Scuba Anyone? Taking a Dive Becomes Chic Way to Spend a Day

Mike Nelson, Lloyd Bridges’ character in Sea Hunt, would roll over in his watery grave.

Jacques Cousteau would at least roll his eyes.

Scuba diving, once the private realm of macho adventurers, has become a chic recreation for the upper middle class. Hard to believe, but these days, there are more yuppies than guppies in the water.

Registration for diving certification classes in Orange County is higher than ever, but a lot of those signing up have no intention of wasting their time shivering in the cool, less-than-pristine waters off the California coast.

They’ve got aquamarine dreams of fluorescent coral reefs and 80-degree water.

“I went to Club Med in Tahiti recently, took a resort class and did a little diving,” said Bob McBroom, an Irvine resident who was beginning certification classes at Black Bart’s dive shop in El Toro. “They sort of hold your hand, though, and I wanted to get more freedom.

“I mean I don’t think I’m going to go butt over tea kettle with this. I want to go back to Club Med this year, where the water’s warm and crystal clear, and there’s all the coral and fish.

“You want it to be relaxing. I’m not sure how relaxed you can be if it’s cold and you can’t see anything.”

McBroom and the rest of his class will find out in three weeks when they make their first ocean dives in the coves off Laguna Beach.

Lance DeMarco, a diving instructor in Dana Point, started scuba diving in Florida when he was 12, using a converted fire extinguisher bottle as an air tank. He marvels at the type of people you’re likely to meet underwater now.

“We get two different types in classes now,” he said. “The, uh, well-off folks and the working-class people. Out of a class of 12, at least half will be strictly what we call Caribbean divers. Maybe three or four will end up diving here or off Catalina.”

Chris and Melissa Elsner of Rancho Santa Margarita went to Tahiti on their honeymoon nine years ago and snorkeled there. At the time, Chris said that “staying down there would be a lot more fun than holding your breath” and that a recent interest in salt-water aquariums had re-kindled his and his wife’s curiousity about scuba diving.

“We expressed an interest in it and Chris’ parents gave us these lessons as a Christmas present,” Melissa said. “I love our fish and I want to swim with them.”

As are the majority of new-wave divers, the Elsners have no desire to spearfish. They’re seeking an escape from the 9-to-5 madness above the surface and are trying to absorb some of the tranquility of life beneath the sea.

“You could sell me a set of gills tomorrow,” Chris said, smiling.

But not all aspiring divers are as inspired as the Elsners. Jeanne Perry of Laguna Niguel says she is learning to dive to “take advantage of my dad’s boat,” but she seemed a bit bewildered when introduced to the self-contained underwater breathing apparatus (from which the acronym, SCUBA, is derived). And she admits she has mixed feelings about the scuba experience.

“I went snorkeling in Hawaii last summer and sort of got hooked,” she said. “I have friends who dive and my dad has been encouraging me. But I’m not a real strong swimmer and I’m kind of nervous. It’s just that I don’t know what to expect and if something goes wrong, I wonder if I’ll be able to handle it.”

Every year, thousands of tourists flock to Hanauma Bay , a marine preserve southeast of Honolulu. Diving there is an incredible experience for the first-timer. You can wade into waist-deep water, bend over and stick your mask underwater and see beautiful fish.

Take a short swim over the first coral reef and you’ll see hundreds of brightly colored fish living in a turquoise-and-white world.

Spots such as this abound in the Caribbean and South Pacific.

So, let’s say you’ve overcome your fears and you’re ready to take the plunge. Don’t worry about the first time. It won’t be an abyss.

It’ll be a swimming pool.

Certification cards are required to refill air tanks, rent equipment or board dive boats, so your first dive will be in a pool during a certification class. The instruction also makes a lot of sense if you want to dive . . . and survive.

The classes, which cost about $250 (including all equipment except mask, snorkel and fins), usually consist of six to nine hours of lecture, two dives in the pool and two or more ocean dives. Instructors pass on bits of vital information, such as “never hold your breath.” (Holding your breath while ascending can result in air embolism, a condition in which a potentially lethal air bubble enters the bloodstream).

Students practice removing, clearing and replacing their masks while submerged and learn how to deal with a number of other potential risks. All are skills that could come in handy . . . even if you only plan to drift lazily off the shore of some exotic tropical isle.

“The sport has gone crazy in the last couple of years,” said Dan Roberts, an instructor in Laguna Beach. “More and more people want to get certified before they go on vacation.

