Monday morning was the day for our scheduled dive with Hartley's Helmet Dives. Joe, Lois, and Becky E. had booked an excursion through Norwegian for a bus tour of the island. After breakfast I went down and waited on the wharf for Becky C. and James. While I was waiting, the ship had a lifeboat drill for the crew, which I was able to see from the dock. It is always a little disconcerting to see the crew standing on the deck in their life jackets . . .
I also observed 4 college age girls who had just gotten off the ship, who were all yelling and screaming at each other. Apparently their cruise was not going well.
When Becky C. and James came down, we went back to the Bermuda Craft Market, where they picked up some things, and I bought some postcards. Then we walked through an area of the Naval Dock Yards known as the Victualling Yard, where food was packaged and stored for the Naval Fleet. On the other side of that, I spied a pharmacy, and so we went in, and I was a last able to buy a pair of ear plugs (though I had managed to sleep quite well without them the previous night). I got a couple of Bermuda quarters with my change, which I showed to Becky. She turned green with envy. When she bought something there, she got US quarters, so she asked for Bermuda quarters, then asked for an assortment of other Bermuda coins as well.
We then went over to the old Clock Tower building which is now a small shopping mall. We walked around there for a while. I found a store that sold t-shirts that said "Lost In The Bermuda Triangle". Becky and I each bought one. I was surprised not to see more souvenirs pertaining to the triangle, which is something I find fascinating. Maybe Bermuda doesn't think it wise to promote something supposedly responsible of the disappearance of ships and planes, as I didn't see a lot of Bermuda Triangle merchandise for sale. Personally I think it would be a big seller!
From the mall we walked up the road a little further til we came to the old Casemate Barracks, which was built as an Army Barracks in the 1800's and then as a prison up until the 1990's. It is now empty and abandoned.
The road beyond here did not look too pedestrian friendly (no sidewalks, and the road was VERY narrow!), so we turned back.
We stopped at a little convenience store, where Becky and James got something to drink. Outside was a lovely hammock, which I climbed into for a few pictures. It was very comfortable, and I probably could have spent a few hours relaxing right there!
We went back to the mall where I got a Cookies & Cream Shake at Hagen-Dazs. It was pretty expensive, but delicious and very refreshing. It was very hot outside, and the shake really hit the spot and was worth every penny.
We went over to the Visitor's Center and bought Bus & Ferry passes for our planned trip the following day. Next to the center, was a gazebo type structure, which seemed to provide pretty much the only nearby shade. We had a while to wait before meeting up for the dive, so we sat in the gazebo. Several of the other people in the gazebo seemed to be locals, maybe waiting for the bus. One man seemed to be working there, but I wasn't sure exactly what his job was; he might have been with the bus company, or some tour agency. He was quite lively, and very outspoken, and everyone seemed to know him. At one point he tried to auction off one of the local woman who was waiting there, who did not seem terribly amused. A little later he started talking about some gay Filipino who had had come up to him recently and asked for info; judging from the large number of Filipinos working on the Norwegian Dawn, I suspect it might have been one of our crew. He did a rather offensive, lispy imitation of him: "Can you tell me where the FERRY is?" On a scale, it was far from the worst homophobic remarks I've ever heard, but it was still offensive. The woman he had tried to auction off spoke up and told him firmly to stop it. He defended himself by saying it was true, and he could say whatever he wanted to as long as it was true. She didn't say anymore, but I could tell she was disgusted, and I admired her for speaking up.
Finally it was time to head over to the Moongate where we were supposed to meet the boat for the Helmet Dive. (Moongates are round stone archways found all over Bermuda. Couples who kiss under them are supposed to be blessed with happiness and prosperity. Whatever . . .)
We waited only a short time before the boat arrived.
Greg Hartley welcomed us aboard, and introduced us to the boat's pilot (who we later learned was his son,) and another crewman. The second crewman immediately noticed the pendant I was wearing around my neck, a miniature brass replica of an old diving helmet. I had picked this up just the week before at the Great International Steampunk Exhibition in Fitchburg.
