God’s Aquarium

Twenty feet underwater, the color red disappears, absorbed by the sea. By 35 feet, orange is gone too. Yellow begins to vanish next. Even violets and greens weaken. So down here at 100 feet below the surface, we are enveloped in blue--vivid hues of aquamarine and sapphire, cerulean and cornflower, sun-streaked turquoise and shady hyacinth. Farther below, the blues darken; indigo becomes cobalt. Then somewhere straight beneath, even blue flickers out as the sea swallows all light.

My dive buddy, Liisa, and I are drifting along the face of a cliff, racing along--flying, actually--on a Caribbean current. In front of us: the fantastic architecture of a coral reef, with its caverns and tunnels and buttresses and spires. Behind us, open water. Below, only the deep.

Scuba divers around the world know this as Santa Rosa Wall. It is one of more than 40 named dive sites off the southwest coast of Cozumel Island.

Ashore, people will ask, what did you see down there? By that they mean, what was special among the gulping moray eels, the ballet of eagle rays, scowling groupers, drum fish with their trailing ribbon-like fins, brain corals the size of houses, hawksbill turtles, sponges as big as garbage cans, metallic barracuda with fangs like guitar picks.

But the catalog of what the eyes behold fails by leagues to convey the experience, the feeling, of being submerged in a world where all sensations, even beauty and danger, are altered. Drift diving along the coral reef is where adventure and tranquillity embrace.

At any moment, almost anything can appear, or happen, in the open ocean. You can get no closer to wild, untouched nature than to swim in it. Yet a great weight is lifted from a person. Even with 20 pounds of lead strapped to the waist and the cumbersome apparatus of scuba hoisted on shoulders, one floats more perfectly than a feather on a breeze. Utterly relaxed, arms crossed and fins dangling, aware of each breath, a diver glides weightless with the flow of liquid blue.

We had come to this island off Mexico’s Yucatan Peninsula in May to see if diving was for us. A week later we departed devotees, my dive log, I’m afraid, having exceeded a writer’s yearly quota of exclamation points.

In a reader survey earlier this year, Rodale’s Scuba Diving magazine found Cozumel to be the most popular diving destination in the world. It ranked second by a whisker to Egypt’s Red Sea for the crystal clarity of its water, and second to Cay Sal Bank, Bahamas, in dollar value. The readers’ three favorite dive sites were off Cozumel (Santa Rosa Wall being No. 2). The most popular dive operator and dive hotel also were in Cozumel.

To our thinking, diving seemed adventure enough, so we came wholly packaged and vouchered. It turned out that the purchasing power of a U.S. dive travel packager, in our case the Seattle-based Tropical Adventures, got us a better deal than we could have obtained on our own, and without hitches.

Two hours after landing at Cozumel’s tidy resort airport, we are outside the shop of Dive Paradise, our scuba operator, ready for our “welcome tank” dive.

Just a month earlier, Liisa and I had completed our basic open-water certification in the cold Pacific off the West Coast. Now, standing on the rock landing that leads into the Caribbean like stairs in a pool, we are headed for our first dive without the company of an instructor.

The purpose of a welcome tank is to re-familiarize rusty divers with the equipment. And it gives everyone a chance to adjust their weight belts so they can descend and maintain position underwater.

I’ll admit, we look like geeks. Fortunately, no one is watching. We bob helplessly with too little weight. Then we load on too much and flail our way out to an artificial reef composed of cast-off tires, engine parts and beer bottles. At just 25 feet down, the junk pile teems with exotic fish and crustaceans, a hint of what awaits us.

To digress a moment: I am no authority on diving, just a middle-aged beginner. But I sought out experts in advance of this trip, and I followed their advice. On some of it, I knew, our well-being would rest.

A few points proved salient: Cozumel is a diving bargain, but bargain fever should be kept in check when choosing a dive operator. There are 100 to 150 scuba operations on the island, and little safety regulation. We chose Dive Paradise on the recommendation of our packager, and because the Scuba Diving readers rated it No. 1.

We were entirely pleased. We spoke with 40 other Dive Paradise customers and heard nothing but praise for the day-to-day efficiency and the easy professionalism of the dive staff.

The Fiesta Inn, situated across the street from the ocean, also ranked No. 1 in the magazine poll. It proved to be modern, sleepy, clean and adequately appointed--although the hotel restaurant was sufficiently marginal, even for breakfast, to justify the 20-minute walk into San Miguel, Cozumel’s one town, for alternatives.

Next trip we might consider spending extra for an ocean view and livelier atmosphere, but we hadn’t come here for resort amenities.

At 8 a.m. on our first dive day, a cheerful man with a Dive Paradise T-shirt is waiting at the hotel dock to see us aboard the 46-foot turbo-diesel boat Atlantis. There are 15 other divers, divided into two groups, each led by a dive master. The crew informally polls the divers. Where have they been already, and where do they want to go? Somehow a consensus is achieved, and a course is set for Santa Rosa Wall.

Cozumel accommodates many novice divers like us, but it is not novice diving. Perpetual current, sheer walls, deep and tunneled reefs are part of almost every dive. For our first foray, we’ve arranged to hire our own dive master for $35, a service that Dive Paradise calls “peace of mind.” We won’t have to worry about keeping pace with a group.

The trip takes about an hour over smooth seas. We’re traveling in a fleet of boats large and small, headed for the vast system of reefs that fringes the sheltered southwestern corner of the island. When the Atlantis slows to an idle, I lean over the rail for a look below. From the surface, the shimmering aquamarine could be 15 feet deep or 50.

