Bahamas Day 3
Its day three and I’m starting to realize the conundrum of going on vacation to a liveaboard on which your significant other is employed. While one person is working really, really hard, one person is working really, really… not.
In addition to the usual tasks of driving and crewing the boat, Mark’s daily duties include filling the 22 tanks for each of the four or so dives a day…
mapping the divesite and briefing the customers on them…
…and attaching shark bait to the bottom of the ocean floor. But we’ll talk about that last one later. I, on the other hand, have spent the vast majority of time outside my leisurely camera dives doing this:
If you captioned this photo “posing in an unflattering position and using one’s underwater camera as a pillow” you are forgiven. However, I was going more for “reading in my favorite position on the boat.” While the lifeboats under that red canvas were quite hard, it was still a sought-after commodity and once I nabbed it I tried not to move too often. You know what they say, location, location, location:
After the first two dives of the day (featured in my next post!) I stayed in that exact spot for hours dozing between sleeping and reading until I heard a grand commotion at the back of the boat. Sniffing a kodak moment, I grabbed my camera and ran back to find out what all the fuss what about.
So I’ll just preface this by saying I think dead stuff is pretty gross. I would think that was a pretty universal statement if not for the international popularity of fishing and hunting as hobbies. Pretty much every person on the boat, barring myself, was giddy with excitement watching this massive barracuda get reeled in, giving a good fight on the way down. I was torn between my obsessive compulsive need to document my life and my fish scent gag reflex, so I compromised by snapping photos sideways while backing away and throwing up slightly in my mouth. I literally could not to watch as Mark took out a hammer and committed…. fish murder! Though he might defend it as assisted suicide for an attack victim.
Lucky for me the fishing adventures were coming to a close as we were heading into dock for a raucous New Year’s Eve on a quiet island in the middle of the Bahamas. I can think of one New Year’s resolution right off the top of my head: No more fishing.