In the past, some people have said that rebreathers will revolutionize diving and that they are the way of the future for sport diving. While I doubt that will ever be true unless they become a lot cheaper and a lot simpler, it will most likely be the way of the future for deep technical diving. The reality is using a rebreather over open circuit in any setting is about risk-benefit. Does the benefit justify the risk? I suppose you need to define your purpose for wanting the rebreather to truly answer that question. In some cases the answer may be yes and in other cases it may – or should be – no. In our case, our purpose for wanting them centered on the need for equipment more appropriate for dives in excess of 200-250 feet. We also wanted to be able to go offshore without the logistical hurdles of trying to figure out how we could dive for several days with a few sets of doubles. Of course there’s no denying that open circuit trimix diving is costly – lots of gas, lots of time filling cylinders, lots of money. The rebreather can save time and money in this regard… sort of.

But let’s forget about money – because let’s face it; there’s no actual "savings" in rebreather diving. The entry cost for getting into a rebreather is about $12,000-$14,000 on average, including training and miscellaneous supplies to "get started." How much were those trimix fills again? Ok. To me, the rebreather is an investment. It’s an investment in your diving. If you aren’t serious about diving, or you aren’t rich, then getting into a rebreather is just a waste of time and money – and may well present real dangers. A commitment is absolutely necessary.

With all this in mind, Dave and I decided it was time to make this move. We were ready. Despite popular belief (urban legend?) that I was not a fan of rebreathers, the truth is, it is not so much that I am "anti-rebreather" – its more that I am not a fan of how some people dive rebreathers. I don’t believe in lateral moves. I don’t believe in skimping on bail out gas. Another thing stopping us from pursing rebreathers was a lack of what we believed were good choices. Now, as of 2005 at least, there’s a bunch of mixed gas CCRs out there (though I don’t know if the choices are any better) – the Inspiration, Megalodon, Ouroboros, KISS, Optima, MK 15.5/16, and of course the PRISM. Some of these rebreathers were cut from the list pretty quickly for various reasons. It came down to two rebreathers and we ultimately decided on the PRISM Topaz.

Steam Machines, manufacturer of the PRISM, has a reputation of building a well engineered rebreather that has been around for a long time in rebreather years, but also has a reputation of not building them in a timeframe most people find acceptable. Admittedly, this "forever and a day" timeframe wasn’t enthusiastically embraced by us, but we went into it with our eyes wide open. We had to put down a nonrefundable deposit – $2000 per rig – and wait. How long? Long. We put our money down in April 2005, were promised January 2006 (which was acceptable to us since our training was not going to take place until Jan/Feb 2006 – our choosing). Of course we missed January, and at the time of this writing, we do not have a firm delivery date other than "we’re close." But, this is how it goes. We chose this rebreather for other reasons, which in my opinion has made it worth the wait.

So what about this rig? There were several features that this rebreather has that others don’t that we believed were critical to our safety. First and most obviously, the PRISM has a fully analog secondary display. It is powered only by the output of the sensors – batteries not required. With this secondary it is possible to take a direct read of all 3 sensors, check the setpoint and battery status. The "heads up display" or HUD was extremely simple – this is the only primary. Briefly, the HUD’s light array indicates low/high/really high ppO2, if the rig is at setpoint, if a sensor has been voted out, if the rebreather has "shut down", if the battery is low. There are no flashing lights to count and there are no other handsets or gauges (other than the secondary and SPGs) to monitor. The whole rig is powered by an extremely accessible 9 volt battery.

What else? The counterlungs are over the shoulder – annoying yes, but advantageous for several reasons and just something you have to buy into if you’re going to dive rebreathers – you’re going to feel a little cluttered out front. Starting from the breathing side, diluent is plumbed in to the counterlung. There’s an automatic diluent addition valve that is actuated by collapsing the lung or manually depressing the valve against the striker plate. If desired, it is possible to breathe open circuit while still on the loop (inhale from the counterlung and exhale out your hose). This was critical to us. Many rebreather designs plumb in oxygen into the breathing side of the loop. This means pure oxygen is on its way to your lungs after entering the counterlung. I would never own a rebreather that had this "feature" if you can call it that. If you want to have open circuit gas, it is essentially sitting on your shoulder with this rig.

On the exhalation side of the rebreather the oxygen is plumbed in. The manual addition valve is located along the inboard side of the counter lung, which protects it from accidental addition of oxygen should it come into contact with something. The OPV is on the exhalation side and has a sensitive spring installed to vent appropriately. In other words, it is not your standard exhaust valve.

