Taking
a
dive...and
loving
it
by
Karen
Hayes
(originally
published
in
ARKANSAS
TIMES,
November
8,
1996)
Bobby
J.
Hayes
is
not
a
morning
person.
A
club
musician
for
all
of
his
(so-called)
adult
life,
my
husband
treats
the
noon
news
as
his
own
personal
"Good
Morning
America."
That's
when
he
starts
to
wake
up,
work
the
crossword,
drink
tea
and
consider
breakfast.
It
is
a
time-honored,
if
not
necessarily
wife-honored,
routine.
Only
one
event
turns
it
completely
and
amazingly
around:
Blackbeard.
On
a
Blackbeard
cruise,
it
is
typical
to
see
Bob
Hayes
hit
the
deck
before
sunrise,
drink
coffee,
eat
pancakes,
assemble
and
don
somewhat
complex
gear
and
jump
into
the
Caribbean
Sea
before
"Good
Morning
America"
is
more
than
half
over.
To
say
the
least,
it's
out
of
character.
We
were
certified
as
scuba
divers
by
The
Dive
Shop
in
North
Little
Rock
three
years
ago.
Travel,
both
business
and
pleasure,
has
always
been
a
big
part
of
our
lives
together.
Our
pleasure
trips
were
the
usual
mix
of
sightseeing,
shopping,
general
goofing
off
and
eating
our
weight
daily
in
restaurant
food.
Not
any
more.
Now,
we
dive.
Blackbeard's
three
sailing
boats
On
the
last
Saturday
in
September,
we
departed
Miami
on
Blackbeard's
65-foot
sailing
ship,
The
Sea
Explorer,
for
a
week
of
diving
in
the
Bahamas.
We
traveled
with
23
other
folks
from
Little
Rock,
Memphis,
and
points
close
to
home.
We
set
sail
toward
Bimini
with
a
crew
of
six:
captain,
first
mate,
engineer,
dive
master,
cook
and
deck
hand.
We
were
about
to
get
to
know
all
of
the
people
on
this
boat
a
lot
better.
Blackbeard's
is
best
described
as
camping
on
water.
You
sleep
in
a
bunk.
You
have
roommates.
Sometimes
they
snore
(sorry,
April
and
Michael).
You
share
a
head
(that's
boat
talk
for
bathroom)
and
sink
with
a
half-dozen
other
people.
There's
a
ton
of
salt
water--about
2.3
million
cubic
miles--so
you
can
shower
all
you
want,
but
you
do
share
the
one
shower
on
board
with
everybody
else,
and
you're
asked
to
limit
the
fresh-water
portion
of
your
shower
to
30
seconds
a
day.
You
won't
need
many
clothes--pack
swimsuits,
T-shirts,
shorts,
some
nylon
warm-ups
and
you're
done.
Meals
are
served
buffet-style
next
to
the
galley.
You
can
grab
a
spot
at
the
picnic-size
table
below
or
head
up
on
deck
and
hold
your
plate
in
your
lap.
This
is
not
a
cruise
ship.
There
will
not
be
a
mint
on
your
pillow
when
you
turn
at
night.
Karen
ready
for
a
giant
stride
The
good
news:
you
dive
a
lot.
You
will
see
spectacular
fish
and
coral,
guaranteed.
With
luck,
you'll
see
lobster,
crab,
moray
eels,
rays,
turtles
and
sharks.
If
you
want,
you
can
dive
a
little,
laze
around
a
little,
eat
lunch,
dive
again,
and
then
make
an
early
start
on
the
rum
punch.
You
can
help
the
crew
sail,
lie
motionless
in
the
sun
or
shade,
fish,
read
or
watch
for
flying
fish
and
dolphins.
Bob
played
a
little
guitar--the
first
mate
had
one,
and
the
deckhand
was
trying
to
learn.
You
might
stop
for
some
snorkeling,
shell
collecting
or
a
bonfire
on
the
beach
one
night.
On
a
trip
last
year,
we
were
on
our
way
to
to
our
first
dive
site
of
the
day
when
our
boat
was
swarmed
by
50
or
more
dolphins
during
breakfast.
