Note: Y'all know what? I never finish a damn thing I set out to do. If I were you, I'd say, "Finish what you started, bitch!" and then tap my foot impatiently, until you finally forced me to tell you the rest of the story. Since it's been so damn long, MOTHERFUCKING January, PEOPLE!. I suck at storytelling.
Because I never come unprepared, here is a map! Thank you Lonely Planet.
You will notice that towards the middle of the map is Koror - that is where we started our day. We traveled by boat (about a three hour ride) to Peleliu, on the southeastern side of the island. It is at the tip, which makes it not only a beautiful place to dive, but a very dangerous place to dive. The currents are unmanageable at times. That being said, I present to you:
PART 4!
Just when I thought that I would crawl out of my skin, Ain signaled that our rest stop was up, and it was time for us to surface. I inflated my BCD slowly, mindful of the fact that even though it was amusing to POP! to the top like a champagne cork, it was more certainly not safe. Sometimes safe is boring, but I'd heard enough "bends" horror stories to know not to screw around out there. That, and Ain wouldn't dive with me anymore. Anyone who has been diving before knows that a good partner is hard to find. I definitely wasn't willing to sacrifice this one for a moment of whimsy.
As we bobbed at the top, a different captain zoomed up to us. Realizing that it wasn't Jack, I stayed back in the water, begging that the sharks weren't nibbling on my feet. "You in my boat?" he inquired, leading me to believe that all us haoles look alike when you're sopping wet and neck deep in water. "No," Ain answered, calling out, "We're with the other group." Thank God he had some tact, because nervous as I was already, I could see that Jack and our group with our boat were drifting farther and farther away as the current pulled us swiftly away from Peleliu and out towards the Philippine Sea. "Signal Jack, will ya? I REALLY would like to get out of the water," I whispered, not really wanting to sound as afraid as I was. Something just felt off.
Not more than 30 seconds later, Jack sped up, stopping the boat about 5 feet away from us. I swam over, shaking from cold. Being the intuitive person that he was, he reached down onto my back, waited until I unhooked my BCD and lifted the entire thing out of the water. He then reached down, pulled me over to the ladder and helped me up. We usually didn't do it that way - I'd hand him my stuff, float and stay in the water and frolic, but that dive had spooked me. Ain wasn't far behind me, and soon our whole group sat huddled in the hold of the boat, waiting for Ethan and the other 10 divers to surface. It was 4:30, with roughly an hour until sunset, and an hour and a half until pitch dark. "Those bastards better hurry," I spit out to no one in particular "I've got some festivities to attend to!"
Bummed that we had gotten less downtime than the other boat, we were gloomy, predicting what a ribbing we would take for sucking air. "I can't believe it, Ain, Alex!" Jess laughed in between mouthfuls of betelnut "You two are like fish! You ALWAYS come up last!" I just shrugged, wondering when the other group WOULD surface so we could get back. I had to primp! And by primp, I mean take a hot shower, comb my hair, throw on some shorts and some flip flops, and boogie on down to the disco, where the rest of the divers were. I had MY priorities straight.
Another five minutes passed with no sightings of the other boat members. Slowly, slowly, jovial chatter turned to silence. The five minutes turned to ten, and the silence turned to worry. Mutterings of "Where the hell are they?" punctuated the tense silence as we began to look expectantly towards the other captain, a mere 20 feet away from us.
"Where's your group?" Jess asked, conversationally, not wanting to worry the other divers. "I don't know," the captain admitted "I was following these two," he gestured to me and Ain, "the whole way. And they're with you're group. I lost the first group's bubbles a long time ago. I thought they would surface around here, where everyone else surfaced." I sat and listened to the words, not really believing the severity of them. It was 4:40. The sun was starting to set, but we would still see them, right?
At this point in time, they would've been down 70 minutes, almost unheard of for a 2nd dive. Especially with such a large group. Jess, Jack, and the other captain realized this, and we started a criss cross pattern, zig zagging back and forth from the edge of the island out into the sunset. If luck was with us, we would find them before dark. I held my breath and refused to blink, believing that this would help me to spot them. If we didn't find them before dark - I didn't even want to think about that. Exhaling, I expelled the thought and repeatedly scanned the horizon.
We stood in the middle of the boat, 10 divers and Jess, eyes peeled, always, always looking out towards the horizon. I felt helpless. I just SAW those damn people! Where was Ethan? Was he scared? He couldn't just be lost. After several turns it became quickly apparent that our runs were futile. Staring out into the ocean when the sun was setting was equivalent to looking into a flashlight. If they were far away, we'd never see them.
Jess radioed her sister, the captain of a giant live aboard that kept home in the waters of Palau. Thankfully, they were close enough that they could get to us within 30 minutes, around 5:20. The outlook was grim; with that kind of current, no one was able to predict just how far out they'd be. Or even if they'd surfaced at all. It was not unheard of for groups of divers to get stuck in crevices in the walls. My stomach turned over on itself, and I put my head down on my knees.
At Jess' insistence, Jack took us back to where we had eaten lunch as a whole group hours before, talking and laughing. It was a more humbled group now, as we were left there with each other and our thoughts - Jess, Jack, and the other captain returned back to the dive sites to continue their pattern. I doubt we would've been much help at that point. Panicked and overwhelmed ten that we were.
I pulled in on myself, listening to the snippets of whispered conversations going on around me. From what I could gather, there had been an equipment malfunction. The rest of the group hung at 50 feet while Ethan and the woman got a replacement tank. The group drifted and...nobody knew the rest. I just sat and waited, begging the sun not to hit the horizon too quickly. I had been on several night dives before - I knew how inky black it got out there. With a single floodlight at our disposal, we would be lucky to get home without hitting any reefs, much less discover a group of floating divers.
I kicked at the weeds around my feet, trying to avoid the thoughts crowding my brain. While Ethan and I were no longer "an item", we were still fairly close. We had dated exclusively the summer before in my first "intellectual" relationship. I don't think I had ever been around a man who was not only NOT interested in getting in my pants, he kept our relationship purely physical. Meaning, we kayaked, dove, jumped off cliffs and explored Palau. Every day. If he saw me shaking in my boots, which I did often, he'd just say "You can do it." And I would. After a four year dysfunctional relationship, his quiet confidence in my abilities did wonders for me. I don't think I ever thanked him for it, but I knew that if he was taken away, I would never get over the sense of loss. At that moment, I thought that if he was lost, I would never be able to get in the water again.