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| Vol. 4, Issue 5 May 2012 |
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Journeys |
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Journeys |
What Lies Beneath
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| India’s nascent diving industry has what it needs to make it world-class. Everything is also in place for it to destroy the environment. |
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Published : 1 October 2010 |
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ADAM JADHAV FOR THE CARAVAN |
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| Marine life in the
Andamans is less exposed to humans, and therefore less fearful.
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E'RE SITTING IN A FLAT, brown fishing
skiff, rocking in the mild Bay of Bengal
swell with no other boats to be seen.
And, for that matter, no land either. |
Pondicherry, that whitewashed bastion
of French colonialism in India, lies some 12 kilometres
away, beyond the horizon. Today there are no clouds or
birds. Not even a breeze. Were it not for the heat, this could
even be peaceful.
Even in February, the south Indian sun dries lips and
parches throats. Our drinking water is painfully, revoltingly
hot.
The motor is off. We drift with the current. Everything is
quiet save the lapping of waves against our hull.
This borders on desolation. It feels a bit like the end of
the earth.
I briefly think this must be what it’s like to be stranded
after a plane crash, adrift on the ocean. A sort of Old Man
and the Sea without the rotting fish carcass and circling
sharks.
But no one in this little boat is really interested in aesthetics
at the moment. All attention is focused on a small electronic box, a Garmin fishfinder, that’s sitting atop some
compressed air tanks; it’s attached to a sounder on our stern
which is scouring the ocean floor about 25 metres below us
for signs of life.
| JONATHAN KINGSTON / AURORA / GETTY IMAGES |
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A lone skin diver plies the waters of the Andaman
Sea. |
And at the moment, the sounder sees none.
This excursion off of Pondicherry is the frontline of India’s
fledgling dive industry, uncertain and out of place in a
country where the sea is largely the domain of salty fishermen
and the natural environment takes a backseat to the
toils of daily life. In fact, scuba diving is so new here, it can
barely even be called an industry.
The coastal waters belong almost exclusively to fishermen
and the military. India’s dive centres are mostly stationed
on the once-hippie laden beaches of Goa; the highclass,
high-cost resorts of Lakshadweep and the remote,
idyllic Andaman islands.
But even a few dives in the Andamans showcase enough
marine life—schools of bannerfish, humphead parrotfish,
Napoleon wrasses the size of scooters, turtles and rays and
sharks—to envision India’s future.
| ADAM JADHAV FOR THE CARAVAN |
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Olivier Baudouin leads a dive near the Havelock
Islands. |
That’s why I’m tagging along with Temple Adventures, a new outfit in Pondicherry that has permission to explore
potential dive sites along the southeast Indian coast.
Our captain, JK Iyappan, is a local fisherman and though
he speaks little English, he seems almost bemused with his
three passengers, all scuba divers in a country that barely
knows what scuba diving is.
At one point, I ask Iyappan what he thinks of us, huddled
over the fish sounder, sweating profusely in the midday
heat. The translation is rough: he says he’s happy for a day’s
wages and is pretty keen on our sonar.
But I get the distinct impression that he finds us a bit silly
as we hope to look at fish, rather than catch them.
| REINHARD DIRSCHERL / VISUALS UNLIMITED / CORBIS |
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Lionfish or Turkeyfish (Pterois volitans), Indian
Ocean, Andaman Sea. |
We continue to stare at the small computer screen hoping for the shapes of schooling fish or uneven bottom—signs of
reef or rock or debris.
Iyappan simply stands at the bridge in his brimmed hat
and lungi and stares out into the sky. He idly tosses an empty
chip bag and later a Sprite bottle into the sea.
Almost no one has dived these waters before, at least not
recreationally, says David Hearn, Temple Adventures divemaster.
He has big dreams for a dive and surf shop and
a partnership with local government in everything from
tourism to marine conservation.
“But look, we’ve really only been here since this winter.
And most people here have no clue what scuba diving is,”
Hearn says. “At first, no one knew what we were doing. We got lots of stares. Now everybody knows who we are, the
Coast Guard, the fishermen, when they pass us on the water—‘
Oh, that’s Dave and his dive buddies’—because nobody
else is doing this.”