Once gas enters the scrubber, this is where mixing occurs. Oxygen is injected just before exhaled gas enters the scrubber. This ensures good mixing. The area is also isolated from the sensors. The gas enters a radial scrubber. Radial scrubbers have several advantages and this was, again, critical to our choice of the PRISM. A radial scrubber will still function with the unit nearly half flooded whereas an axial design will not since gas must go down before it can go up or out. Gas enters through the center, and radiates out. This minimizes channeling associated with axial and bi-axial designs where breakthrough occurs at the midpoint (and the corners are not accessed). Radial scrubbers also tend to have lower breathing resistance. The PRISM has a 5 hour duration on it’s scrubber – in cold water.

The scrubber basket is a basket, which helps prevent channeling along the walls and insulated by an air barrier, which retains heat and moisture – two essential components for activating the CO2 absorbing material. When the gas leaves the scrubber, it enters the chamber where the oxygen sensors are located. The PRISM uses 3 galvanic oxygen sensors. Gas exits the chamber and flows into the inhalation side of the counterlung – and then you breathe it. You know your ppO2 when that gas enters your lungs.

There are a few other key features – the solenoid is outside the breathing loop, so a leak here does not leak oxygen into the system. The design of the counterlungs and breathing hoses are such that the counterlungs function as a water trap. There is no straight line between the scrubber and your lungs – which is important to minimize the risk of a caustic cocktail or water entering your mouth.

While I am sure I am leaving things out with regard to a full engineering breakdown, but the point of this description is to explain a little bit about why we chose this rebreather – the features perhaps unique to this design but most of all, important to us.

Once we decided on the rebreather, we chose our instructor. When we were doing our due diligence on the final two choices at Beneath the Sea in 2005 we had the opportunity to meet Peter Readey and Ron Scorese. Peter Readey designed the PRISM and Ron is one of the most active, and definitely one of the most experienced PRISM instructors/divers out there. Both of these individuals took the time to explain the rig to us in detail and to answer our questions honestly. They were both the first ones to say – you have to do the research on this and make your own choice. No other rebreather manufacturer took the time to walk us through the unit. Bottom line – the PRISM isn’t the prettiest looking rebreather out there, but that really doesn’t matter to me, nor does it matter to me if you can run it over with a car or not. I wanted to see the data – numbers – actual facts about how this rig performs. No one else could provide that.

The PRISM has been extensively tested by the US Navy and non-classified results have been published. There are hard numbers to back up the performance of this unit and those numbers reflect that the PRISM performed well, exceeding Navy specifications. Some other well known rigs out there that were tested have been classified as "not suitable for human use" – but the manufacturers don’t tell you that when you buy it.

The instructor database is small for the PRISM. For starters, Steam Machines is very selective about who can teach on this rig. Second, there’s a strong link between Steam Machines and NAUI Technical Diving Operations, which obviously further limits who can offer training. The upshot is this rig fits into the infrastructure of NAUI Tec quite well, which was good for us in a number of ways. For this reason, the best choice in our mind was to train with Ron – one of only two NAUI Tech instructor trainers in the Northeast US. He was up-front with us, fair and right off the bat I could see we shared the similar philosophies about diving – especially regarding bail out gas. Following the show we made the necessary arrangements to secure deposits on the rig. Ron spent a lot of time with us, answering all our questions and even let me rant about the non-committal delivery date before I finally gave up the ghost.

Planning for a rebreather purchase is kind of like planning to have a controlled hemorrhage in a tub of warm water – good luck. There’s pretty much no way to deal with a combined $24,000 purchase in a manner that doesn’t hurt, especially when it’s time to "accessorize."

In January 2006 we met in New York for a classroom session. Going through the academics and engineering would gain us at least 1.5-2 days of diving Roatan, so this was time well spent. Ron went through a detailed step by step discussion of how the unit worked, getting everyone thinking aloud and reasoning through the logic of the design. We had several units to look over and inspect. There were all sorts of additions/modifications that looked appealing – like a quick disconnect system to port gas carried in a bailout bottle into the first stage of the diluent regulator. This would allow you to port in offboard gas without doing anything other than turning a ball valve – sort of like a gas block, but the first stage is the block for all intents and purposes. Other rigs had special hose covers, backplate and chasse designs, delrin caps for hoses when not in use, etc. Basically, it meant there was like another $1000 worth of stuff we just had to have…

Of course we aren’t even talking about the spare parts – and you do need spare parts. That’s a whole other thing unto itself. Pretty much everything seems to cost "$450" short of o-rings.

