Scuba: Why I dove in, why my plan was bonkers, and why I don’t regret it
The journey into the center of Cozumel hadn’t gone well. The airport ATM wasn’t working, so I had no money for a taxi. When a kind stranger offered me a ride and I accepted, I braced the whole drive for some terrifying shoe to drop — an attempt at theft, or a timeshare pitch. (It didn’t; she was just a nice person.) The apartment I’d booked looked dodgy and crumbling from the outside, and there was no toilet paper in the bathroom. Repeated calls to my credit union kept getting disconnected. Darkness was descending.
That’s when it hit me: I was in Mexico, alone, with no cash, about to seek certification in scuba diving — a sport dangerous enough that it’s not covered by most health insurance policies. What was I thinking?! I burst into tears.
Some say it’s healthy to do something that scares you every day, but that’s not my typical M.O. I like comfort and routines. I avoid rollercoasters, extreme sports, even hiking trails with sheer cliffs or slippery ice. When I was four, I once sat at the top of my preschool’s playground slide for 20 minutes, too paralyzed by fear to descend. (My family will never let me hear the end of that one.)
So why, in March 2020, was I suddenly craving descent?
Why scuba diving?
My love affair with the ocean began early. I grew up just a mile from the Pacific, in a California town known for its excellent surfing and laid-back beach culture. I wasn’t an athletic kid, but swimming came easily to me. on land, I felt thwarted by gravity, forever cursed to trip on pavement cracks and run into coffee tables. In water, I felt weightless and elegant.
On a family vacation in Kauai, I learned it wasn’t just swimming I loved — it was also marine life. I still remember the awe I felt at seeing tropical fish and sea turtles up close, at swimming along with them as if I were part of their ecosystem.
Yet when I later learned about SCUBA diving, I didn’t think it was the sport for me. It felt daunting and out of reach: too technical, too expensive, too male-dominated. I dismissed it until, years later, social media showed me how many SCUBA divers out there were younger women like me. I thought: If they can do it, why can’t I?
Why Cozumel?
In 2020, after years of dreaming about becoming a mermaid, I decided that it was time to pull the trigger: This was the year I would get my Open Water certification, allowing me to scuba dive anywhere in the world, any time, for the rest of my life.
Getting Open Water certified involves a combination of book learning, hands-on training and four “checkout” dives. Some people do all of their learning in one place, moving between a dive shop’s classroom, pool and beach over the course of five days or a week. Others choose to make their home their “classroom,” completing an e-learning module before doing their hands-on training and checkout dives in another place. Still others break up all three components — doing e-learning on their own, moving to a local dive shop for the skills training and completing the checkout dives while on vacation.
I chose the middle option: I studied online over the course of a month, then I traveled to Cozumel, Mexico, to complete my hands-on training and checkout dives over the course of two days.
Why did I break up the training in this way? Because I had two priorities: Good weather and affordability.
I knew from the beginning that I wanted my first dives to take place in warm, gentle, crystal-clear conditions. I’d heard horror stories from friends who had been certified in New Mexico’s murky, freezing Blue Hole. I’d also watched YouTube videos showing the dive experience in New England, and let’s say the visibility and marine life left a lot to be desired. Learning to dive seemed daunting enough without the added challenges of cold and darkness, and I didn’t want one bad experience to scare me off diving in the future.
The only U.S. place that fit my bill was Florida — but I soon realized the cost of certification and accommodation there was too steep. Mexico, on the other hand, was much more affordable, with some dive shops offering certification courses for as low as $300 and some studio apartments going for as little as $20 a night. Cozumel seemed to offer the best combination of great underwater conditions and good topside cost.
Finally, I chose to do the classroom learning on my own, in advance of the trip. After all, who wants to waste their limited time in paradise stressing inside a classroom, rather than relaxing on the beach?
Why my plan was (slightly) bonkers
While I don’t regret the approach I took, there are a few things I’d do differently if I had to get certified again.
One: I would have tried diving before going for my certification! Pretty much every large dive shop around the world offers Discover Scuba Diving, which allows total newbies to skip over all the Open Water lessons in science, safety and self-rescue and cut to the good part: a peaceful, guided float through beautiful landscapes of coral and fish.
