Flashback to Halloween 2003 in Islamorada. There?s Papa, ChrisM and me at the
dock, blown out for the day, watching our long-weekend trip race toward a close like
a lost hat in the stiff breeze. The inevitable topic comes up: Where next? And
when? Thus begins our saga. We chose Cozumel starting the day after my 52nd
birthday. March 27 to April 3.

Over time the roster grew to include the 3 of us along with JudyG, Atlantans Deja
and Gregg (DiverGF), plus Houstonians Patricia (Smash), her non-D2D friend Brett
and the always entertaining Connie (aka the Contessa or the Constressa depending
on how many beers you've had). At Papa's suggestion we booked with an operator
I'd never heard of: - Blue XTSea, owned by some Texas ex-patriate named Christi
Courtney who tools around the island now in a Vespa-like scooter with a
bumpersticker that sez "Keep Austin Weird", What's not to like?

I could spend several paragraphs detailing each of my dives but you've done most of
those to death or read about them till you can't stand it so I'll spare you most of
it. I could detail my experiences driving to the airport, making connections, meeting
up with Papa so we could buy some duty-free Scotch, screaming kicking toddlers
on the plane and all that, but, again, I won't.

Coz Is Being Invaded By Pod People.

Just as George Bush sold out gay people so he could pander more effectively to the
religious right, Cozumel appears to have sold out divers in order to accommodate
more cruise ships. We counted 8 a day generally. It was a light day when there
were ONLY 6 ships in port. Maybe they should name one of them
Monstrosity-of-the-Seas. I know I'm preaching to the choir here, but it's a shame
really. Hey it's their island. And as DocV has lamented in the past, between that
and the golf course, the long-term future of diving as the island's primary draw is not
good. For the present, though, if you can solve for a few inherent challenges, it is
still quite good. Spectacular even, at times.

Quick aside: On one of the days when Christi actually dove with us, she remarked
about a particular well-represented cruise line as we sped past 2 of their ships
parked side-by-side. She'd taken one of them from Texas to Coz because it was
cheaper than shipping her stuff in the traditional manner. Anyway she said it was
like a floating trailer park. I about fell off the boat laughing.

OK, Here's The Diving Part.

Palancar: Right from the start, we all kind of fell in love with Palancar. The locals
are very careful to divide Palancar into four distinct sites: Bricks, Caves, Horseshoe
and Gardens. The first three, it seemed to me, were one continuous stretch of the
most magnificent diving on this planet. Cathedral, supposedly part of Punta Sur just
to the South, is part of this amazing topographical stretch. Of course I'm a sucker
for that sort of thing. You can get down and deep, do swim-throughs and hang along
the wall, float between spires so dramatic they give you religion?especially when
you look up. Or you can drift along the tops at 30-some-odd feet on your way
toward a safety stop, resisting the urge to drop back down. Or you can do both, as
we did several times that week. Seeing it in the early morning light, with shafts of
bright sunlight piercing through, was just breathtaking and I get a little verklempt
just thinking about it. Palancar in one form or another was included in our dive plan
on 3 separate days. And we did have choices. That's how good it was.

The great windy North: The other seriously noteworthy ocean dives were to the
North. To dive Barracuda and San Juan, both located North of the center of town
(North of the airport, even) you need permission from the harbormaster and brass
balls. The current in both places rips at 3 or 4 or 5 knots typically. And our visit
there was typical. It is as close to flying as divers get. By the time we did these
dives, we were routinely doing negative entries anyway, which are pretty much
required in the current. There was some minor downwelling but nothing
unmanageable. At one point, Papa and I found ourselves behind a break in the reef
catching our breath. After a few seconds, I held up 3 fingers, then 2, then one and
with a push off the sand, we flew away. Zoom zoom zoom. Like children, really.
After awhile we started ascending, and there was a memorable bonding experience
at 30-ish feet that I will probably remember forever: Papa, Chris and Judy holding
hands in a skydiver formation, beckoning me (slowpoke) to close the circle. It was
magic, ecstatic.