After our weekend in New York we had a pretty solid understanding of the rebreather in theory. Ron walked us through numerous troubleshooting and "what if" scenarios to test our fundamental understanding of ppO2 and loop volume. We were quizzed until bleary eyed on HUD lighting. The other divers in our class were all very experienced divers so things were moving along smoothly – trimix instructors, cave divers, wreck divers – some who we’ve known and some we were just meeting. We all hit it off and we’re excited to be in the class together.

Since we didn’t have our personal rigs Ron secured rebreathers for us to use, which was really great and kept us on track to train in Roatan the first week in February. Packing these rigs for travel is no small feat. They are fragile and need to be packed well. We broke everything down with the head and secondary traveling in a Pelican case, which we carried. The rest of the rebreather could pack into itself between the plate chasse and cover. The cases were large and no doubt would be over the new baggage limit of 50 pounds per piece. We packed the tanks with the rest of our gear and brought a minimal amount of clothes. Otherwise we didn’t need much else, which was good because we had enough.

With an early morning flight to Houston and then connecting on to Roatan we had a long day of travel ahead of us on February 4^th. We had about 6 hours of flying with another 6 hours from a layover, which seemed like a long time, but when traveling with large baggage, some of which that looks explosive, more time is usually better than less. We had a strange diversion on the way from Houston to Roatan (flying TACA airlines), but the trip was otherwise uneventful. On descent into Roatan we suddenly began climbing again and flying the wrong way – i.e. away from the island. There was a garbled message in Spanish called out over the intercom but otherwise there was no information. The vast majority of the passengers were American "reef bashers" from land-locked states on a "Roatan or Bust" warm water adventure. Half of the plane didn’t even realize something had occurred. Nice.

Anyway, suddenly we found ourselves on the Honduran mainland in a place called San Pedro Sula. Like what? Where are we? Assuming the worst, I began thinking "Oh this is great, here’s where we get taken hostage" (so American, I know). "The people expecting us don’t know we are now here (where?) – better yet, why are we here?" When we landed on the mainland (Roatan is about 150 miles off the coast of Honduras), we refueled the plane and some people got off. That latter part I didn’t get – why were people on a flight destined for Roatan getting off here? I started looking through our itinerary to make sure we didn’t miss a detail – like if this was a planned stop (it wasn’t). Anyway, the only updates we got were concerning cell phone usage (don’t use them). It was a bit frustrating to say the least. Like, forget the cell phones – how about an update on WHY we are here! Oh and in English would be good too (I was really wishing I remembered more of my Spanish from when I lived in Spain – duh). Anyway, I tried to amuse myself by reading some tattered magazine on off-roading with Jeeps that I found in the seat pocket until finally it seemed we were taking off again. We appeared to be actually destined for Roatan – where we eventually did arrive.

When we were in the customs line some random woman explained our detour to San Pedro Sula. Apparently an Italian flight inbound to Roatan hit the runway so hard that they damaged it. They had to close the airport down while they "fixed it" – whatever that means. We hit the runway pretty hard too, so I can only imagine what the other plane did. TACA isn’t the smoothest flying of carriers. In my experience on 2 flights, they handled the planes rough (example – when landing in Houston the pilot was rolling an Airbus from side to side to spill off speed on the approach. We hit the ground like a brick and the reversers were screaming for awhile). I found the flying to be rather uncomfortable compared to flying on US carriers. Anyway, neither here nor there, they landed the plane with the wheels aiming down and both wings still on, so I can’t complain I guess.

The scene at the baggage claim was a bit chaotic, not surprisingly. Stuff was coming out sporadically on the belt (our stuff was last, and I mean last). They scan incoming baggage – probably looking for suitcases full of electronics and other commodities for resale. They have a pretty stiff tax – about 18%. So they like to know what’s coming in to take it away I guess. But this was a small space and stuff was blowing out through the belt and piling up. People were climbing over bags, other people, dragging, pulling – I think you probably could have gotten away with throwing a few elbows if you needed to. It was tempting. We finally got our bags and loaded them into the van for the Bay Island Beach Resort (BIBR).