Most people log a few of these heavily supervised Discover dives before they pursue Open Water certification, and I should have been one of them. Before ever dipping a single fin into the ocean, I had spent hours puzzling over the assembly of gear I’d never seen in real life, worrying whether I’d be able to remember lessons I couldn’t apply at home. Plus, I’d psyched myself out thinking about all the ways I could hurt myself or die. By the time I got to Cozumel, I was so nervous I almost didn’t go through with the certification!
Two: I wouldn’t have gone alone. I chose to travel solo to Mexico, rather than travel with my husband or a friend. I signed up for a group certification class, assuming I’d easily meet and bond with other people. But I ended up training with just one other woman, and she spent all her free time with her already-certified partner. So much for newbie solidarity!
I know now that there are so many ways to get certified in a fun group setting. For example, you can do your classroom or skills training at a dive shop in your area, then you can join that shop’s annual trip to the tropics for your checkout dives — that way, you’re guaranteed to know a few of the people getting certified alongside you! Or you can all around to dive shops in the place where you’d like to get certified and find out which of them train in larger (but not too large) groups. I chose reputation over vibe, which I don’t regret — it kept me safe, after all! — but it did have its drawbacks.
Three: I would have chosen more dive-focused accommodations. Affordability was my number one priority on this trip, so much so that I opted for a rustic $20-per-night casita on the fringes of downtown to save money. It would have been fine had someone been with me, but I felt isolated there as a solo traveler. In retrospect, I should have plunked down a little more money to stay in a hotel or hostel closer to the center, where I could have met and bonded with other traveling divers.
Why my timing was terrible
Believe it or not, I left for Mexico on March 7, 2020, about a week before much of the United States went into lockdown mode. Ahead of my departure, this “coronavirus” thing was a hot topic at home and at the office, but no one knew then how quickly it would spread and how deadly it could be. But over the course of the week I spent in Cozumel, everything changed.
When I arrived, cruise ships were still pulling into the port in droves, and the locals were making jokes about staying healthy by switching from Corona to Sol. Three days later, the governor of my state announced that international travelers would be required to quarantine for two weeks after landing back in the U.S. A day after that, my employer announced it was sending all employees home for the foreseeable future. Toward the end of my trip, borders were closing so fast I started fretting about whether I’d even make it back into the U.S.
I couldn’t have foreseen this turn of events — no one could. Even if I had chosen to forego the trip out of an abundance of caution, I’d have been out hundreds of dollars: Airlines and tourism-focused companies weren’t offering refunds at that point. I’m not ashamed I chose to go ahead with the trip, but I have to admit that traveling to a developing country the week everything changed was nerve-racking. Every day was tinged with a little bit of anxiety, even the days I spent lounging by a beach with a drink in hand.
Why I’d do it all again
Scuba diving alone in a developing country on the precipice of a global pandemic wasn’t ideal, but it sure was a learning experience.
Doing my Open Water e-certification alone — then completing my skills training and checkout dives without a friend or partner alongside me — was scary. But it also forced me to double- and triple-check my knowledge and ask lots of questions along the way, which improved my confidence in the water. I felt especially proud when I got certified, because I had overcome lots of fears and anxieties on my own to get there.
I had never been to Mexico alone, and that, too, felt a little daunting. But making it through the challenges of that first day, learning how to get around the island by bike and putting my high school Spanish to the test was empowering. Ever since Cozumel, I’ve felt more ready to take on travel destinations that once intimidated me.
Lastly, traveling at the very beginning of the pandemic showed me my own surprising strength in times of stress. Despite the low-level anxiety I felt throughout that week, I powered through by gathering the facts, staying in contact with friends and family and reminding myself how much remained in my control.
If you go
In case you’d like to follow in my footsteps and get certified in Cozumel, here’s some information that might help!
PADI 5-star dive centers and resorts in Cozumel (Guaranteed safety and quality instruction)
Rent A Bike Cozumel (Just $100 USD for a week)
Cozumel My Cozumel (Guides for eating, shopping and traveling on and off the beaten path)
Cozumel 4 You Facebook group (Great local resource for information on where to stay & what to do)
Lonely Planet: Welcome to Cancún, Cozumel and the Yucatan (Intro to culture, history and tourism in the region)
