The year was 1964 Late May or early June. I was 16 years of age, newly graduated from high school, on my own and with no plans for the summer. I had applied to the University of Victoria for the next semester starting in September, but I had not heard from them. I assumed that I would be accepted I had a few scholarships so my financial worries were done for the upcoming year. It was now time to figure out just what my summer plans were going to be. All of my school buddies were in the process of applying for summer jobs. That, however, sounded like a pretty dull way to spend what I felt would be my last free summer. I decided to hit the road and head south to Mexico.
In those long ago times, hitch-hiking was a reasonably safe method to travel. It was the summer of love, hippies and free spirits abounded on the open roads. Riding your thumb really was the only way to travel for a poor starving, soon to be university student. I informed my father about my plans. This was just the beginning of our estrangement period and harsh words were exchanged, on both sides. Once he realized that my mind was made up, he did relent a little and arranged for me to base my activities out of palm desert California, at some friends of his.
Pack all set up [toothbrush, a couple of changes of underwear] and a little money, I set out. Getting from my small hometown of Courtenay to the B.C. Ferries was actually the most difficult part of hitching a ride. This was my first big adventure and I was determined to make the most of it. Once on the other side [the mainland] my anticipation of adventure increased. I stuck my thumb out and almost immediately caught a ride.
I cannot remember having any problems at the border, when we crossed into the US. After that, much of the trip is a faded memory. I would travel for a while, do the odd job now and then, and then continue on my way. I can remember on part of the trip was down the west coat of Oregon. This was such a spectacular part of my odyssey, that to this day, I can see that coast as clearly as the day I traveled it. There were large stretches of Open Ocean with the waves thundering on shore. I believe that I spent a couple of days just reveling in the solitude and splendor of that wild coast.
In due time, I arrived at my fathers friends. I guess that he had arranged everything for me since these wonderful people pretty much pandered to my every need. I spent a couple of days just relaxing, cleaning up and preparing for my expedition to Mexico. When I was ready to go, I called my father to let him know that I had arrived safely, and was heading out. Time and distance must have played a part in our conversation since he was so much more cordial and agreeable. { I will never admit that perhaps I was growing and maturing and that perhaps parts of his benevolence was a reflection of my change.
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Once I entered Mexico, I found myself in a whole different world. The people were very friendly and giving. This, in spite of the fact that by our standards, they were extremely poor. When they found out that I was from Canada, they could not do enough for me. Canada was an exotic location, just rampant with Eskimos, igloos and red coated cops. At least that was the impression that most everyone that I encountered had. I had to do a lot of explaining that we were not perpetually ice bound, and that Canada was a country not unlike the US. I should mention that I was fluent in Spanish back in those days [as well as German, Italian, Latin, Russian] and this paved inroads into aspects of their lives where a foreigner might not normally be accepted. I spent a few weeks just bumming around and in time, I found myself at a small community called Cozumel.
Oh the memories of that place!! It had pretty much everything I dreamed of at the time. I was from a small town. Back then, Cozumal was a small town. The people were jovial and outgoing and friendly. I was made to feel welcome and invited to stay for as long as I wished. But the best thing, the most exciting aspect for me, was the diving. The water was clear, warm, full of life. Diving consisted of a t shirt, fins, mask, tank and regulator. No more suiting up in a home made suit, no bulky weights to carry around. The visibility went on forever [or so it seemed] and the days were considerably longer that they were at home. I could dive to my hearts content. I got a job helping out at a marina there. Not that there was much to do. Maybe the odd inspection job, perhaps a small salvage, or, if I was lucky, taking a couple of divers out. Even though I was comparatively young I had turned 17 by this point], I still had more dive time than most anyone there. There was one fellow there, and unfortunately I cannot remember his name { I keep coming up with Juan.. that is too stereotypical and I am certain that it was not his name] who I formed a good relationship with. He was younger, perhaps 22 or so, and he was a diver. We went everywhere diving. He had a boat so he took me to some great areas unreachable under normal circumstances.
One day, he asked if I wanted to go and get some black coral. Now for anyone who does not know, black coral is pretty rare. As such, Juan[?] could get a pretty good dollar for it, or peso as the case may be. The problem is that it is only found in deep water.. very deep water. I was all for it. When we arrived at his chosen site, we prepared ourselves for the dive. He told me that we would be around 175 feet of so. I had never been that deep before. But, I was 17 years old and indestructible.
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Down we went. I wish that could tell you that it was an exciting dive, full of peril and shock. No, it was a straightforward dive, albeit very deep, One thing I had never been able to do while diving was see the boat. However, this time, a very tiny boat could be seen while we were down. That in itself was worth the dive. We did collect a few trees of black coral came up and the dive ended. I still have a few pieces of that coral even now!! I think I might have given Royal a piece when he was up here.
The summer continued on and all too soon, I had to return to the island to go to University. However, my first summer by myself, away from home, was a most memorable experience. I still remember those dives with fondness.
Calm seas. fair winds
Mikie
Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 02/24/2009 10:16PM by Wayne in BC.
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Black coral
N/T