As we would learn later, Greg Hartley's father made his first diving helmet when he was just 10 years old, and started the company in the 1950's. He sold it some time in the 90's, and Greg later started his own company to compete with the man who had bought the business from his father. (Not sure why the father didn't just give or sell it to his son, but I suspect there is a story there somewhere . . . ).
In the 1960's my parents visited Bermuda to attend an Esso
Greg Hartley is an interesting man. I really can't describe him adequately. He is very enthusiastic; his personality bordered on annoying, in that sort of summer camp leader or youth pastor kind of way. Very crunchy granola. And very ADHD. He chattered almost non-stop, and while he was certainly very knowledgeable about sea life, it was sometimes hard to follow the thread of what he was saying. He also seemed to be a little disorganized. There was more confusion than there needed to be in the distribution and collection of the medical and release forms that we all had to sign. And the excursion had somehow been overbooked by a few people. A family that had been told they were on "standby" apparently got on the boat anyway, and another group added another diver at the last minute (there was the option of going out on the boat but NOT actually diving, and this person switched from "rider" to "diver"). The dive is set up to accommodate only 32 people and he ended up with 33, which took awhile to straighten out. In the end, one of the "standby" people agreed to just go along for the ride, and not dive.
One of the other "riders" was an elderly lady who was with her family. While the lower deck of the boat was mostly enclosed and shielded from the sun, it was still very hot, and she did not deal well with the heat. We were out on the water for a good five hours if not longer, and it was a pretty grueling day for her. I felt bad and was a little worried about her. She did not do a great deal of complaining that I heard, but once when her daughter was moving a chair closer to the open window for her, Becky heard her say of her mother "She's such a whiner!" About the only "whining" I heard from her was the comment "If I'd known it was going to be this hot, I wouldn't have come. I don't know why I did come, it wasn't a requirement, was it?"
I am surprised Greg Hartley even let her on the boat. When I was looking for information on line, I came across a news article about a woman who had died back in June while on one of his excursions. Apparently she suffered a heart after coming up from the dive. Interestingly, he made a passing reference to this incident when he said something about "Cruise ships sending me passengers with heart disease", as if it was somehow the cruise line's fault. Also interesting is the fact that the lines rather suddenly stopped using his company as an excursion. It was listed as an excursion several months ago when we started looking into the cruse, but then later was not on the NCL website. Joe, who attended an informational meeting on excursions here on the ship, said it still appears in their excursion video. When he asked at the excursion desk why it was no longer offered, he was told it might have something to do with "contract negotiations. In any case, I would have thought he would have been a little more careful about letting an elderly passenger on his boat, even if she was only a "rider"!
We were all crammed in pretty tightly, either sitting on the benches along the sides or in plastic chairs set up in the middle of the boat. As I said, it was pretty hot, though the open windows did provide a bit of a breeze. We were allowed to go up on the top deck where there would have been more of a breeze, but there was no shade there at all, so I stayed below. There were two large containers of beverages in the back of the boat, one contained a Black Currant drink made with cane sugar that tasted pretty good - not as sicky sweet as a lot of fruit punches. The other contained Bermuda rain water. The roofs of all the homes in Bermuda are made from limestone, and are designed to collect rain water for drinking, and other uses. It doesn't have any chemicals in it, and it tasted pretty good. There was also a box of crunchy granola bars for .75 cents each, but I never got quite that hungry. As I said Greg himself struck me as being a little crunchy granola, so the fact that he had these on the boat was not too surprising . . .
After we were under way, Greg started the business part of the trip - each group had to pay for the excursion, and extra if they wanted him to take pictures of them under water. When I went up to pay for ours, the card I had used to reserve the dive was declined, a fact he announced to the whole boat. I gave him a second card and that went through with no problem.