Diving generates the same tingles of anxiety and anticipation that arise with any authentic outdoor experience. We savor it. No small talk or horseplay now. Even experienced divers are absorbed with their thoughts and their checklists.

Victor, our dive master, reviews our hand signals and the dive plan, which includes a mandatory three-minute safety pause during our ascent--extra insurance against decompression problems.

Ponderously laden and sweating inside our wetsuits, we shuffle aft and step out into the water. Instantly, all discomfort dissolves. I find it odd that there is no sensation of wetness down here, only weightlessness.

When the bubbles clear, I see a flat sand bottom below us and the shadows of fish.

There are many reasons Cozumel’s diving is unsurpassed, and chief among them is some of the best year-round visibility anywhere. I am no expert, but it seems as if I can see clearly for 150 feet around me. I can also see that the current--Cozumel’s famous underwater wind--is sweeping us north at the pace of a fast walk.

We exhale deeply to reduce our buoyancy and float to the bottom like dandelions. The depth gauge reads 50 feet.

We exchange OK signals and then fin gently toward a lumpy, dark reef. It swarms with fish--butterfly and angel and parrot, damsels and gobies and grunts, trunkfish and squirrel fish too. This is the aquarium God built.

Then, with a feeling like flying low over the rim of the Grand Canyon, we soar past the cliff edge of the reef. The wall drops away, down more than 1,000 feet. My stomach quivers, and a trickle of water leaks past the edge of my regulator mouthpiece because I have let myself smile.

For the next 20 minutes, we ride the warm current, hugging the upper face of the wall. We see a pair of large eagle rays pulsing below in their slow-motion liquid dance. Without realizing it, we are drawn toward them. The depth gauge reads 100 feet--deeper than our dive plan. Victor motions us up to 80.

We follow him toward the coral face, and suddenly we are inside a tunnel, swimming into the reef itself. Protected from the current, we kick gently so as not to touch the living walls and snake single-file through the narrow bore. In the days ahead, we will bring dive lights, which transform these shadowy swim-throughs into wraparound kaleidoscopes of color.

When we finally surface, we find that the Atlantis has drifted along with us, and its captain maneuvers the boat within hand reach.

On board, we snack on fruit and sodas. Then, after our one-hour surface interval, we dive a second, shallower reef. By 1 p.m. we are back at the dock, invigorated.

At first we had wondered if our Cozumel package offered more diving than we could want. Not so. Each day, mythical and mystical reefs beckon us--Palancar, Paso del Cedral, Las Palmas, Tormentos. We dive twice in the morning and, most days, once in the afternoon. Our skills and confidence increase. And after 14 dives, we decide to tack on one more: the otherworldly experience of going underwater at night.

Longtime divers will tell you Cozumel has gone to hell. Used to be that divers could claim the island as theirs. Now, although there may be 1,000 people a day diving the reefs, the soul of the place has been given to the cruise ships, which dock at the rate of one or two a day even in shoulder seasons.

And who can begrudge the town its fondness for the party crowd that drops in for a few hours? A diver, aware that booze, dehydration and fatigue can contribute to decompression problems, may live it up on two cervezas a night, while a cruise-ship passenger might require three just to make the one-block trip from the Hard Rock to Carlos ‘n Charlies.

Cozumel is more than chain establishments, however; it maintains an authenticity lacking in some of the government-planned Mexican resorts. We dined nicely, almost exotically, at open-air restaurants (although at urban U.S. prices, never less than $30 per person). A thin and succulent filet of grouper, steamed in a banana leaf, would bring us back to Pancho’s Backyard. The flambe shrimp and private-label tequila transformed dinner at Santiago’s Grill into a carnival. The pecan waffles were worth the 6 a.m. walk to Jeanie’s Waffle House.

How the T-shirt came to anchor retail economies of resorts worldwide has always baffled me, so I find it paradoxical now to report that my favorite shopping stop was for tees. Just a half-block from the waterfront on Rosado Salas at his hole-in-the-wall “Mayan Batik Factory,” Carlos Tello will sketch out the most astonishing custom designs--for me, a giant octopus with tentacles wrapping around my neck. Overnight, he paints your design in lavishly detailed batik for $15. Chances are, you’ll come back for another. Because you will come back to Cozumel.

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GUIDEBOOK

Divine Diving

Getting there: There is no nonstop airline service to Cozumel from Los Angeles, but Continental, Aeromexico and Mexicana have connecting flights (involving a change of planes). Round-trip fares start at $428.

Booking dives: Specialty packagers offer a range of room and dive packages; some include air fare. We used Tropical Adventures, based in Seattle; telephone (800) 247-3483, fax (206) 441-5431, Internet https:// www.divetropical.com.

For seven nights’ lodging and five days of boat diving in Cozumel, their prices range from $405 per person for bare-bones accommodations (double occupancy) to $549 for the mid-range and $841 and up for high-end hotels. Winter rates are higher by 15% to 30%.

To find a reliable packager, ask at your local dive shop. A few in the L.A. area with experience in dive travel are: Malibu Divers, tel. (310) 456-2396; Reef Seekers in Beverly Hills, tel. (310) 652-4990; and Dive ‘n’ Surf, Redondo Beach, tel. (310) 372-8423.

For more information: Mexican Government Tourism Office, 2401 W. 6th St., 5th Floor, Los Angeles, CA 90057; tel. (213) 351-2069, fax (213) 351- 2074, Internet https://www .mexico-travel.com.