Christi had asked us to assemble that day at our usual pickup spot (Plaza Las
Glorias) 30 minutes early. Despite groans we showed up on time: she had
promised a surprise in exchange for the early start. At our surface interval, held on
the beach fronting a deserted former resort, we received our surprise: indescribably
delicious munchies, including a killer ceviche of lobster and octopus made by
Mago, our fabulously capable and friendly boat captain. There was also homemade
guacamole, homemade potato and tuna salads and other goodies. All this at 10:30
in the morning .

I?m not sure this was the original plan (we'd developed a habit of not sticking to
original plans), but we liked Barracuda so much we decided to do San Juan next.
Same deal with the current and the flying, basically, only this time we were in
a-ways from the wall. We did these 2 dives in separate groups of 4 and somehow,
inexplicably, the Constress wound up surging ahead of her group to join ours. (I
adore Connie. She didn't realize she was in the wrong group until she was in the
wrong boat, fully de-geared.) We practiced our skydive formation, this time turning
clockwise and counterclockwise, like little planets spinning and rotating at the
same time. It was glorious. Christi and I danced during the safety stop.

The Cenotes: Yall know me and the springs, right? I hate em, OK? I just do. But
this was spec-freakin-tacular. Christi had arranged a full tour, including ferry tickets,
a van, driver, porters, lunch, and 2 DMs (Diego and Joaquin, both major hotties by
the way). At Dale's suggestion months earlier we saved this excursion for our last
dive day because (a) it makes a great offgassing opportunity and (b) it's a natural
gear rinse. The entrance to Dos Ochos (2 eyes) reminded me of Devil's Den in
Williston initially. The water is gin-clear, like Ginnie Springs, only they don't do OW
classes here and there are no rednecks camping and hooting & hollering and
getting shitfaced right on the property. This resulted in 2 major differences. No
stirred-up silt and a much more pleasant surface interval. Dos Ochos is vast
compared to the Florida springs and has stalagmites and stalactites all over the place
left over from the last Ice Age. Some had grown together into columns. The people
who designed the oldest gothic French cathedrals surely dove here for inspiration.
Parts of it reminded me of the innermost reaches of Grand Central Station. Only we
were underwater, weigthless, moving eerily slowly with our fins up to keep from
disturbing anything. Frog-kicking, looking left and right in amazement, in single file
more or less. In my logbook where you put the number of feet of viz, I just wrote
' miles'. With water temps at 75 or so, I was toasty-warm in my 7-mil hyperstretch
and 5-mil hooded vest. Depth never exceeded about 30 feet.

Creature Comforts.

We stayed at Casa Mexicana which is right on the main road, accessible via an
escalator that was sometimes working. Rooms were inexpensive and really really
clean, with a balcony 2 can hang gear from. A most excellent breakfast buffet is
included, though for some reason there is no restaurant there that serves lunch or
dinner. Room prices range between about $90 and $108 USD depending on
location. Noise is a problem there so I'm glad I brought earplugs. If you face the
front, as Papa and Chrism did, you?ll hear Senior Frogs and Carlos n Charlies. If
you face the back, as Judy and I did, you'll hear Costa Bravo, a sleazier and
therefore more inviting bar than the ones in Plaza Langusta or whatever they call
that nasty place. Costa Bravo plays Mozart and Tchaikovsky every afternoon on the
deep-throated South American flute with a latin backup band. I would definitely
return to Casa Mex in a heartbeat and probably will before long.

Lunches were wherever we took our 2nd surface interval. Usually one of the public
beaches. Some days we did 3-tank dives, others were really two 2-tank trips. On
those occasions I sat out the afternoon and night dives and ate lunch in town. Papa
turned me onto Cafe Denis, which was just past the square.

Dinners started out great and kept getting better. French Quarter, our first night,
included a kickass birthday cake that Christi's friend had made. It's owned by a
guy - Mike, I think - from Alexandria, Louisiana who knows from cajun cooking. The
blackened wahoo was perfecto. La Choza, Prima's (Lobster Fra Diavolo), L'Espacia
(Thai Shrimp), Guido's (Pork Loin with apple-gorgonzola) and El Moro (Garlic
Shrimp) were all outstanding.

The Dive Op Gets What's Coming To Her.

