel had two gated security checkpoints, and a spiked fence surrounding the property. Most importantly, I was finally able to exchange some money. I could have probably just charged everything to my room at that point, but I wanted some local currency just in case. Besides, colorful foreign currency always adds to the scrapbook.
The following morning, I took the shuttle back to the airport to catch my 9:30am flight to Cairns. Naturally, after having been Kina-less for almost my whole time in PNG, I now had money left over. Off I went to Duty Free and brought back a pound of local Blue Mountain coffee, which is really nice stuff. The flight miraculously took off pretty much on time, and around 11:00am, I was landing in a first world country. When I heard the first mobile phone go off in the airport, I realized what a true joy it is to escape from civilization, and almost turned back around towards the plane.
When I arrived into Sydney on May 12, they basically looked at my passport, examined my prescription medication, and my rather large stash of Powerbars, sent me on my way. When I arrived back into Cairns from PNG, customs agents went through everything, and I mean everything. No article of clothing was left unchecked, including my dive gear. As I opened my dive bag for inspection, I said to the agent, "By the way, you will find a dive knife in the bag." That really didn't concern her, as I suppose she was looking for items which are contraband or quarantine in Australia. When she grabbed my dive booties, I suggested that she really wanted to check inside of them with her gloved hand. After a week of solid diving, booties should just have a biohazard symbol stamped on them. After at least 20 minutes, I was deemed safe to proceed. I walked up to one of the other folks from the boat who had been on the same flight as I and said, "So when is the de-lousing shower?"
I arrived at my hotel in Cairns around 12:30pm, cranked out a load of laundry, and then went on walkabout to the city center. Cairns is pretty much the tourist center of North Queensland. However, there really isn't all that much to do in Cairns itself. It is the starting point for hundreds of day trips and tours to the barrier reef, the rainforests, the Kuranda Rail, etc. Additionally, it is the backpacker's capital of North Queensland, so every other shop is a booking agent or an internet cafe, or (naturally for Australia) a bar. It got a little monotonous after the second day around town, and I probably should have skipped off some other destination for a day. However, kicking back, propping up various bars and making sure the beer was still good was a relaxing way to burn up two days. BTW, the VB and the Castlemaine's XXXX are still very good. ;-)
One observation that I made which was kind of disturbing was noticing which aspects of American culture get exported overseas. The perennial exports like McDonald's (known in Oz as Macca's, the American Embassy or the Chew-N-Spew) are sad enough. Seeing the natives wearing WWF Stone Cold Steve Austin shirts was a little depressing. The one that got me the most was hearing "The Bad Touch" by The Bloodhound Gang on the radio at the duty free shop in Port Moresby. The Bloodhound Gang is sort of like the 2 Live Crew of the new Millenium. Scary.
On Tuesday, May 23, I boarded a bus for the 5 hour drive down to Townsville, the departure point for my next boat. I had been in Townsville in 1991, and I remember sitting around, propping up the bar, throwing darts and watching organized violence, I mean Aussie Rules Football at an awesome, old fashioned Aussie pub & hotel. I was picking my brain on the ride down, skimming through a backpacker's guide trying to remember the name of the place. Finally, about 4 hours into the journey, it came to me: The Great Northern Hotel.
I asked the taxi driver who was taking me from the coach terminal to the dive shop if the hotel was still around. Turns out that not only was it still around, it was celebrating it's 100th year in Townsville, and was in walking distance from the dive shop. So after checking in, I walked down to the Great Northern, propped up the bar, made sure the beer was still good, and ordered lunch. Pub grub will always be the absolutely most economical way to eat on vacation. A beer and a huge plate of sausages with potatoes and veggies cost me about AU$8, or about US$4.75 with the current exchange rate. BTW, the Castlemaine's Gold is still very good.
So after lunch, I walked down through Flinder's Mall and most of what downtown Townsville had to offer. Then I took a stroll along the Strand, a beautiful 2 or 3 mile stretch of oceanfront promenade with several monuments to local veterans of the War in the Pacific during World War II. It was an excellent, quick history lesson to read about the Battle of the Coral Sea and to understand how it was a turning point against Japanese supremacy in the Pacific.
Finally, it was 8:00pm, and just about time to board the next dive boat. This time it was Mike Ball Dive Expeditions' Spoilsport, a 100' long, 34' beam catamaran with accommodations for up to 28 divers. I had met Jeff, one of the other divers on this boat back at the dive shop, and we grabbed dinner at a restaurant next to the dock. A guy came around just to check that everyone was ready to board. He introduced himself simply as Mike. I recognized him as Mike Ball himself. It was kind of cool being checked in by the owner of the company. We were bound for the Coral Sea, specifically, the Flinders Reef complex, 180 nautical miles offshore. The wind had picked up that day, and we had a bumpy 10 hour night crossing ahead of us. So much for the flat calm seas of PNG.
