Diving, diving and more diving – choosing a school and other logistics

Why didn’t I actually explore Honduras? One word. Diving. Really? Is it that obvious? 

Two and a half years ago, my travel partner, Sam, and I booked our PADI Open Water course on the Thai island of Koh Tao. We loved it so much that we also completed the Advanced course. This has equipped us with the skills to be able to dive up to thirty metres in depth.  

The poster for Dreamgate’s cenote near Tulum Mexico. The hardest cenote to navigate. 

A couple of years on, and I proudly have thirty-two dives under my belt, ten of which were in the cenote caverns near Tulum in Mexico. Quite the achievement for someone that suffers from claustrophobia.

Me diving in a cenote

So what is that draws us to the dangerous impossible world below the depths of the ocean? The keyword here is ‘impossible’. Because impossible it is not. Not anymore. Modern day dive equipment is lightweight, (let’s forget about the oxygen tank for now…) streamline, and with professional yearly servicing, safe. The bottom line is, humans are not meant to breathe underwater, but with the combination of science and technology, we have access to a calming, tranquil environment, and the ability to observe the bizarre creatures that share the planet’s treasures with us.

Carwash – my favourite cenote

Entrance to Dreamgate

Diving can be an expensive hobby. It requires a range of equipment that is not compact and not really fit for travel. Here’s a list of the basics you need to dive:

• BCD (Bouyancy Control Device)
• Regulator
• Mask (with snorkel)
• Fins
• Wetsuit or drysuit (temperature depending)
• Weight belts and weights
• Oxygen tank

That’s quite the list, right? And that’s assuming you’re simply fun diving with a dive master to guide you. They will have other added extras equipped, such as a dive computer (this looks like a big waterproof watch) to monitor depth, time and navigation.

Oxygen tanks on our dive boat

So how exactly are we able to freely access this sport? Renting of course! The equipment is often included in the price when you book your fun dives or courses, but this is not always the case, so be sure to check. Even though it’s unnecessary for you to have your own gear, it is recommended that you purchase your own mask. There is nothing worse than not being able to find one that fits your face. An ill-fitting mask can lead to water leakage and an uncomfortable dive experience. It’s not much fun when your spectacles are too foggy or you have to keep stopping to clear them of flooding.

So you’re in a new coastal town and there’s a vast array of dive centres to choose from. Take your time to shop around. Check their online reviews, prices and photos. Go in and talk to them directly. Ask to see the equipment. Sometimes, it’s better and safer to pay more for your dives if the rental gear looks well maintained. You could even go as far as discussing the different dive sites they will take you to and what you might be able to see.

Sometimes, it simply pays to go with the cheapest option around, and after spending over $600 on ten fun dives in Tulum’s cenotes, I was looking for a bit of light relief on the purse strings.

As recommended by many, the island of Utila, an hour’s boats ride North of Honduras, is one of the cheapest places in the world to learn and enjoy diving. After extensive research online and a number of emails requesting prices/details, I chose the least expensive dive centre on the island. $210 for ten fun dives with five nights of accommodation and free use of their kayaks and snorkelling equipment. They even gave me an additional night free as I had nowhere to stay when I arrived. This awesome place is called Paradise Divers. It is conveniently located right next to the dock, so I didn’t even need to haul my backpack any further than a few hundred metres. Always a travel bonus.

View of Paradise from the ferry 

It was low season when I arrived, so the centre was very quiet, but they were still putting on a big barbecue for all their friends that night and had invited the diving guests. I instantly felt welcome. In a three bed dorm, I had the room to myself for the entire week. Just in front of the reception was a common area with tables and benches for you to eat, socialise, or more importantly, crack open a bottle of post-dive beer. We also had our own dock where the dive boat was moored. I loved being able to sit on the front of the boat at night and look up at the stars, feeling the gentle sway of the vessel, dreaming about what I would see among the reefs the following day.

