Buddhas and Divers

Today ( 27th August 2010) is once again a chill out day. Heat is blasting its way along the streets, side-walks swirl hot dust around ones ankles, vehicles belch even hotter fumes into your face, taxi's look quite inviting as they pass with their air conditioning on full.

The plan of the day was to have a sight seeing day. A visit to the Train Station to book our tickets and a visit to the White Buddha, to be followed by general exploration of the area. The day has not exactly progressed as planned!

The early 5.30 rise of the past few days was abandoned in favour of a whole hour lie in. My morning ritual was completed just before Lisa and Steve surfaced from next door. Doors were locked and armed with our camera's, my hat and a few hundred Dong we set off along the busy streets towards the trains.

The heat was rising by the second and Steve was beginning to suffer. I luckily relish the heat, full length dresses allow air to circulate as you walk, my hat keeps the sun from my head and shoulders and at a steady pace I can wander the streets all day, exploring alleys and side roads until hopelessly lost. By the time Steve made it to the Train Station, his shirt resembled the end result of a wet T-shirt competition. Moisture poured from his body, rivulets trickled down his face to drop from his nose or chin.

The Train we had originally wanted was full but the next one had space and still got us to Saigon in time for Lisa's 8.30 flight. We booked the tickets, using up most of our Dong in the process.

Next stop the White Buddha, sitting atop his hill, the only hill in Nha Trang. Those of you who have been following my Blog, will know that I have never made it to the White Buddha before. A year ago Kris had refused point blank to walk the steps or to show me the way, Peter had bottled out on my last visit in favour of the beach and so my directions to this famous local monument were vague to say the least.

I had passed it on the Train as we approached the Train Station in May, so this seemed like quite a good direction to start. I also knew it was on a hill, but from our narrowed street level view point, hills were a bit hard to spot.

We walked the 50m to the next large round about, cars and bikes streamed in all directions, no signs, no directions, no pictures of a Buddha on large Brown Tourist Boards. I hailed a taxi.

“Where Buddha, please?”, he passed me a piece of paper. I wrote 'Buddha' and passed it back. He looked confused and passed me the paper once more. I drew a head, folded arms, bended knees. Recognition dawned as he grinned and nodded his head. He opened the door, beckoning us in.

“How much, please?” I enquired. After my last rather expensive taxi ride, I needed to know well in advance. “Meter” was all he would say and so we got in. Our taxi entered the main stream of moving traffic, merged with all the other residents of the road on the round about, extracted himself from the heaving medley and pulled up less than 100m further along the road outside large gates!! 11,000 Dong was handed over (30p) as we laughed at our incredibly long journey.

Once inside the entrance we were greeted by three girls in immaculate uniform, they were our free guides we were informed, they lived with the monks and studied at the school there. We chatted as we walked, clicking away with our cameras as we went. They led us up steps to a large shrine where we removed our shoes before entering. We paid our obeisances and took more pictures, marvelled at the craftsman ship around the walls, took artistic photos of the hanging umbrellas and left.

A few more steps and we were shown to the reclining or sleeping Buddha. My panoramic shot unfortunately makes him look pot bellied! As we went to move on, the post cards each girl had hidden in their pockets, came out. Nothing is for free! The money, they explained went to the school, at 200 Dong each packet (£7.50) they were not cheap. We bought one between us and having shown us the steps to the top of the hill, the girls left us to search for more people to guide.


We climbed the steps, stopping briefly to watch a ceremony being performed at the Huge hanging bell.
Money was handed over and the monk invited the people to sit inside the bell. Once inside he swung the large hammer, sound resonating all around. He intoned a few prayers, rang the bell again and invited other members of the family to enter the bell.

We climbed higher, looked dismally at the rubbish scattered throughout the trees and emerged onto the plateau in brilliant sunshine. There ahead of us at the top of just a few more steps, was the White Buddha. We were offered fans, water, soft drinks, whistles, incense, coconuts, and much more by the few stalls and girls working the surrounding area. We were followed as we climbed the last few steps, their voices persistent as they tried to dispose us of our money. They followed us as we walked to the back of this enormous statue, they even climbed the steps that lead to the small temple inside.