Since I know Christi will be reading this I guess it's best to make a list of all the
things that I would change about Blue X-T-Sea and then, if there's space, talk about
some of the things I liked. On the 'change' side of the ledger: That guacamole on
Thursday? After Barracuda? Remember? It could have used a little more hot sauce
in it. I would change that. Oh, and one of my tanks had 2950 in it. As you can see,
I was making notes.

The 'what-I-liked' side of the ledger is a good bit more robust. Start with Miss Thing
herself. Christi was helping us organize the trip from the start, exchanging emails
with us almost daily after awhile - both individually and as a group. She
custom-built dive schedules that accommodated our tastes and preferences and
demands without the slightest harrumph. And we varied widely in our demands.
Upon arrival there was a bag awaiting each of us with day-by-day dive site details,
complete with restaurant suggestions that read like wine suggestions on a high-end
menu. Also some background info on the marine park and a custom-shirt.

Blue X-T-Sea uses a 6-passenger fast boat called Shamu, which on most days was
fine for us, captained by Mago and DMed by Raul Numero Uno, the best crew I can
remember working with. They were personable, funny, highly accomplished, and
gave us our heads in terms of dive freedom. That's a lot to ask for in a
crew - especially considering the group. On days when there were 8 of us she used
another boat, sometimes splitting us into 2 groups, and another DM named Raul
Numero Dos and some other guy whose name escapes me. When Nitrox was
available and the dive profiles warranted it, she got it for us. Despite my
disappointing 2950 tank that one time, fills were generally, well, full.

As part of the service, the operation - which is to say Christi, Raul Uno and
Mago - sets up your dive gear but not your wetsuit(s) and issues everyone a mesh
bag with your name on a tag. They rinse and store the gear for you overnight. Our
morning routine was to walk to PLG's dock, snicker at the other divers waiting for
the cattle boats, do some yogic stretches (Judy and me, anyway), ignoring snide
remarks from Papa and Chris, and hop on Shamu when it arrived. We were usually
in the water by 8:30. For many of the beachy surface intervals Christi showed up
and the crew would swap out tanks. After the last dive, you break down your gear,
put it in your bag, and walk back to the hotel either wearing or carrying your
neoprene.

Christi joined us for dinner fairly often and by the end of the week had morphed from
accommodating dive op to majorly cool friend and drinking buddy. We all just
clicked in a big way. For our last night, after returning from the Cenotes trip, we
joined her at Casa Christi for cocktails and then drove in mild rain to El Moro for a
final dinner that was just magnificent. Before the trip, somehow we'd gotten a list of
things she might like from the States and brought her some books, CDs and other
stuff.

Having sharply rebuked the one-sided DWM posts as thinly disguised spam, I?m
reluctant to praise Blue X-T-Sea too effusively. But her attention to detail was
refreshing, genuine and hugely satisfying. The operation has grown faster than
Christi expected and in one frank conversation that included some alcohol she
made it clear that she's deliberately steering clear of the pitfalls of too-rapid growth.
She would rather turn away business than take on more than she can handle well.
She's about quality and not quantity. Which is why it will be hard to book
last-minute with Blue X-T-Sea. On a scale of 0-10, she gets a 12, and it would be
hard to imagine anyone, at any skill level, not thoroughly enjoying the experience of
diving with her operation.

Bonding With The Buds.

Our little core group more than doubled in size, and everyone got along famously.
One last minute addition to the group was Philippe, who was using the unfortunate
board name DouDou when we met him and now uses a more suitable name that
alludes to his Swiss heritage. Funny, urbane, yet delightfully lowbrow when he
wanted to be, he glommed onto our little social world and fit in perfectly. Damn
good diver, too. Rooming with Judy was a complete pleasure, as were the
near-nightly cocktails in Papa and Chris' room facing the harbor. It was great
hanging out with Dale and Gregg and getting to know Patricia and Brett also. And
the Constressa? We'd hit it off in Galapagos last year and built on it. But the real
star of the trip was Christi. Thanks to all for making this trip so memorable and
especially to Papa for organizing it, pulling the details together and moving things
forward. As I said repeatedly at the time, Consigliere, you da man!

© Richard Salkin 2004