Fabulous fresh meat on a makeshift barbecue

Every morning, a fisherman would use our dock to sell his freshly caught tuna to the locals. I bought a pound of fully filleted tuna for the equivalent of £1.77! I ate like a backpacking queen for two nights in a row.

Our friendly local fisherman at the dock

The best part of my day was talking to my dive master, Negro, after a morning of exploring Utila’s plentiful reefs. He would excitedly sit beside me with a marine book, specific to the area, and point out all the sea life we’d encountered. His oozing passion inspired me to compose a list (see next blog post for said list, and my own, ‘National Geographic’ worthy, photography) so that I never forget the names of each fish, shrimp or eel that we were lucky enough to meet.

Dive Master, Negro, blowing bubbles

I will forever sing the praises for Paradise Divers and will recommend them to everyone. Yes, the equipment is mis-matched and a bit tired but it is in full working order, and it just made me more aware of completing checks to make sure I would be diving safely. Using top notch equipment all the time doesn’t make the best diver out of you. If you’re serious about the sport, and want to explore a career option, you need to be able to recognise signs of equipment failure, learn about servicing and know how to respond in case of an emergency.

Fellow diver, Logan, with instructor, Juli. Logan passed his Open Water Certification that day

Admittedly, when I was researching Utila’s abundance of dive schools, I was almost put off by a terrible review on trip advisor. I read it a couple of times and decided that the author was probably over-reacting; it was titled, ‘Almost Died’, which, under the expertise of the staff, I know would never have happened. So I took a chance and booked my ten fun dives with them. The day before I got to Utila, I met a couple from England that had steered clear of Paradise due to the same review.

Clara from Paradise, showing me the beautiful reefs that Utila has to offer

Please think carefully when writing your opinions online as they can be really damaging for a company, especially those smaller struggling business. If you have a genuine concern about a service, try to speak to the manager/owners directly, before tarnishing their reputation on the internet. We don’t want to live in a world of Monopoly do we? We want to live in a world of choice, fairness, and sustainable tourism.


This post was written in El Tostador, a café in the centre of San José, Costa Rica. Their double espressos are like liquid gold. I had a breakfast of huevos revueltos con tostadas y guanabana batidos en agua (scrambled eggs with toasts and a soursop smoothie with water).

…Advanced Course!

So I just found this blog post on my Kindle. I suppose I should upload it. Yeah.

Once we got back to DJL reception, signed our dive logs and had an attractive photo taken for our dive licenses, Sam and I decided to book the advanced course, starting the following day. At roughly 8000 baht, £145, (we received a helpful ten percent discount for taking the PADI course) and with a couple of days to spare before we had to be in Bangkok, we couldn’t pass up the opportunity for more time with the fishes. But first, we had to attend the Koh Tao pub crawl to celebrate our open water diving success. If you head to the island yourself, I definitely recommend the lady boy cabaret show. It’s brilliant.

Anyway, back to the diving. The advanced course consists of five dives in the space of two days. It’s pretty intense, and there are skills that need to be completed, but they mostly turn out to be fun dives. As a group, we decided to do the following:

– Navigation dive (compulsory)
– Peak performance buoyancy (compulsory)
– Night dive
– Wreck dive
– Deep dive

As interesting as it sounds, the wreck dive wasn’t as exciting as I was expecting. My favourite was the night dive. I was initially worried about heading 30 metres below sea level at night because I thought the darkness would make me feel claustrophobic, but it actually had the opposite affect. Even though there were other divers around the site at the same time as us, (not as many as during the day, though) it still felt like we were the only people in the entire ocean. I know the sea is vast anyway, but somehow it just felt, bigger. Our instructor, Jo, gave each of us a torch, not only for light, but for communication. If any of us were to see anything of interest, we were to slowly circle it with the beam of the torch, being careful not to shine it in the eyes of the marine life.