Driving on the roads was kind of like "don’t look" – as the van is cruising along narrow windy roads spotted with people walking or riding bicycles along the shoulder. I was amazed we didn’t clip anybody. It was tight on some passes. We arrived at the BIBR and were promptly greeted by the group. We arrived late – about 8:30 – 9 pm but were still in time to catch dinner and settle in. We were tired and hungry so we ate and crashed. The next day would be a full day and we wanted to be ready to go.

The BIBR is like a resort and a bed and breakfast all at the same time. The place is laid back with few distractions. The trip was all-inclusive with regard to food and charters, so 3 meals were served each day and the staff could make any adjustments to the menu should you have some food preference or need. The only extras were Sodasorb, special fills and tips. There are no phones or TVs in the rooms and most of the activity seems to take place either in the dive shop or the dining area. NAUI Tec has a role here, which basically amounts to an investment in the diving aspect to build up infrastructure and operations. What this allows is for NAUI Tec to come in and "take over" the diving operations during these types of trips, and this has facilitated training, record-setting dive work ups, research and development among countless other activities over the years, all with a great safety record done according to NAUI’s "protocols" if you will. It’s actually a great set up and a great place to come for any kind of training (or diving).

Our room was "Casablanca" – a room for two at the top of the resort. It had a fantastic view overlooking the rest of the resort and out towards the ocean. The only downside was that was a real haul to move gear back and forth (the rebreathers slept in the room with us).

The next morning was an early start – wake up at 5:30 am and in the dive shop ready to go at 6 am. The morning activities were planned for a complete tear down of the rebreather – clean, inspect, re-assemble (what would be otherwise yearly maintenance or a QC check of the rig after travel such as this). After breakfast at 7 am we were planning to go into a full pre-dive lecture, which was going to take 3-4 hours. It was an intensive morning for sure.

We went through everything, cleaning all the connections, checking the wiring harness, measuring the voltage on the sensors, assembly of the counterlungs, the hoses, the mouthpiece, checking the mushroom valves and ensuring the appropriate directional flow of gas. We packed scrubbers, assembled the units. We went through the calibration steps and of course fixed any problems encountered along the way. Before anyone thinks these units were broken from that comment, I would like to point out that all of these rigs used in the class were either purchased used (and were being used for the first time since the purchase) or were various personal rigs (some of which were better cared for than others).

The unit I was using had a prototype plastic plate on it, which meant I was going to have to wear a weight belt, but otherwise my rig was in good shape. Short of some cleaning and lubing, the rig performed flawlessly all week. Dave was using one of Ron’s rigs and it was in great shape also. Other people who had bought used rigs did have a few issues – sensors, secondaries – hard to say what the deal was there, but all the rigs that were "in use" prior to the trip worked great. I should also mention there were about 25 PRISMs (and one Ouroboros) rebreathers in Roatan that week. It was the most they’ve ever had I am told.

Our dive plans were a bit uncertain for the afternoon. The BIBR is actually on the north side of the island – opposite side from where most of the more traditional resorts are. This of course is the side with better wall diving, but also more turbulent weather due to the exposure. A front was coming through that night and as a result, the water was quite rough. The others went to the opposite side of the island to dive while we remained inside the reef barrier on the key for our first open water experience. Ideally we would have done this off the dock, but the rollers were wiping out the visibility.

We motored a short distance and Ron had the boat set us in about 10-15’ of water. There was a little chop, nothing too bad, and a little current, but it was otherwise "confined" water. We got suited up. Of course when you’re used to diving open circuit, figuring out what to do with all this stuff being lowered over your head is a bit strange. The over the shoulder counterlungs are awkward at first, but they are a preferable configuration for rebreather diving. Basically – everything is out front. You can see it; you can access it and if water gets in there, it can be blown clear. The closer the counterlungs are to your lungs, the easier the breathing. I suited up, kept the ppO2 at 1 and jumped in. The rebreathers were "on" – meaning they were functioning with the electronics on, but that would be rare throughout the week. The default setpoint is 0.7 until you break 18 feet, at which point it kicks over to your chosen set point (1.2 or 1.3 usually). We puttered around on the surface until everyone was in and then descended to the bottom.