We arrived at the first dive site, China Wall, about 8:00am and had our first briefing about procedures and such. Our typical daily schedule was something like:
7:00am Briefing & first dive 9:00am Breakfast while repositioning the boat at another site 10:30am Second Dive 1:00pm Lunch while repositioning the boat at another site 3:00pm Briefing & third dive 4:30pm Snack 6:30pm Night Dive 8:00pm Family style dinner 9:00pm Collapse
There are three entry points on the Spoilsport, two dive decks and a high platform. I chose the center high platform. The 6' drop into the water gave new meaning to the term "Giant Stride Entry." That first entry was interesting. I thought I was prepared for the water temperatures since I was wearing a pretty new 5mm wetsuit, and the water was 78 degrees Fahrenheit (25.5 degrees Celsius). The problem was that I had worn the same suit on 26 dives in the 85 degree waters of PNG. That 7 degree difference felt like 20! I was diving with Jeff and my cabin mate Darren on the first dive. I shook off the shock of the water temperature and began my descent.
I immediately tried to equalize my ears by holding my nose & blowing. Nothing. DOH! I tried clearing by swallowing. Nada. I tried holding my nose and swallowing. Zilch. I tried wiggling my jaw. Zip. I signaled to my buddies that I was having trouble clearing my ears. They slowed down their descent and waited. After a couple of minutes, I had made it down to about 20', and rather than waste their time, I signaled them to go on ahead without me. I went up to the deco bar hanging at 15' and continued to attempt to equalize. Hanging on the bar, I realized how clear the water was. The boat is 100' long, and I could see the mooring line entering the water some distance in front of the bow and extending down to the mooring. I estimated that we were pushing 120' visibility. Now if only I could get my ears to clear. After about 15 minutes and every combination of every equalization technique that I know, I finally heard my ears clear and I was at least able to descend to 89' so that I could maintain consecutively shallower dive profiles through out the rest of the day.
Although it was a less than stellar way to start off the charter, at least I was able to get down, and saw a couple of monstrous titan triggerfish. I started on a strict regimen of Claritin-D and Aurocaine (for swimmer's ear) to try and keep my Eustachian tubes open for equalizing, and had only minor occasional difficulties clearing after that episode. From that point on, the water temperature was my nemesis. By halfway through the fourth dive of the day, I was a Bill-sicle. The first two dives on any day were fine, but I was always cold on the night dives since that much time in the water lowers your core body temperature.
The big highlights of diving that far out in the Coral Sea were the awesome viz, which soared to about 150' at times, lots of pelagics: sharks, tuna, trevally, etc. and great coral density. It was beautiful and fun diving, but Queensland is so regulated with logging off and on the boat, as well as recording depth and time and signing off. I know it is only for the safety of everyone involved, but it was kind of a pain. Maybe I am jaded having been fortunate to dive some world class locations, but I don't think it lived up to all the hype. Not that I wouldn't recommend going to the Great Barrier Reef or the Coral Sea. Just have some realistic expectations about what you'll be likely to see because it isn't the be-all-and-end-all of diving.
The one big downer was that rough seas and 25 - 30 knot winds prevented us from diving one of Australia's best sites, the wreck of the Yongala. It is supposed to be absolutely awesome, but on the day we were supposed to dive it, there were 12' seas at the site. We diverted to Wheelers Reef for our final dive, and we ended up chasing a school of devil rays. Not a bad way to end the trip, but still not the Yongala. I guess that gives me reason to go back again :-)
The crew of 9 Aussies on board the Spoilsport was also excellent. Although the day that the State of Origin (Rugby) game was taking place, I though there was going to be a war between the chef (from New South Wales) and the hostess (from Queensland). The only problem I had with the Spoilsport is that it felt overcrowded. We had 28 passengers, which felt like about 8 too many for the size of the dive deck. Also, with that many people, cliques formed, and there were some people whose names I did not know after being on the same boat for a week.
After another bumpy and windy crossing back to Townsville, we docked at about 3:30pm on Monday, May 29. I grabbed some dinner and got to sleep early since I knew I had to get up at 4:00am to begin the long journey home. I took off right on time at 6:10am on Tuesday, May 30, and went via Brisbane, Sydney, and Los Angeles, arriving at Newark Airport at 9:00pm, still on Tuesday, May 30. It may have been the same date, but I had been in transit for 32 hours. I hate the international date line. I've now done three round trips across it, and I always get off the plane and have to figure out when I am.
I took the following day off to try and adjust to the jet lag. It was a beautiful sunny day that lent itself perfectly to cleaning and drying dive gear.
My goal is 50 dives a year. In two weeks, I made 45 dives and spent 37 hours and 24 minutes under water. Of the two destinations, I preferred the overall experience of PNG. A big thanks goes out to Keith, Larry, Chuck, Bonnie, Maureen, Ed, Marlene, Pam, Sonny, John, Richard, Jackie, Phil, and all the crew for being part of such an awesome trip.
So that's it, another trip report on another memorable adventure. My apologies that it was so long, but obviously there was a lot going on.
I've discovered that the best way to avoid being bummed out after one of these trips is to have the next one in the works, so you always have that nugget of anticipation in front of you. Next up: the Galapagos over New Year's 2001.
Let the games begin...