I don’t think I’ve ever come across a feeling that night diving instilled within me. It’s one of those places that you would go to put issues and worries on hold, because you just don’t tend to think about crap like that when you’re able to bob along next to the colourful wonders of the ocean floor with your newly acquired buoyancy.

So, £320 later, and I am officially an advanced open water diver. I didn’t think I’d ever take to island life. I’m not really a beachy person. But it was very difficult leaving Koh Tao. Diving isn’t just a sport or a hobby, in the six days that I spent in the company of divers, I realised that it’s a way of life. Getting up early for a 6am dive is never a problem when you know you’re going to be heading out on a boat for the day. Thank you Davy Jones. Thank you very much.

Koh Tao Take Two

Okay, so I’ve just realised that I’m behind by roughly twenty-four blog posts, and now that I’m editing this, it’s probably more like thirty. I better get started.

This time, I will actually write about Koh Tao.

Four hours after arriving in Thailand from Kuala Lumpur, we boarded the 10pm sleeper ferry from Chumphon. Despite the Hobbit sized beds, the mattresses were comfortable, and I managed to sleep for the full six sailing hours. I would recommend this mode of transport, that is, I would have, if we hadn’t arrived on Koh Tao at 5am, four hours before we could check into our accommodation. If you should choose this option over the high speed catamaran, I can however, recommend a top notch stone bench outside Davy Jones’ Locker (where my dive journey begins: http://www.davyjoneslocker.asia/ ).

After observing the early morning island life of divers heading out to the longtails with their gearbags, and drunk backpackers stumbling the wrong way home, we checked in, paid for the dive course, and hit the beach. Not before I slapped on the factor fifty, though.

The course started at 4pm that same day. Who needs to nap when your first lesson is in the classroom, watching videos?

For future information, (because I know you’ve all going to want to take a dive course after this) our Padi followed this syllabus:

DAY 1
– Classroom: watching videos and filling in questionnaires (roughly 3 hours)

DAY 2:
– Morning pool session: instructors distribute health and safety information which is then implemented in the pool. Here you will learn and practice the Padi skills (3 hours)
– Break for lunch
– Back to the classroom: last few videos and questionnaires. (You are often given the option to do the exam, too. As a whole group we decided to get it out of the way. so our session took about 3 hours)

DAY 3:
– Two dives and basic skills

DAY 4:
– Two dives and basic skills
– Qualification! (You have to have your photo taken for your dive license. I recommend having it straight after the dives, it’s more authentic that way. You may not even have a choice either way).

Side note: I am claustrophobic and my biggest fear is drowning.

The first dive is always going to be pretty daunting. So why was I the only one that looked like I’d forgotten how to breathe and speak? Like a line of ants, we descended a rope at the end of a fellow dive boat. I probably hadn’t even reached the five metre mark before my ears started compressing. I tried all the techniques I knew to equalize, wiggling my jaw, blowing against the ear drum, etc. Nothing worked. I stopped breathing. A diver should never stop breathing. Ever. It’s the number one rule. I panicked. Without realising, I’d ascended to the surface. Fortunately, our dive master trainee, Arno, followed me. He calmed me down. It took about ten minutes for the pain to subside.

“Do you want to try again?”
“I don’t know. I want to. I’m nervous.”
“Five more minutes?”
“Okay.”

We floated in silence.

“I want to try again.”
“Okay.”
“Slowly?”
“Very. Equalize every time you move down the rope.”

With Arno’s guidance, I successfully made it to the bottom where my group sat waiting.

At this point, I’ll give you a handy hint: it’s not a very good idea to smile when your knees touch the sand, no matter how proud you are of yourself. You don’t want your mask to flood before you’ve even attempted it as a skill.

I’ll never forget that first trip out on the boat. I generally felt ready to quit before I’d completed one dive. Without my patient safety net, Arno, I wouldn’t have given myself the opportunity to become addicted to the hobby I never thought I would be able to try in the first place.

Oh, and before I go, yes, I did qualify. I may have also splashed out on another course, the…