Nitrogen narcosis is an alteration in consciousness that occurs in scuba divers due to the effect of breathing compressed nitrogen. It is sometimes called “rapture of the deep”, and it comes on slowly; generally at depths of 100 feet or more. It is not a concern for most scuba enthusiasts because there is no need for them to go that deep. All the warm colors and most aquatic action exists just below the surface.
Jerry knew all about nitrogen narcosis and other manifestations of diving physiology. He was a dive master and underwater tour guide living his dream in San Salvador, Bahamas. He was also in between jobs, trying to make ends meet by finding and selling coral.
Black coral was the species Jerry was after and it is illegal to harvest in the Bahamas. It is rare, endangered, slow growing and difficult to obtain because of the depths at which it grows. Those attributes and its beauty contribute to the high prices it generates on the black market. Still, Jerry might never have considered illegal activity as a panacea for his financial problems if he did not know the exact location of a stand of black coral. He had seen it while guiding a group on a wall dive shortly before his employment was disrupted due to lack of business. Now he was about to act on his impulse, and harvest an illegal species.
It was a two man job. Rene owned and captained the boat. He also maintained a presence at the entrance site and provided a ride home. That is how he negotiated a larger percentage than Jerry wanted to provide, and why Jerry was still angry as he sank below the surface.
Neutral buoyancy is relaxing, and the magnified sounds of his breathing was like a mantra. By the time Jerry began his slow descent he was in his zone. Being underwater never ceased to engulf him in a peaceful feeling.
Jerry was slowly descending towards a point where the ocean floor met the Bahamian Rift, where the ancient earth had cracked and split. The vertical wall that stretched straight down for about a quarter of a mile was just coming into sight. It was covered with the irregular shapes of sponges and corals that was a living continuous colony of plants and animals.
Jerry leveled out at 45 feet, where the reef made a gradual descent for another 30 feet before plunging into the abyss. He checked his gauges as he glided over the vast array of stag horn and brain corals, impressive in their habitat but too soft and impermanent for his purposes. His favorite part of any wall dive was hovering over the edge. The way the earth beneath him disappeared made his stomach flip. It was like stepping off a high rise building that was so tall you could not see the bottom.
Jerry maintained a slightly negative buoyancy so his descent was gradual. He re-checked his gauges. Oxygen pressure was not a concern. He did not plan on being underwater long enough to worry about tank pressure. His depth was 105 feet, probably within 30 feet of his destination. It all made sense, which was reassuring. When simple statistics become confusing nitrogen narcosis could be in effect. His underwater flashlight revealed all the color that the ocean water neutralized. It was amazing how much life and color existed at that depth. He shined the light at the area he thought contained the cluster of coral and it was still 25-30 feet down. The bush was larger than he remembered, and it was glowing. The closer he got to it the more it shined. In fact the wall and all the sponges and corals were illuminated. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, and somehow mixed in with the sound of his breathing there were voices, faint, and indecipherable. No. Wait. It was singing, like a heavenly choir. He shined his light downward but it was unnecessary. The ocean was aglow. There could never be anything more wonderful, and his last thought was that he had never in his life been so happy.
(Jim McJunkin has been a photographer for over 50 years and has been involved in a number of art and photography shows around the country. He has work in the permanent collection at the National Vietnam Veterans Art Museum in Chicago, Illinois, and has authored several photography related books. Jim and his wife Beth have lived in Wimberley for 20 years. [email protected])