Here’s where things get weird for the first time on a rebreather. As you descend, the ppO2 starts going up and the loop volume goes down – which means you go to breath and no gas comes your way until you actuate the automatic diluent addition valve (or depress it). It’s awkward until you get the loop volume up where you want it – which usually happens once you "set your depth." See-saw profiles on rebreathers are not a good practice – lots of wasted gas. Anyway, there’s practically no breathing resistance on the rig, which is unlike breathing from a second stage regulator with a cracking pressure to draw in a breath. The buoyancy and trim is different, mostly because you need weight in the shoulders to pull your head down and of course since it’s a closed circuit, controlling the loop volume is key to controlling your buoyancy (and vice versa).

After about 30 minutes of feeling like a "CF" we began to settle in. I needed some additional weight. My mask however was leaking like a sieve and no matter what; I couldn’t get it tight enough to stop the leak. The mask, it seemed, was so molded to my face with a second stage in my mouth that with the DSV and slightly different position with the hoses, the shape of my face was different enough to cause leaks. It drove me absolutely crazy, and made things much harder all around since I was clearing my mask a lot. Fortunately, I had brought a brand new spare mask and after a few more futile attempts to get the other mask to stop leaking, I swapped it over – problem solved.

Once we were all on the bottom we started drills. Bail out, changing ppO2 up or down, mask remove and replace. We did this for about an hour. Even in warm water I was starting to get cold after kneeling in sand for 70 minutes so eventually we starting swimming and slowly I started to feel like a diver again. It was still awkward, but we were learning quickly. Over all we were pleased.

After the dive we broke down the rigs and cleaned everything. The counterlungs, hoses and mouthpiece was washed in a diluted Betadine solution and then thoroughly rinsed. The scrubber was removed (between every dive actually) and placed in a water tight dry bag. We were running about 6-7 hrs on the scrubbers in warm water. After rinsing the rest of our gear off we cleaned up ourselves, ate and then passed out. It was 8 pm.

The following morning we were at it again – this time we were planning to do 2 dives. On almost all the lectures/dives we were working with Ron and Tim O’Leary, Director of NAUI Tec Ops. We were also assisted by divemaster Dave Weber, who was also a good resource to everyone. So we were very fortunate to have great instructors teaching and critiquing us all week.

All the dives at this point we to be done flying the rigs manually. We were staying in fairly shallow water at this point still, 40-60 feet. For bailout gas we were carrying aluminum 80 full of air. The PRISM has no other "on board" bailout systems the way Ron configures them. Some people use the AIR-2 inflator/octo think that comes with the rig as a standard item, but I think they are crap in this application, so they are headed to eBay when ours arrive. Other than bailing out closed circuit, semi-closed or breathing OC off the loop, if you have to get off, it’s off to the open circuit bail out bottle. Some people rig a second stage off the diluent bottle and route this like a back up regulator under the chin. It’s probably fine for shallow no deco diving, but useless when deep. There’s also too high a risk of a freeflow that might require shutting the bottle down (or loosing a significant gas supply), which of course would eliminate your diluent. The DSV has no demand valve second stage regulator thing built in. I like the PRISM for its simplicity in this regard. The choices are simple. If you can’t solve the problem on the loop, you’re off the whole thing.

Anyway, our first dive on day 2 was far from "smooth" – so the plans for the second dive were the solution for the first dive – swimming in circles for 60 minutes non stop. We were taken to the "classroom" – a sandy bottom near a shallow reef that had a race course loop feature to the sand line. Basically for 60 minutes we were going to do nothing but swim, fly manually, work on trim and communication with our dive partner. We accomplished these objectives and everyone was pleased with the dive. I think everyone needed that time to just work out the kinks. With a solid day of diving behind us, things were beginning to settle out. The following morning we were going to dive a wreck, and then a reef or something – whatever – we were gonna see RUST!

The dive was to a wreck called "El Aguila" or "The Eagle" – a 230 foot long concrete freighter scuttled in 1997 to form an artificial reef. It sank off Utila Keys, was salvaged and subsequently prepared for intentional sinking. The wreck lies in about 110 feet of water. It’s rolled over on its starboard side with an intact stern area, flattened hull plates midship and some twisted structure in the bow. I believe it was fairly intact initially, but was broken up by Hurricane Mitch. The wreck is pretty and made for a very nice interlude. We spent a short time on the wreck and then swam over to the reef where we spent like, 2 hours. To be honest, it didn’t matter at that point because the only thing I was looking at was the secondary. During the wreck part of the dive we got to turn the rigs on, but after that it was all manual, which meant I was dialed into the secondary flying manually. It was a good dive and everyone’s confidence was growing.

