Given that I’ve been living on Roatan for over four years now, I get the question all the time: “so what’s your story?” Well, here it is: http://www.thescubageek.com/i-am-the-scuba-geek/.

The sweat runs down my brow in small torrents, cascading over my recently-shaved head and obscuring my vision with the tingle of salt that no rapid eye-blinking can remedy. I am poised: arms flexed, balance sturdy, legs braced, steady breathing. My opponent, despite being both fourteen inches and years my inferior, is equally prepared. The bell rings. My arms pump in rapid yet rhythmic alternation, delivering haymakers and uppercuts to the facial region of my foe. He ducks, weaves, and wallops a low kidney-shot to my torso, simultaneously crumbling my defenses and body with a single emphatic blow. I twitch on the ground in agony. Despite the fervent shaking of my arms, I remain unconscious on the floor. The time » read more «

Living in paradise ain’t easy. My feet have big, deep, and possibly infected cuts from walking barefoot several miles a day. The antibiotics do their best, but the constant tearing of the scabs from scuba diving coupled with the far-from-sterile humid environment of West End makes recovery a month-long process. I would be wearing shoes if I could find a single sandel in size 13 in Central America. My Chacos— supposedly indestructible—fell apart after nine months. (Not bad, actually: the average lifespan of my sandels down here is three months). So while I wait for the next RAS shipment to arrive, I am officially shoeless. Shoes wouldn’t be such a problem if my scooter worked. Things come in threes, I » read more «

Suspended eighty feet underwater, I have a few seconds to take in my surroundings. My heartbeat—the only sound I can hear—marks the time. My lungs are now less than a third the volume they were twenty seconds ago. Abdominal muscles clenched, I restrain the spasms of my diaphragm, willing myself to ignore the steady toxic accumulation of carbon dioxide in my body. Mere minutes from drowning, I am relaxed. The crack in which I am suspended is visible from the surface. Minutes earlier, as I floated on the surface deliberately slowing my breathing in anticipation of the dive, I studied the contour of this particularly severe crack in the reef, noting its abyssal blue hue atypical of most sand chutes. » read more «