Hell, not long ago, neither was I.
| I |
T WAS LAST DECEMBER when I stepped from the ferry,
newly docked at Havelock Island, the popular, if still
off-the-radar, tourist destination in India’s paradisical
island territory, the Andaman and Nicobar Islands. |
After the dirty and dusty warrens of Delhi—and a particular
budget guest house in Paharganj—the lush greenery of
Havelock, the thick jungle that abuts road and beach, the
bright fields of rice and grain seem like another world.
For years, the islands have ranked high on my list of ‘must-visit’
locales, for their remoteness, for their vistas, for their
ability to stop time. But I know nothing of their growing
reputation as the epicentre of India’s dive culture.
I spend a few nights in a luxurious jungle resort, just off a
spit of pure white sand known as Radhanagar Beach, or its
rather bland alternative, Beach No. 7. I have no intentions,
no plans; no schemes other than turning off and disconnecting.
Drinks and meals turn strangers into new friends. In conversation
after conversation, I hear of Havelock’s pristine
undersea life that has been spared the pressures of tourism
that have mangled and overdeveloped other dive spots the
world over.
Consider the scene in Mexico, say some scuba divers,
where boats sometimes run non-stop, carrying 30 or 40 or
60 divers at a time. Or look at Thailand, where sometimes
beaches are fronted by nothing but bars and hotels and dive
centres, and dive waters are filled morning and afternoon
with dozens of backpackers learning how to dive. Guidebooks
tout nearly 200 dive centres in Phuket, Siam’s scuba
mecca.
Though both destinations still offer some world-class
diving, they’re more than overcrowded compared to India’s
Andamans.
“This is Phuket or Cozumel 20 years ago or more,” says
Bruce Farkas, who heads the adventure tourism wing of the
Barefoot Group, which also runs a luxury hotel and diving
centre. “Really, this is what Phuket was like before it became
Phuket.”
On a lark, I sign up for a one-day short course in diving;
nothing more than a teaser. I figure it’ll make for a good
story for friends back home. To be honest, I can’t remember
the last time I even swam in the ocean. And when I head
out, I’m sharing a boat with three young Indian men from Bangalore, who say much the same.
This, apparently, is a common mindset for first-time divers,
particularly in a country like India. Here, even people
who live on water often don’t even know how to swim. The
ocean is for catching food or watching the waves.
Scuba diving, it seems, is simply something to try once, to
notch the belt, so you can say you did it.
Indeed, when we come up from our ‘discover’ dive, my
new buddies are done; they’re eyeing our boat’s canister of
chai and a stretch of beach that eventually serves as a gully
cricket pitch.
I, on the other hand, immediately want to gear up for
another dive. I’m giddy at the combination of methodical
movements and focused breathing—it’s almost meditative,
like Pranayama. I’m concentrating on all my movements,
carefully using muscles and contorting my body to swim
close to reefs that contain entire ecosystems.
And at the same time, I feel like an explorer, an adventurer
in a world that many people never experience.
At one point during my second dive, we spot a cluster of
humphead parrotfish—each a metre long—in the murky
water. I blurt out obscenities, which are lost in a stream of
bubbles.
We count at least seven, maybe more. I hold my breath
briefly to listen to them munch on the coral; they’re oblivious
to my intense shock.
After we surface, my dive instructor lets on that she has
never seen so many at once, anywhere in the world.
On the boat ride back to shore, I’m already mentally
checking my bank account balance and asking myself if I
can afford this new, expensive hobby. I feel the pangs of addiction,
of obsession.
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Readers' Comments |
Total Comments
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Satish
6 February 2011
11:12 PM
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Adam, This is a well written article and has focus on important aspects of environment and issues that must be considered. 'Development at the cost of environment' is an old saying and we must transition towards 'sustainable development' both through our policies and action strategies. In a context such as this conservation must be considered with a pragamatic vision and at least expense to the environmet. The artcle provides a a fresh perspective of an aspring diver who has been initiated recently. Great job. Keep up the good work.
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Nishant
6 October 2010
05:51 PM
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Hi Adam,
A lovely article from a definitely experienced diver. I recently went on my first visit to Goa and instantly fell in love with diving so started looking out for doing some courses. Thats how I stumbled across this blog today. Simply awesome and my love for diving became even more.
Thanks for the motivational blog (though I am sure that was not the motto of writing it)!
Rgds,
Nishant
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