During the surface intervals we refilled tanks since at the end of the dive we did a bunch of drills (flushing the loop, etc.) that wasted a lot of gas. We removed the scrubber between dives and placed it in the dry bag. With the scrubber in the bucket there is heat and moisture retained, which results in degradation of the sorb. By removing it between dives, this reaction is slowed or stopped. I am not sure I’d do this routinely for short dives with a short surface interval, but it makes a lot of sense if you have a few hours between lengthy dives, especially in warm weather or when diving in cold water.

We had lunch, made a few tweaks to adjust weight and straps on the harnesses and got ready to go back out. On this afternoon dive (Tuesday) we were doing "stress drills" – basically everything we did before, but not on our knees anymore. Now, we would be neutrally buoyant or swimming when Ron came along and signaled to perform a certain skill. We were going to get a treat at the end of the drills though – Tim was going to lead us through "Spooky Channel" – which is a must-do dive in Roatan.

Spooky Channel is a narrow channel ranging from 40-90 feet in depth. It’s like a chute or tunnel with high reaching walls on either side. Along these nooks and crannies there are cave systems. Of course we were only allowed to look, but this was definitely a place to spend a few dives. The one catch here was the current becomes very strong as it is tidal dependent. Basically, you don’t want to be going the wrong way in this channel. At certain points, there’s rope laid along the bottom to pull yourself along since swimming isn’t really possible. No one really mentioned the current, so when we entered the channel and suddenly it hit us it was a bit of a surprise – breathing goes up, so it required careful monitoring of our ppO2. The PRISM just kept right up with it though, it delivered the gas with very little breathing resistance, even when huffing and puffing a bit. We got along the walls and did some pull and glide in a few areas, then ducked down to the bottom and picked up the rope for the rest of the way. The nice thing about the Spooky Channel dive is when you come up, you’re essentially in front of BIBR, so the boat ride back was like a minute long.

We were beginning to find our pace with the break-down and pre-dive procedures, so the morning prep work and evening break down work was going easier and faster. Still, the days were long and we were pretty much wiped out by the end of dinner. Unfortunately more bad weather was on the way and it poured with heavy northeasterly wind blowing through all night long. The conditions on the North side of the island were surprisingly dynamic. There was current, and the seas weren’t exactly flat – granted it wasn’t northeast diving conditions, but I expected something along the lines of Grand Cayman (no current, no waves) so I was surprised to see it was not quite so tranquil. The visibility was down a bit from recent storms – probably on the order of 50-70 feet, which was quite good but not the best it gets for sure.

Anyway, the following morning it was blowing and raining still, but we were diving. Another wreck dive was on the schedule. Tim was leading us to a wreck called the Odyssey – a 300 foot long freighter sunk in 2002 as an artificial reef. It had an unfortunate fire break out during a refit, which made the vessel a total loss. It was prepared for sinking and scuttled in 120 feet of water.

The ride out was rough – seas were running a solid, hard 4-6’ and building. It was kind of like home, but with better visibility. We got out to the wreck and picked up a mooring, not that you wanted to be anywhere near this line or boat, but since it was too rough to get picked up after drifting over to the reef, we needed to go up and down this line. Dave and I were ready first and we hit the water fast, dropping down out of the seas to wait for the group. The rest of the group arrived and we toured the wreck – we kept our depth to about 90-100 feet, so we weren’t allowed to go play in the hull plates down in the sand.

The wreck sank with a starboard list – similar to the El Aguila in that the bow section was intact, midship hull plates were flattened out and the stern was intact. It was a breathtaking sight to see the stern – with its large multilevel bridge, all intact (no bridge equipment though…). We swam through a few fairly open parts and out and around the wreckage. I can see we are going to have to be more careful inside of wrecks with these rigs. Just swimming down a fairly open passageway along the exterior deck I could feel the hoses brushing against stuff. Hmm…

It was a trick getting back on the boat since it was really rough when we surfaced and fins needed to come off to get up the ladder, but the crew was very helpful in this process so with a little planning and timing it was no big deal. We were however done for the day. It was too rough to be out there, or go back. In fact, a day or two prior, some other dive boat from a different resort sank while everyone was in the water. We made sure we looked below the hatches on this boat a few times.

With the diving done for the day, we had a leisurely lunch, broke down the rigs and Tim gave a detailed lecture on RGBM. After we finished up with classroom work we headed into the West End to tour the island a little bit and see what Roatan was like from land.

