Geometry lessons and customer relations
Today was the last day of my advanced diving course, and I was to do the navigation course. Spencer and I were dropped off on a nearby beach, where I could plod around the sand (fortunately without my fins on) with a compass, practising walking in squares and triangles. Seemed easy enough.
The water was not at all deep here (if it was two metres I´d be surprised) and the strong swell kicked up the sandy bottom making the visibility about as good as pea-soup. My attempt at "natural navigation" without a compass was consequently rather hit-and-miss. I´d swim out twenty kicks or so, turn around, and swim back. On the surface I´d then spin around looking for Spencer who´d roll his eyes from 30 metres away. After another couple of attempts I´d managed it, and graduated onto using the compass. That was more like it. Nice straight lines, a perfect square, and then onto the triangle. Well, that was the idea. A triangle has less sides, so should be easier. I´m not quite sure what shapes I was making, but they´d probably be on the "hard" maths exam paper at school. I´d concentrate really hard on my kicks (it´s surprisingly hard to count to twenty), and finally surface at yet another point, disorientated, eventually spotting Spencer kicking sand and slowly shaking his head. I think in the end he decided that I´d made a triangle "on average" and let me pass.
Back at the hotel, Esther had not been having a good time. I´ll let here explain.
It was a shame to leave Speyside in this way, as it had seemed so pleasant when we´d arrived, but the guide book and websites listed some good dive companies down in Crown Point near the airport. We treated ourselves to another night at Kariwak Village (the food was still delicious), and decided to start again the next morning.
Bright and early (well, by Caribbean standards) we headed off for a wander around the town. We´d decided to visit a few different dive shops, and make sure we were comfortable with them before making any decisions. The first one we went to was just up the road from Kariwak, and attached to a resort called the The Toucan Inn. R&Sea was run by a couple who´d moved out to Tobago from the UK, and immediately seemed better run than those up in Speyside. But we stuck to our plan and headed off to the next one on our list. This was also attached to a resort, the Coco Beach Hotel. Coco Beach was an enormous and opulent plance with a sweeping palm-lined driveway, a vintage Rolls Royce parked out front, and a doorman wearing clothes decidedly unsuitable for the climate. We passed through the lobby trying to look as though this was our kind of place, and onto the (private) beach. We strolled past the sun loungers and yachts, and found the dive shop in what appeared to be something like the desert hut Luke Skywalker lived in before the Empire made him angry. They seemed pleasant and competent, though as might be expected, considerably more expensive than R&Sea. It was hot and we decided that was enough shopping around, so back we went.
Esther was introduced to her new instructor, Tony, while I headed off to the beach with Tiff, ex-British police officer (well, on sabatical) now turned dive master, to get the kit we´d be needing. On the way back we picked up our luggage from the Kariwak, as we´d decided we needed something cheaper and the dive shop got us a good deal with the Toucan Inn.
The waters on the Caribbean side of the island were not as clear as those on the Atlantic side, but there was a lot less current and there seemed to be more sea-life to explore; lobsters, turtles, cowries, beautiful snails (yep, the underwater variety are much prettier than their air-breathing cousins). In fact we got to watch a turtle munching away on a bit of coral from a distance of no more than a metre or so. 
Before we left the UK,
I had splashed out (no pun intended) on an underwater housing for our digital camera. As you might guess, I got a bit carried away and now we have many blurry shots of fish (mostly of their tails as they swim away) but also a few video snippets which worked better than I expected. If we ever get somewhere where I can upload the video and pictures, I´ll update this entry to include a few links to the best ones.
The hotel had a restaurant with the name of Bonkers and was owned by an Englishman. It wasn´t bad, despite the attempts by the owner to t
urn it into some sort of Tobagon Faliraki (of "Club Reps" infamy); the bar staff were wearing t-shirts with slogans such as "Get smashed at Bonkers" and dodgy sounding cocktails. Fortunately the customers weren´t falling for it and the place stayed nice and mellow, apart from the odd screech of "ello!" from Bonkers the macaw and his buddy the toucan.
Esther passed her course with flying colours, and in the process impressed the other divers with her ability not to breathe. For those of you that aren´t experienced divers, a bit of info; a tank of air can last different people different amounts of time. We use more air the more our muscles work, and if we´re nervous. The more experienced a diver, the longer they can make their air last. Well, Esther was quite happily puffing away on her supply as I got dangerously close to swimming-with-the-fishes permanently, and generated hardly and bubbles while I swam around in my own personal jacuzzi. Oh well, she always has been better in the water than me.
