I had not realized how much I missed the Ocean, or as I call Her, the Mysterious Lady of the Sea. After the Guadeloupe mini debacle, debacle is a strong word (though I feel we did get mini fucked over by the travel insurance that comes with our gold titanium diamond superhero credit card), we had to plan B in a hurry, sort of like the morning after too great a party. As we were cancelling trip number one due to mild civil unrest, I received a promotional email from a place we dove with previously on Cozumel. At the same time, a friend sent us an advertisement for a good deal on a resort on that very same island. I think Cozumel, the Island of Swallows, wanted us back. Since burning tires at crossroads kept us from the French Antilles, Mexico it would be. Avast me hearties!
If you manage to leave the waterfront and the main touristy strip, San Miguel de Cozumel drops its Hard Rock Café, cruise ships and expensive watches façade, and reverts to a real town. Nice and not so nice, clean and not so clean, but real, screw the amusement park.
Well that went quickly.
I’m sitting in an airplane seat again. Exactly the one I had on the way in, 27D. The week just flew by. My wife is sitting across the aisle from me with a red hibiscus flower in her hair, she looks fabulous, I’m curious if customs will say anything about it. The flower I mean.
I sing of your beauty Mysterious Lady of the Sea,
I sing of your beauty Ix’Chel,
I sing of your beauty Cozumel,
We try not to go dive to spots we have visited before, there’s just too much to discover, but some of us really needed a break and the deal was very good (I’m not saying we’re cheap, but you know, thrift and all that). So bags were packed, coworkers were informed, and a taxi, with the worst suspension this side of the gold rush, took us to the airport in the dead of night. It was raining hard as we walked into the terminal, hard enough to wash away all the broken dreams that hang around airports and leave a glistening sheen of silent promises. Orange cones were all over the place, like so many hustlers trying to make the most of what you’ve got. The terminal has been under construction for the last 17 years or so. Someone’s lining their pockets, probably someone called Little Joe but weighs 300 pounds. Welcome to Montreal.
We dove twelve times off the western shore of Cozumel island, which is not too shabby for a week’s vacation. Our departing flight was late enough to allow us to dive right up to the last full day: kick ass. Our inaugural dives were on the morning of January first and a great way to start 2017. As I’ve mentioned in my previous post, all dives were either going low and slow among the coral pillars and swimming through the various tunnels, cracks and canyons, or quickish drift dives on top of the coral formations. The current was at times quite strong, it was best to keep an eye on your buddies. Never did we circle back to the boat, instead the captains followed our bubbles. This allowed for buddy ascents, if for example someone got low on air, and not having to turn the whole group around.