“The expense has always scared some people off because if you purchase all the equipment you need, you’ll be spending at least $1,000 and up to around $4,000. And the numbers (of pieces of equipment) scare people off, too, because you need a tank, a regulator, a buoyancy compensator (vest), a wet suit, instruments, a weight belt, mask and snorkel, boots, gloves, fins, a gear bag . . .

“But after the initial investment, it only costs $3 for air and you’re set. Look at all the people who (snow) ski. They spend thousands of dollars on equipment and clothes and then drop at least $50 more every time they ski.”

A number of diving shop managers say the scuba boom has been a mixed blessing for business. Classes are full, seven in the off-season, but a lot of new divers aren’t buying all the equipment.

They purchase a mask, snorkel, boots, fins and gloves, but then rent the rest in paradise.

A breeze had just begun to ripple the ocean surface as the black figure emerged through the small shore break and staggered to the beach like some creature in a bad monster movie.

Gary Richardson of Huntington Beach had been scouring the ocean floor off Diver’s Cove in Laguna Beach, looking for fish. Now he was searching through his bag for the Laguna Beach divers’ best friend: a handful of quarters.

He trudged up the steps from the beach to Cliff Street, slipped some quarters into a parking meter--four will buy you an hour--and got a fresh tank of air from the trunk of his car.

“I love to dive but not everyone can afford to go to Hawaii to do it,” he said. “The diving here isn’t so bad. You sometimes see lots of fish. Especially in the winter, when the water’s colder and there’s not as much plankton in the water.

“And the grunion are supposed to start running soon, so that should bring some big fish in closer to shore.”

Visibility in Laguna’s coves, which offer some of the best scuba-diving waters in California, averages 10 to 20 feet. But when the water temperature is in the mid-50s and the swell is small and not stirring up the sandy bottom, visibility can increase to about 40 feet.

Catalina Island is another favorite spot for many Southland divers. The water is clearer, but it’s just as cold.

Steve Clifford of Mission Viejo laughs when he hears people talk about the cold water off Southern California’s coast. He grew up diving in Lake Superior.

“I got hooked as a kid watching Jacques Cousteau,” he said. “Unfortunately, I lived in Minnesota. You should have seen what we went through before we dove. We wore these mitten-like gloves that you had to have somebody else put on. We brought thermoses full of warm water to pour down our suits to help with the initial shock.

“I remember one day we dove and my instructor said, ‘We’ve got solid ice on top and liquid ice underneath.’ The water temperature was between 33 and 32 degrees. I was taking real deep breaths that day. I was too young and too stupid to be the chicken and suggest going up. But I wanted to use that air up fast.”

In Minnesota, Clifford may have worried about freezing to death but at least he wasn’t afraid of being eaten alive. Sharks can be a diver’s worst nightmare. But Clifford say he sleeps just fine, thank you.

“I’ve made more than 300 dives here and I’ve seen two sharks, one here off Laguna and one in Catalina. They’re out there, there’s no doubt about that, but (scuba divers) are big and noisy, making all those bubbles, and they’re more afraid of us than we are of them.”

The threat of sharks, the water temperature and the poor visibility have done little to deter the crowds from Laguna’s coves, though. One instructor says he arrives at the beach at 5:30 a.m. and sleeps in his car for an hour, just to get a good parking spot.

The on-going battle between local residents and divers is escalating again.

Residents complain about early-morning noise and equipment strewn over sidewalks and driveways. Responsible divers say it’s a bad rap.

DeMarco teaches his students how to clear (depressurize) their regulators when changing tanks through the mouthpiece to eliminate the loud, hissing noise that occurs when valves are opened. He has his students suit up and strap on their tanks next to their cars, thereby carrying all their equipment to the beach in one load.

“Divers get the heat because they’re so recognizable because of their equipment,” DeMarco said. “One morning, I watched a guy honk his horn nine times for his golfing buddy to come out of the house. Then, when the neighbors look out of their windows, they see a bunch of divers.”

That rift figures to go on for a while, but the gap between an affluent Orange Countian and the salty, knife-on-the-wrist scuba diver is fast closing.

Heck, you can’t even tell one from the other, anymore. That guy in the Brooks Brothers suit might be in a wet suit the next time you see him. And he might be just as well-versed on how to pick the right regulator as where to go to get the best deal on a BMW.