As of: March 1, 2024, 2:46 p.m
By: Luis Teschner
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During my diving course in the Caribbean I was able to overcome my fear of the ocean.
© Luis Teschner
Pretty much anything could be floating around in the ocean and I can't see it in the depths.
At least that's what I always thought.
Now I know better.
As a child I read the book “The Swarm” by Frank Schätzing.
I found it fascinating and incredibly exciting - but just as scary.
The idea of what lives in the ocean that we have no idea about overwhelmed me.
Above all, I couldn't forget the aspect that the sea creatures are angry with people and recognized it as fiction.
From then on, every time I couldn't see what was below me while swimming, I feared that I would be attacked by an orca.
Especially when I could no longer stand.
Instead, I mostly limited myself to swimming pools and shallow areas where I could see everything.
Where no killer whale could surprise me.
Even in bathing lakes I regularly got conditions when I couldn't rule out a crocodile danger due to greenish algae water.
I had no interest in paradisiacal diving destinations.
What waits in the depths of the ocean?
A diving course gave me answers – and took away my fears
A good ten years later, on a longer backpacking trip, I found myself, somewhat by chance, on the Caribbean diving island of Utila in Honduras, Central America.
It was just so conveniently on the path and I thought, why not.
Because I'm a person who gets bored very easily, the Caribbean beaches only entertained me for a few days.
However, there isn't much to do on Utila other than diving and slowing down.
So I had no other choice because I found the island very beautiful.
I decided to learn to dive.
So on the first day I stand in front of the screen with shaking knees and have someone explain to me how not to die underwater.
The theory part of the “Open Diver” course – roughly the equivalent of the seahorse – is easy for me and goes by quickly.
But things really get going in the afternoon.
The wetsuit sticks restrictively to my body, the regulator is a gag in my mouth.
We only dive on the beach in front of the diving school, but I have to prove that I understand the equipment.
To do this, you “only” go down five meters and then you have to take off your diving mask, put it on, let it fill with water and blow it out again.
Remove the oxygen tank and put it back on.
Swapping regulators with my diving buddy as training for emergencies.
I find out that it seems extremely unnatural to my body to breathe underwater.
Every breath goes against my instincts.
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After a day of diving school I'm ready to give up
This actually purely formal training demands everything from me.
A ship has kicked up the sand and I can hardly see anything.
I have to resurface regularly because I can't cope underwater.
Despite being surrounded by instructors and other course participants, I feel very uncomfortable in the ocean and just want to be back on land.
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That same evening, I'm ready to drop the course and accept that the ocean isn't my thing.
But the good encouragement from my new diving friends and, above all, the knowledge that there isn't much else to do on this wonderful island makes me give diving another chance.
On my first real dive I learn to love the ocean
The next day is my first real dive in the deeper, open ocean and I almost shit my pants in the boat there.
My instructor assures me to stay low if I panic and want to surface at the sight of the first larger fish.
It sounds murderous at first, but emerging from greater depths too quickly is actually very dangerous.
Nevertheless, I dare to jump into the water, fully loaded with oxygen.
They look a bit scary, the moray eels.
(Symbolic image) © Rolf von Riedmatten/Imago
Today the water is much clearer and I can see more ocean than ever before.
We quickly dive to a depth of ten to 15 meters and I can hardly believe it.
There are fish all around me and I can see everything, literally everything.
I'm not afraid and I surprise everyone, especially myself. Then we start exploring the area.
After a short while, my diving instructor signals with a hand signal that he has spotted a moray eel.
His co-teacher immediately swims over me because he knows I find these animals particularly scary.
But she is far away and I know that nothing will happen to me.
I stay calm.
“The swarm” can no longer harm my diver self
Back on land I actually only want one thing: straight back into the water.
So it continues for the next few days.
I quickly finished the “Open Diver” course and started the next one.
As an “Advanced Open Diver” I dive to depths of up to 40 meters.
A barracuda swims right past my arm (and I survive).
I experience the ocean up close and learn that no one here actually wants me any harm.
My fear gives way to other feelings: curiosity – and pride.
On one of my last days I have a night dive.
This is where I get a little nervous again because at night you can only really see what you shine a flashlight on.
In between we even turn off our lamps completely and let ourselves be guided only by the moonlight and the glowing plankton.
I'm not afraid because I saw during the day that there is nothing for me to be afraid of here.
The big, blinking question marks that made my brain alert at the sight of deep water are gone.
My subconscious finally recognized “The Swarm” for what it is: fiction (and the most expensive German TV series of all time).
Fiction that has absolutely nothing to do with my now beloved ocean.