A solitary man sat quietly in the corner, silently watching, silently waiting. I once again paid my obeisances, took a photo, marvelled at the carvings on the walls and bowing respectfully to the man, left. Outside, the throng of ladies had thankfully dispersed.

We wandered down a few steps to the crematorium. Hundreds of tiny boxes in long walls, holding loved ones safe and remembered. Some had pictures, some just had dates, each one had the remains of burnt incense sticks, each one was once a person.


We returned to the Buddha, took the obligatory photo on the steps, before descending once more to the courtyard below. Steve's shirt clung ever tighter to his flesh. We took refuge in the cafe, aiming the fan directly at him, until he cooled enough for the return journey.

By the time we had reached the Train Station he was dripping again. We hailed another taxi, he was not going to make it home. Lisa and Steve returned to the hotel cooled by the air-con, while I spent another hour wandering down the side roads and getting lost in the alleys. It is now 12.30, further exploration has been abandoned as I sit on the cool balcony, Lisa reads a book and Steve recovers in the full blast of the fan on his bed!

But 'There are no bad things that happen, only good that take longer to understand' and this unforeseen change of plan now means I have the time to sit and write about the last two days of incredible diving!

I will try not to bore you too much with narrative, previous tales should now have you familiar with the daily routine of 5.30 rises, equipment loads, kit assemble and breakfasts. The ride out to the dive site was calm to the point of tranquillity. Not even rolling swells broke the horizon.

Nick was once again leading the dive, Lisa was with Kris, again performing various scenarios and responses for her Rescue Diver Course. Nick wanted to be first into the water and so we were ready as the boat finally shut off its engines. Lisa had been told to wait until everyone else was in the water and so sat at the very front of the boat. Suddenly a shout went up from Nick, he flailed in the water, submerged and surfaced. Lisa shot from the front, calling out instructions as she went. She hadn't been expecting this! Nicks 'Rescue' was flawless. I was speechless as I hadn't realised it was 'pretend' until the end!


Relieved, and by now very hot, Steve and I entered the water and sank into the depths. We headed out to the large rock at Moray Beach where an entire world spirals around the coral encrusted outcrop. Squirrel fish, trumpet fish, baby box, big box, feathered worms, sponges, sea anemones, the list is endless.

We hung upside down looking into crevices, we circled the rock peering under the lower ledges. Half an hour later it was time to move back towards the boat and reluctantly we left our treasure trove of marine life.


We met up with Lisa and Kris on the way, he checked our air and signalled for us to follow him as he led us back towards our rock. Once there he proceeded to point out things we had missed. A Loin fish lay quivering in the sand, nudibranchs crawled their way over rocks, shrimps lay hidden, a conga eel nestled in his lair.



Eventually it was time once more to leave, we returned to the boat, took a few more unusual group shots and climbed on board. Air was replenished, nourishment was consumed, sun warmed our bodies and we were ready to return to the depths.

With Lisa's skills finished, she and Kris once more joined us after a short while. Together we explored the reef, moving slowly in the gentle current.


A cuttle fish hung, camouflaged against the surrounding area, as we approached he went black, warning us to stay away. The cameras clicked, he retreated a short distance and returned to his calm mottled white colours.


More Lion fish were found, one as small as Kris's finger, perfect in every way.

The dive continued, the scene ever changing, ever the same.


We returned to the boat full of tales,”Did you see …. ? What about the …...!!” All of us talking at once after our hour of silent wanderings.



We met up that evening to once more compare notes over dinner. Lisa had now finished her course save her final exam and it was Kris's day off in the morning. His normal late night was abandoned as he announced that he would lead us all out on a dive the next day. The next day being his DAY OFF!! This fact was mentioned quite often as the evening progressed.


Despite his 'Day Off' status, we were all at the dive shop loading and unloading like usual the next day. Breakfast was consumed, the days guests were greeted, the morning Boat Brief delivered and we were on our way.


At South Beach we were once more the first ones into the water, dropping down quite quickly to 17m. I was happily looking around on the sand when Lisa tapped me gently on the shoulder. I turned to see her signalling for me to rise. We returned to 10m, Nick signalled for us to remain at this depth, while Steve and Kris continued their assent. Another 'O' Ring had blown!!!!