Dive certificates obtained, it was time to head off and see a bit more of what Tobago had to offer. We wandered down the road to Sheppy, the local car rental guy and headed off to brave the Tobago roads, dogs and all, in search of pirate treasure.
The water was not at all deep here (if it was two metres I´d be surprised) and the strong swell kicked up the sandy bottom making the visibility about as good as pea-soup. My attempt at "natural navigation" without a compass was consequently rather hit-and-miss. I´d swim out twenty kicks or so, turn around, and swim back. On the surface I´d then spin around looking for Spencer who´d roll his eyes from 30 metres away. After another couple of attempts I´d managed it, and graduated onto using the compass. That was more like it. Nice straight lines, a perfect square, and then onto the triangle. Well, that was the idea. A triangle has less sides, so should be easier. I´m not quite sure what shapes I was making, but they´d probably be on the "hard" maths exam paper at school. I´d concentrate really hard on my kicks (it´s surprisingly hard to count to twenty), and finally surface at yet another point, disorientated, eventually spotting Spencer kicking sand and slowly shaking his head. I think in the end he decided that I´d made a triangle "on average" and let me pass.
Back at the hotel, Esther had not been having a good time. I´ll let here explain.
It was a shame to leave Speyside in this way, as it had seemed so pleasant when we´d arrived, but the guide book and websites listed some good dive companies down in Crown Point near the airport. We treated ourselves to another night at Kariwak Village (the food was still delicious), and decided to start again the next morning.
Bright and early (well, by Caribbean standards) we headed off for a wander around the town. We´d decided to visit a few different dive shops, and make sure we were comfortable with them before making any decisions. The first one we went to was just up the road from Kariwak, and attached to a resort called the The Toucan Inn. R&Sea was run by a couple who´d moved out to Tobago from the UK, and immediately seemed better run than those up in Speyside. But we stuck to our plan and headed off to the next one on our list. This was also attached to a resort, the Coco Beach Hotel. Coco Beach was an enormous and opulent plance with a sweeping palm-lined driveway, a vintage Rolls Royce parked out front, and a doorman wearing clothes decidedly unsuitable for the climate. We passed through the lobby trying to look as though this was our kind of place, and onto the (private) beach. We strolled past the sun loungers and yachts, and found the dive shop in what appeared to be something like the desert hut Luke Skywalker lived in before the Empire made him angry. They seemed pleasant and competent, though as might be expected, considerably more expensive than R&Sea. It was hot and we decided that was enough shopping around, so back we went.
Esther was introduced to her new instructor, Tony, while I headed off to the beach with Tiff, ex-British police officer (well, on sabatical) now turned dive master, to get the kit we´d be needing. On the way back we picked up our luggage from the Kariwak, as we´d decided we needed something cheaper and the dive shop got us a good deal with the Toucan Inn.
The waters on the Caribbean side of the island were not as clear as those on the Atlantic side, but there was a lot less current and there seemed to be more sea-life to explore; lobsters, turtles, cowries, beautiful snails (yep, the underwater variety are much prettier than their air-breathing cousins). In fact we got to watch a turtle munching away on a bit of coral from a distance of no more than a metre or so. 
Before we left the UK,
I had splashed out (no pun intended) on an underwater housing for our digital camera. As you might guess, I got a bit carried away and now we have many blurry shots of fish (mostly of their tails as they swim away) but also a few video snippets which worked better than I expected. If we ever get somewhere where I can upload the video and pictures, I´ll update this entry to include a few links to the best ones.The hotel had a restaurant with the name of Bonkers and was owned by an Englishman. It wasn´t bad, despite the attempts by the owner to t
urn it into some sort of Tobagon Faliraki (of "Club Reps" infamy); the bar staff were wearing t-shirts with slogans such as "Get smashed at Bonkers" and dodgy sounding cocktails. Fortunately the customers weren´t falling for it and the place stayed nice and mellow, apart from the odd screech of "ello!" from Bonkers the macaw and his buddy the toucan.Esther passed her course with flying colours, and in the process impressed the other divers with her ability not to breathe. For those of you that aren´t experienced divers, a bit of info; a tank of air can last different people different amounts of time. We use more air the more our muscles work, and if we´re nervous. The more experienced a diver, the longer they can make their air last. Well, Esther was quite happily puffing away on her supply as I got dangerously close to swimming-with-the-fishes permanently, and generated hardly and bubbles while I swam around in my own personal jacuzzi. Oh well, she always has been better in the water than me.
Dive certificates obtained, it was time to head off and see a bit more of what Tobago had to offer. We wandered down the road to Sheppy, the local car rental guy and headed off to brave the Tobago roads, dogs and all, in search of pirate treasure.
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