A
cry
of
"stop
the
boat!"
went
up,
and
we
dropped
our
coffee
cups
and
grabbed
snorkel
gear
to
hop
in
the
water
with
the
beautiful
wild
things.
A
lot
closer
than
I
thought,
it
looked
smaller
in
the
viewfinder!
On
this
trip,
the
outstanding
wildlife
experience
for
us
was
a
shark
dive
at
Bull
Run.
As
we
descended
to
the
sandy
arena
where
the
feeding
would
take
place,
we
could
see
nurse
(non-man-eating,
pettable)
sharks
and
reef
(possibly
man-and-woman-eating)
sharks
cruising
the
area.
When
the
food,
a
"sharksicle"
made
of
hunks
of
frozen
fish
threaded
on
a
line,
was
lowered
into
the
water,
the
crowd
went
wild.
Seeing
an
eight-foot
reef
shark
clamp
down
and
thrash
wildly
to
tear
a
bite
from
the
line
was
enough
to
reinstate
the
word
"awesome"
to
the
adult
vocabulary.
When
the
same
shark
passed
an
arm's-length
above
my
head
a
few
minutes
later,
I
was
happy
to
see
his
complete
disinterest
in
me.
The
other
feeding
frenzy
on
the
trip
was
a
human
one.
Diving
three
or
four
times
a
day
burns
a
lot
of
fuel.
I
didn't
miss
a
meal
or
a
snack,
and
certainly
not
a
dessert.
Bob
may
have
missed
a
snack,
but
if
he
did,
he
ate
two
desserts.
The
food
was
plentiful
and
various,
and
if
by
some
miracle
you
ended
up
hungry
and
it
wasn't
time
for
a
meal
or
a
snack, there
was
a
hammock
of
fruit
hanging
over
the
table,
or
you
could
make
a
peanut
butter
and
jelly
sandwich.
Juices,
milk,
and
sodas
were
always
available.
There
was
a
beer
tap
on
deck,
and
a
liquor
cabinet
stocked
with
rum,
vodka
and
wine
below.
If
you
wanted
something
else,
you
were
welcome
to
bring
a
bottle.
Rum
punch
appeared
in
a
large
thermos
dispenser
nightly,
labeled
initially
as
"Rum
Punch,"
then
as
"El
Diablo,"
and
by
the
final
night,
"Don't
Ask,
Just
Drink."
So
we
did.
After
an
active
day,
and
occasionally
a
night
dive,
it
didn't
take
much
to
put
us
to
bed
and
asleep
by
10
or
11,
but
some
stayed
up
late
to
talk
or
just
take
in
the
moon
and
stars.
Bob
on
make-shift
hammock
Spending
seven
days
and
six
nights
in
close
quarters
with
30
other
people
gives
you
and
instant
perspective
on
what
it
takes
to
get
along
in
the
world.
It
seemed
that
almost
everyone
realized
immediately
that
good
humor
and
respect
for
one
another
were
essential.
If
you
felt
you
needed
more
privacy,
there
was
a
very
large
ocean
conveniently
located
below.
Karen
on
the
deck
of
"Sea
Explorer"
We
came
home
from
our
week
on
The
Sea
Explorer
without
some
of
the
usual
vacation
baggage:
no
10
extra
pounds,
no
critically
injured
pocketbook
and
no
need
to
take
a
vacation
to
recover
from
our
vacation.
The
first
night
back,
our
own
bed--and
our
own
hot
shower--felt
good,
but
when
I
woke
in
the
middle
of
the
night
and
rose
from
bed,
the
room
swung
wildly
as
I
tried
to
negotiate
dry
land
with
sea
legs.
My
sea
legs
were
gone
in
a
day
or
two,
but
I
have
another
souvenir
that
I
hope
to
keep
until
I
go
diving
again:
a
clear
blue
spot
in
my
mind
where
I
wait
placidly
for
something
to
swim
by.
Bob,
Karen,
and
friend
in
Bimini
Click
here
for
Blackbeard's
site