Kris replaced his 'O' Ring at the surface, checked his air and descended once more. Another disaster averted! The water was quite cold at the bottom and I was grateful for my wetsuit. The others, immune to the cold, as I am to the heat, happily swam in just their shorts and rash-vests!

The waters were explored, the residents observed, the underwater universe became ours for an hour.





Our second dive was at Octopus Rock.


We motored around the bay to our mooring, passing the cliffs with their hanging huts and precarious walk-ways. These 'residences' belong to the Bird Nest collectors and the surrounding area is guarded well by the territorial Vietnamese men who make their living from this precarious existence.

With dinner happily inside us we kitted up for our next dive. Octopus, you will remember, is the home of all the swim throughs and this time we had air! The visibility was poor in comparison to our last visit, sediment hung in the water, pulled in by the changing full moon currents.


Incredible feathered anemones drew in their tentacles feeding their central mouth, two nudibrach worked their way across a rock, life moved all around us.


The time passed quickly and with reluctance we returned to the boat. Kit was stowed and we retired to the top deck to compare photos while the sun scorched the decks.

Ice creams were consumed for lunch, showers and rests were taken at our room. I settled to write the Blog now four days in arrears! At 6.15 I pressed 'Publish' determined to return to it later to finish uploading the photos.


By 8pm we were on the beach, the full moon hidden behind the clouds. Simon had invited us to another Beach BBQ and Tri's wife had prepared special food for me to eat.

Simon's son JJ was now 18 months old and had grown in the two months I had been away. We sat and we ate, we chatted and we laughed. Nick and Leslie joined us and we arranged a final day out on the boat together.

The days are passing so quickly in Nha Trang. In two more days Lisa and Steve will return to the UK, I will move on to Singapore to meet up with Peter. So much to do, so little time left.

O Rings and Breakfasts

My Chill-out day passed in the most pleasant of ways. I wandered, I took photos, I read, I chopped fruit into small chunks on my balcony and ate them one by one. At mid-day however, my phone shattered the temporary peace, my children wanted me to join them for lunch. My chill day was over!

Lunch was eaten, ice creams soon followed, my healthy regime of fruit and water destroyed in a moment. Steve returned at 1.30 from his day on the dive boat with tales of blown 'O' rings and elusive shrimps. He had been discussing with Nick, on the way out to the dive site, all his various diving disasters. The final query to Nick, asking if he had ever had to cope with an 'O' ring blow out underwater, was met with,

“It hasn't happened yet and I don't plan for it to happen!”

Seven minutes into their dive Steve swam over to Nick and pointed to his tank. Bubbles were steaming from the valve, spiralling upwards to the surface like some underwater geyser, the 'O' ring had blown! Nick stared at it in silent amazement, turned the air off and together they surfaced. The rig was removed and passed up to the boat, the 'O' rig was replaced and the rig was passed back into the water. Steve kitted up and they sank beneath the depths once more.

At the bottom Steve checked his air, 80 bar! Enough for possibly 5 to 10 minutes. They surfaced again, replaced the tank, reassembled the kit, and tried again. The rest of the dive progressed well, with both divers enjoying their search and find routine, as they scoured the depths for shrimps and other creatures. Nick took a selection of photos, Steve found more and more things to photograph and the dive was soon over.

Their second dive progressed without incident and they returned home with tales to tell. We took Steve home for a shower and a snooze before joining Kris and Steph for our evening meal. Another day over.


Wednesday was a snorkel day for Steve and myself, open water rescues scenarios for Lisa, plus an early morning breakfast in the bay. The alarm woke us at 5.45, the sun well above the horizon, we were expected at the dive shop by 6.20! If we were having Staff Discount, then we had to do Staff work! Steve and Lisa helped to load the van with the days requirements, while I sat silently contemplating the memo that Simon had sent out the week before. It read,

'Why is it that when there are 10 people to load the van each morning, you STILL manage to forget something!'

I wondered what today's 'missing item' would be. With the van loaded and on its way, we boarded the mini bus, following at a discreet distance. Tanks and equipment were unloaded at the dock, carried down a lot of steps and stored safely onto the boat. The next job was the assembly of everybody's kit. BCDs (Buoyancy Control Devices) were joined to tanks and regulators.



