Writing for Fun
March 2016
Rock Bottom - Jan Osborne
Bathed in the blood red and gold light of the Yucatan dawn the cenote exuded a terrible sort of beauty. Ethereal wisps of mist drifted over the dark still waters of this deep, circular sinkhole. Huge tree roots pierced the overhang of what remained of the roof of this once limestone cave and dangled down through the languid, vaporous air to disappear into the inky depths of the water; like dead men's fingers probing for victims to take to a hell below. Alan shivered. He was being fanciful. He gave himself a mental shake and withdrawing his gaze from the pool continued struggling into his underwater gear. He must try to rid himself of this sense of impending doom he was experiencing about the forthcoming dive. Perhaps it was the large bedtime whisky and the reading of the more gruesome aspects of Mayan culture and their belief these cenotes marked gateways to Hell. He tried to chuckle but it sounded to his own ears more like a strangled cough.
He and his co researcher Michael were part of a team of experienced marine archaeologists and cave divers mapping this underwater cave system in the jungle near Tulum. This site was one of two newly discovered cenotes only a mile apart. He and Michael were to dive this sinkhole whilst others explored its twin to see if there was an underwater connection.
Yesterday they done a preliminary dive to determine depth, potential hazards and to set up a guide line from the water surface to the bedrock below. It was a deep cenote; over 150 feet. This would require them stopping at carefully calculated intervals for safe decompression when coming back to the surface. They would leave spare tanks and breathing apparatus for both divers at the lowest decompression station.
Alan and Michael checked their own then each other's diving gear. Donned in wet suits and carrying all necessary equipment they climbed down a winding scree slope to the water's edge and slipping into the cool clear depths swam across to the guide line. Both gave the thumbs up and flipping over swam downwards holding the rope.
As Alan dived deeper his sense of foreboding increased although he still could not say why. He made one last attempt to close his mind to fanciful thoughts of Mayan hell holes and the underworld and determinedly pushed himself downwards. The first thirty foot of azure blue fresh water ended abruptly as it met the upcoming salt water below. On the interface of the two was a surreal layer of billowing clouds of sulphur. Light was cut off abruptly as he dived through and the life line took on a new importance.
Down at 153 feet he made contact with the floor of the cenote. A touch on the shoulder made him jump nearly out of his skin. Hell, it was just Michael arriving on the rock bottom as well! The silt stirred up by their presence churned their world into an impenetrable inky void keeping them rooted to the spot until the mud settled back down again. Alan could then see Michael grinning at him through his face mask. Irritated at showing fear he made a very un-diver like finger gesture back. Michael's grin widened. Both then sobered up and ran their last dive checks ensuring that their new small GPS Navimates, strapped to their wrists, were operating. These units would be used to record the position of anything of interest that they found for easy location and exploration in future dives. Both men then swam the radius of the cenote together until they hit the limestone wall where they parted company; setting off round the circumference in opposite directions with the aim of searching for cracks or crevices that might provide an opening to passages beyond that would link the two cenotes and noting their position on their Navimates.
Alan fought down the urge to turn and scurry after his friend. This was silly; he was a professional diver and knew panic and foggy thinking could kill. He pressed on swimming forward and sweeping arcs of light from his powerful hand held torch over the limestone walls; fascinated by the marine life still to be found at this depth.
The wall of the cenote proved to be remarkably smooth and sheer with minimal animal life but a fair amount of plants struggling for a tenuous foothold. Then he saw it; a tall thin fissure stretching from floor level to at least a foot above his head. His heart began to pound and his breathing rate increased. His dream was to be the man to find the connection. Looking at his watch he realised that he had only fifteen minutes dive time left. He marked the opening's position on the Navimate and made his first rash decision. Holding his torch out in front of him he swam into the narrow opening. At first it was quite easy going then the walls imperceptibly started to close in and soon there was no space in which to turn around. He began to feel uneasy when he noticed that his air bubbles were travelling ahead of him. Surely that meant that there was an opening to the sky somewhere ahead; the other cenote? He threw caution to the wind and swam on.
Suddenly bony fingers slid over his hand and his face came into contact with slimy flesh and hard pointed fangs. Throwing the light in that direction he saw bared teeth in a skull with rags of rotting flesh and fur trailing in its wake. The eye sockets were bare and the body, with arms open, drifted forward to embrace him. Reason deserted him. He instinctively jerked his body away from the hellish apparition. His knuckles hit the wall with such force that it paralysed his hand and he dropped his torch. In abject horror he saw his major life line fall downwards. The light grew ever more indistinct making Alan realise that the passage was now a bottomless pit. Total darkness; the surge of adrenaline sent a wave of heat and prickles from his toe to his crown. In absolute panic he tried to turn around in the confined space to outrun this monstrosity from hell when he became truly wedged. The ghoulish arms caressed him and the head from hell touched his. He wriggled in a frenzied attempt to free himself only to bind himself tighter into his rocky tomb. His breathing became more and more laboured until he realised, with an icy shock that his air supply was running out. Then the miracle occurred. He suddenly became icy calm; his heart rate slowed and cold rational thought prevailed. He took stock of his situation. He could not see or know which way was out but he was still tethered to the main guide line by his own line reel at his waist. All he had to do was find the line and follow it back to its source and the spare oxygen tank tethered to it.
Taking the last breaths of air from his tank he managed to slide the straps from his shoulders and ditch the empty tank. Freed of all encumbrances he managed to turn and grab his life line. Pulling hand over hand and gently letting out air in managed amounts he made his way back to the cenote.
His lungs were burning and he knew he would not make it to the central guide line and the spare tank but the need to survive spurred him on. Crazily a light appeared ahead. Suddenly hands grabbed him and a mouth piece was touching his lips. He opened his mouth and clamped his lips around it. Inhaling deeply his senses returned and he could see his diving buddy Michael. He was buddy breathing with him; sharing his tank of precious air.
They swam to the major guide line where they both took new air tanks and began their slow ascent. Stopping every few feet to rest and decompress.
Alan felt liberated. After his near death experience he vowed that, in future, he would enjoy all that life could throw at him; in future he would do all he could to banish negative thoughts and encourage others to do the same and embrace the life God had given them.