The West End is basically a little shanty town at the end of the island. It’s got some dive resorts, bars, restaurants and stores, but reminded me of a carnival – like the next day it could disappear and you’d never know it was there. There is basically one long dirt road with people and cars moving up and down it. There’s a small beach and cove with a nice view out to the ocean. It is also here where the deep diving submersible is located. By day the area is fairly benign, but the West End isn’t a place I’d want to be at night without a group of people with me.

We picked up a few knick-knacks and tee shirts for souvenirs and headed back to the resort for dinner. Each night there was something different – some meals I enjoyed more than others, but over all the staff was very accommodating and eager to please.

The following morning it was still too rough to dive on the North side, so it was decided we’d load up the vans and drive over to Mary’s Place, which is supposed to be the pinnacle "pretty dive" in the Caribbean. The crew had brought the boats around so we loaded up there and headed out from the lee side of the island. Conditions were slightly choppy here too, but nothing bad. When we arrived at the Mary’s Place dive site – at least I think that’s what it was called – there were a few other boats there already and the dive team leaders on each boat decided we would skip diving that site to minimize impact and go straight to the reef. I guess it had to be closed down for a while because reef bashers destroyed it, so now its open again but fragile. So, we almost did the prettiest dive in the Caribbean, I guess. We hit the reef and planned for a fairly lengthy dive – 2 hrs ideally. This was a pleasure dive so we were able to use the rigs in full electronic mode, which was nice (not that the secondary was far from my view at any given moment).

We dived the reef for about 90-100 minutes before calling it a dive. There’s only so much reef you can take in all at once. The highlight of the dive was seeing a school of fish envelop Dave – definitely something that doesn’t happen too often on open circuit. All in all I really enjoyed that dive. We were getting comfortable with the rigs and enjoying the quiet. If there was one thing I noticed, it was how quiet it was until there was noise – then it was really loud. I could hear the air shifting in my wings, etc. It was pretty cool. I found that when flying manually it takes a few minutes to find your rhythm and settle in, so the longer dives are good in this way. I am sure that with practice it all comes easier and easier.

With that dive done we headed back over to BIBR and contemplated another dive. We thought about swimming to the entrance of Spooky Channel, but we were advised against it because of the sea conditions. We thought about heading back over to the other side, but it just started getting too late by the time gear got back over to BIBR. So, we called it an afternoon and spent some time just lounging around. Since Dave and I were flying out on a 10 am flight on Saturday, we really needed to wrap it up by Friday morning diving-wise. We decided that weather permitting we’d try to make an early AM shore dive to the entrance of Spooky Channel and then we could spend the rest of the day cleaning up and packing up gear.

Thursday evening we were treated to a pig roast dinner and evening of live music. The band was a local group, lead by an American born, Julliard trained musician. They played local, cultural Honduran/ Nicaraguan music, which I really enjoyed. The pig roast part I could have skipped. Anyway, in between sets of music we did some crab racing – hermit crabs that are placed in a center circle and "race" to the edge of an outer circle. Everyone threw in a buck and the winner got the pot of cash – probably $30-40 bucks. Everyone was whooping it up; clearly some people were not going to be diving that morning, but it was a fun night. We called it quits after the crab race since we really did want to dive again the next morning.

While I was momentarily tempted to sleep in that morning, we decided to get up and get that last dive in before breaking down the rigs for the trip home. We assembled everything without issue, though I had to replace a mushroom valve that curled up when drying. Other than that we were good to go. Dave and I suited up at the dock and followed the "trail" of buoys out to the entrance of Spooky channel. The first part of the dive is very shallow and you have to be watchful for boats coming through, which there aren’t many aside from the resort boats, but still you need to watch out. In a few places you’re moving through 3-4 feet of water to get out to the channel.

When we got the top of the entrance of Spooky the current was ripping – going out to sea. I really wished it was going the other way since then I wouldn’t have minded clawing into it and riding it back. But it wasn’t going that way and it wasn’t going to be real smart of us to keep drifting with it, so we decided to turn around. It resulted in a slightly shorter dive than we planned, but we didn’t want to get out there and find we couldn’t get back. As it was, we still needed to pull ourselves back on the rope and we weren’t even really "out there" just yet. Nevertheless it was a good dive, and another dive on the rig. We had prepped the rigs unsupervised and had made a successful dive just the two of us. So it was nice to finish on that note, on top of what was already a great week of learning and diving.