Air pressures were checked , Small BCDs were paired with the small wet suits, Large BCDs were draped with large wetsuits, ready for the customers arrival. Boxes were stored, storage bags were hidden and with the boat finally 'ship shape', we returned to the harbour side to find our breakfast.



The whole area around the harbour, is filled with shops, static stalls and tiny mobile stalls that can cook you up the most amazing breakfast in seconds. Rolls filled with eggs, rolls filled with meat, cheese, salad, chilli sauce or a combination of them all, rice with eggs, rice with meat, rice with fish, omelets cooked in your very own pan, noodle soup, iced coffee, strange smelling tea, or even a deep fried sea horse or two!
Lisa opted for a simple cheese roll, Steve joined Kris in a runny omelet, coffees arrived and breakfast was set.



A side note about the way ice is used, may be of interest at this point. Hot coffee is a rarely consumed in this hot climate, iced tea, iced coffee, iced cola in a bag, is more the norm. The ice is delivered to the side of the road in large slabs, these are then covered with a huge tarpaulin to keep off, whatever it is they need to keep off.






When ice is required by some-one, or some stall, they approach the ice slab guardian and request what ever amount they need. A chunk is then hacked off the ice mountain and moved to its new location. Sometimes on a push bike, sometimes in a carry bag, sometimes by hand. It is then smashed into smaller chunks and eventually ends in ones coffee, or other iced drink of choice.



Once you have witnessed this process, on the side of main road, or on the street pavement, or on the rat infested harbour slabs, one tries not to think about it ever again, and simply enjoys the cold drink as it passes down the throat!


With breakfast over, we returned to the boat in time to welcome the guests of the day. Ten fellow diver boarded, the lines were drawn in and we were off. As we approached the harbour mouth and slowed to allow a calm rendition of the 'Morning's Briefing', I noted with surprise that the tyres, usually used to protect the bow, were being drawn up onto the deck on the starboard side.

Sean completed the 'Boat's Brief' and we once again fired up the motor and headed out to sea. It takes about 45 minutes to reach the dive site, a trip I have now completed many times, a chance to enjoy the gentle swells and gaze at the lobster village en route. Today the ride proved to be slightly different.

As we cleared the lee of the first island, the full force of the wind hit us. Swells of 5 to 6 foot picked us up and dropped us with a large splash back into the sea. Belongings were soon being moved into the captain's cabin as more and more water splashed its way into the boat. Having decides that once I was wet, I was wet, I removed my sarong, stowed my bag and positioned myself to the front of the boat, starboard side. Standing, with a firm grip on the overhead hand rail, I abandoned myself to the cooling spray and waves.

We headed directly into the ever growing waves, each one picking us up high, before the anticipated slam into the trough sent the next wave careering over the front of the boat. I watched, in fascination, the way the waves rocked and moved us, I felt the rhythm in my knees, felt the deck move below my feet and kept myself fluid with each roll.

From a distance, two enormous waves were approaching. I knew the first wave would lift us, the second would probably break on us. I stood facing into the wind, ready for the wave, ready for the lift, ready for the huge drop. What I wasn't ready for was the way the centre benches, full of seated people, flew across the boat, the way the tanks broke loose, crashing onto their sides and the way the huge water butt fell from its shelf to the floor, smashing itself in the process. With my eyes fixed firmly on the horizon, knees absorbing the movement, I hadn't realised that the boat had nearly turned over, throwing customers and equipment around like toys. I had watched it approach, I had bent my knees and ridden out the movement, they had not. Kris quickly checked the customers while staff rescued the equipment.

Half a dozen more swells lifted and threw us away before our captain turned the boat quickly, cutting across the waves to have them to our rear, pushing us along and safe into the lee of the next island. Calm returned to the boat, gentle rocking replaced our maddened dance. People moved the benches and once again sat down. We had about ten minutes to restore the place until we broke out into unprotected waves again.

Our second pounding was much shorter lived than the first. No enormous waves attacked us. Huge waves picked us up and threw us to the floor, water ran in torrents down the length of the boat but adrenaline had hit in and everyone clung smiling to the hand rails, moving with the rhythm.

The dive site was reached without further drama, calm water surrounded Octopus Rock, people began to get ready for their dives. I looked back at the white cresting waves beyond the island. Forget snorkelling, I wanted to go back out there again!!!


Steve and I donned our masks and fins and slipped into the water. We had decided to follow Jordan and his two divers from the surface as they worked their way along the sea floor, searching for things of interest.



We repeatedly dove down to their sides, looking at what they were looking at and then returning to the surface for another breath. As they circled the large rock with a tiny swim through, Steve dove down and swam through the tiny hole. I had been through the swim-through with Kris earlier in the week but from the other side. The entrance looked quite small from this side. Steve surfaced saying to be careful of my back as I went through. I dove down, wiggled through the hole and was paying so much attention to my back clearance, I failed to notice how close the edge wall was, and scrapped my elbow!


I surfaced, annoyed with myself for being so careless and nursing a bleeding joint. We continued with our swim finding more and more swim through's along the way.



The wind, although lessened by the island, was still giving me a chill factor and I returned to the boat well before Steve to warm myself on the sheltered deck.

The divers returned soon after, changed their air supply and with lunch eaten we moved slightly along the coast to the second dive site. The shallow reef at Tri-Ming is teeming with life and I was soon absorbed within its ecosystem.

Long trumpet fish hung in the water, stripe legged shrimps clung under ledges, dragon fish lay silent on the sand. Reef watching is addictive, the more you look, the more you see, the more you want to look.

The wind once more drove me onto the hot sheltered deck where I rested from my exertions. The sun was hot and I was soon dozing with the gentle rocking. I awoke to the sound of engines. The two boats we were moored to were moving. Our rope was thrown back to us and we moved 75m to join the other two boats moored in the bay.

Warren surfaces beside the boat, a cheer went up from the Boat Dive Masters for his accuracy. Kris and Lisa surfaced at our original mooring spot, as did Steph and Sean with their divers. Jordan surfaced 50m beyond the original drop off point and looked longingly at the boat now over 100m away. With everyone else now on-board, Kris decided it was easier to pick him up along the way and the engine roared into life.

The pick up went smoothly, or as smoothly as the jeering crowd would allow. The divers were pulled on board as the wind began to whip around the bay. When the captain looked out of his cabin to check we were ready to leave, his baseball cap was picked up by a rogue gust and flung into the sea. Lisa, having just completed her second day of rescue Diver, shouted “Rescue Diver, let me through!” and dived off the back of the boat. She surfaced right next to the cap, placed it on her head and returned to the boat, a successful rescue completed, to rounds of applause and smiles!

A warning to secure all belongings, as turning around would not be an option once we reached the open sea, was delivered to the boat and we began our journey home. It was not as dramatic as our outward journey but none the less exhilarating. We battled into the wind for about 100 meters, at ease now with the familiar rise and crash of the waves, before turning sharply, driving them to our stern. A straw sun hat flew overboard. We all looked at it for a second, the boat still for the moment, as the engine recovered from the turn. Do we, don't we? The next wave answered the question for us, picking us up and surging us forward. Wave after wave carried us away from the stricken hat, white foam fighting its way onto the decks once more.

In the distance we watched the final dive boat leave the dive site and fight its way through the waves. Unlike us, it cut straight across the waves and was rolling dangerously from side to side. We watched, grateful for the foresight of our captain, as the other boat was thrown this way and that, by the relentless waves and wind.

We reached the safety of the harbour battered and windswept. It had been the best boat ride I had ever had and I had loved every minute of it. Out of the wind, however, I realised that I had possibly caught the sun just a touch more than anticipated. Glowing cheeks were soon being cooled under a very cold shower and an hours sleep was had by all.

Kris, unable to take a recovery sleep due to the fact that he had to work, requested an early night that evening. We joined him at Sailing Club for an hour, while he finished his shift and, having said our good-nights, Lisa, Steve and I, walked along the beach as the days gales dropped to a pleasant evening breeze.

A full moon crested the island, hazy in the evening sky. We stopped for a photo or two before returning to our rooms. A few games of backgammon followed, a few pages of the books were read before the power died!

In darkness and without the aid of a cooling fan we retired to our beds. It was 9pm!!!