We finished up and started the "fun" of cleaning, drying and packing. Of course, the weather was beautiful on that Friday so it would have been a perfect day to head out on the boat. But, we would be cutting it too close with our SI before flying, so we were done.

With all our toys packed up and ready to go home we were free to enjoy the evening. The group was headed back into the West End for dinner at a restaurant called the Argentinean. I was skeptical about how good it would be, considering, but I must say it was some of the best steak I have ever eaten – anywhere. The filet minion was cooked perfectly and was the biggest piece I have ever seen served up at once. The appetizers, soups, salad and sides were also very good. The chocolate cake was pretty decadent, and the coffee was awesome – and all this for only $30 US per person. Honduras is on the "lempira" but prefers US dollars – yeah, like no kidding – and several thousand "lemps" is worth a dollar or something like that. Anyway, some of us were going through serious coffee withdrawal that week – and only for the reason that the coffee at the resort was a little sketchy to put it mildly. I think one batch got made on Saturday when we arrived and it was recycled and reheated or re-something over the course of the week. It developed a funky taste that I know I wanted nothing to do with. But this cup of coffee at the restaurant just hit the spot.

We wandered down to a bar at the other end of the road to cap off the night. The dirt road was narrow so you had to be mindful of cars and mopeds. We watched one car, obviously driven by someone with a few in him, hit 3 parked cars in a row – and just keep going. Heh, you gotta love it. Anyway, there were little arts and crafts kinds of vendors along the road, including one doing some pretty cool stuff with spray paint. We stopped off in this bar where the band we had seen the night before was supposed to be playing and sat down.

You can always tell when a trip is ending because you start thinking about home and regular life again. There was a TV in the bar playing a newscast of what else – more bad news (is there ever any good news?). Some young woman with a promising life ahead of her had been abducted in Florida and a desperate search was on. I think we all know how that one is going to turn out. Cynical I know, but let’s face it – that’s the sad reality. Of course, no one could avoid thinking about the massive Nor’easter headed to our home destinations, which might result in our being stranded along some middle leg of the trip – not in Roatan and not home, so no where we wanted to be. I had done a little weather forecasting of my own amidst the hysteria and it looked possible that we’d sneak in before the storm hit, and of course being from New England, you have to know that almost all storms are blown way out of proportion by the news networks. So before buying batteries, bottled water and white bread – I usually take a look at the map myself. It looked reasonable for getting in provided the airlines didn’t balk and cancel flights prematurely, but you still go through the "what-ifs" in terms of being stuck in some airport for a few days… my recent experience spending a cold night at Chicago O’Hare being a little too fresh in my memory.

Everyone was pretty tired so after about 20 minutes of sitting, we decided to call it a night and head back. The following morning those of us who had an early flight headed over to the airport. Our timing was actually very good because we were just ahead of the crush of people also returning that day. Since our bags had to be hand searched, I knew dealing with the rebreathers was going to take a few extra minutes, especially since my Spanish has become a lot worse than I thought. Surprisingly, we had not one iota of a problem carrying the heads on. I mean, you’d think the bomb squad would be all over these things when they went through the scanner, especially considering past times when I have been through security before and our video camera housing (which looks like a…. video camera housing) had to be wiped down with "bomb wipes" – but no, not so much as a blink of an eye when the heads came through at any time on the trip. Whatever, I guess.

When we arrived in Houston things went smoothly and we were re-checked in for our final leg in no time at all. We had a lengthy lay over so we enjoyed a long lunch chatting with some new friends we made on the trip. Our flight was on so we were headed to Boston – at least I knew we’d take off headed for Boston. Indeed, we landed at a little before 11 pm – just a few hours before the snow began to fall. Of course, it was no "storm of the century" – though it was windy and snowy with about 18" falling in the Boston area that Sunday.

All in all we returned most pleased with our experience on this trip. We had the opportunity to meet some really great people and learn a tremendous amount from a large number of experienced divers/instructors. We had a few curve balls thrown out at us, but it made for one interesting experience for sure. NAUI has a great thing going with the set up in Roatan and it’s a great place to go for training for this reason – the logistical support is there, the diving is good and it really facilitates a team approach to diving, if that’s what you’re into. The PRISM, when we get it, will be a good rig for us – simple, well designed and capable.

But don’t look for any of our open circuit gear on eBay just yet… I don’t part with my toys well, even if I am not using them much anymore. Thanks to all who made this a great trip!