Then we went through the orientation process. For this part he made the ones who were not diving leave the cabin, meaning that the poor elderly woman had to go sit out in the sun, which again I didn't think was the wisest move on his part, especially in light of the recent death. I really don't know why they had to leave, unless he was afraid they would be a distraction. He spent a good deal of time going over the different fishes and sea life that we would see. Some of the larger fish are his stars - regulars who stay in the area and are trained and friendly. He did warn us that there were a couple fish who might bite, though I was never quite sure what he meant by "bite" - whether he was talking about a gentle little nibble or severed fingers was unclear. He did mention one fish that was attracted to shiny jewelry and had quite a powerful grip. He showed us his wedding ring that had been bent during one encounter. He said if you saw it coming at you - and its intent would be fairly obvious by the focus on his eyes - you should just put your open hand in his face and push him away. If he did latch onto you, he would eventually figure out you weren't edible and release his grip. One passenger asked what we should do if we saw a shark. In his typical crunchy granola fashion, Greg responded: "Celebrate!". He said seeing one would be a great indicator of a healthy eco-system, but that there were none in these waters. Actually, I would have been thrilled to see one, provided it was not too hungry . . .
About half way out we stopped briefly at a coral reef. It was all submerged, but we could make it out in the clear blue water.
Shortly after that we reached the dive spot. There were only enough helmets to take people down in groups of eight, which meant that everyone would spend around an hour and a half just sitting and waiting. Our group was last, which was fine with me. I preferred that to going first and then having to just wait around with nothing to look forward to.
While we waited, I wrote out several postcards that I had brought with me. Others visited, or went up on the top deck and lay in the sun. Greg's son opened a panel that revealed a small glass bottom section of the boat, and we could watch fish swimming around through that if we chose to. Overall, waiting around was not terribly exciting, and why anyone would have come along just as a "rider" is beyond me. After all, as the elderly woman had pointed out, it wasn't required.
We watched the groups go down one by one, and when they came up everyone seemed happy and thrilled by the experience. No one came up early, or seemed freaked out. Some did complain a little about ear pressure, which we had been warned about, but it was not enough to spoil the experience for anyone.
At one point while one of the groups were down, someone noticed something floating on the surface of the water. It turned out to be a driver's license. Greg's son had a long pole with a net on the end, but it was out of his reach, so one of the women passengers heroically dived in and retrieved it. When the group came back up, the man to whom it belonged didn't even know he had lost it. His wife asked "Where did you have it?" He said "In my pocket", and reached into his pocket and pulled out a credit card and one or two other cards to make sure he wasn't missing anything else. His wife looked at him in disbelief and said "Who the #$%@ goes underwater with their ID and credit cards in their pocket?"
Our youngest passenger was a little boy of around 6 or 7. He had watched his father paying Greg with cash, and at one point while we were waiting, he said "Daddy, you seem to have a lot of hundreds in your wallet!" I don't think Daddy appreciated him announcing this to the whole boat, especially since he would soon be going under water and leaving his wallet stuffed with hundreds on the boat with a bunch of strangers. The little boy was the only one that Greg had wear a wet suit, everyone else just went in in their bathing suits. Greg and the crewman who went down with him to assist also wore wet suits, as they were down there over two hours.
One couple asked us to take pictures with their cameras as they were having the helmets put on and going into the water, so when it finally came our turn, the man took pictures for us in return. Becky and James went in first, and then it was my turn. I descended a ladder until I was about shoulder deep in the water and then stopped and waited until Greg's son lowered the helmet down over my head. Before each use, he rinsed out the helmets with a fluid which I assume was some kind of disinfectant.
The helmet was VERY heavy on my shoulders, but once I was under the water, it was just fine. Greg was right there to help me down the ladder (we were about 12 feet below the surface), and once under water he led me over to where the others were all holding onto a long plastic bar. I was next to Becky, and two or three other people came onto my other side. When we were not moving, we all knelt in the sand. I was aware of pressure in my ears from time to time, but it was not constant, and didn't really bother me. There was a little water in the helmet, that came up to my chin, but never higher than that. I discovered that when I inhaled the water level would rise slightly, and when I exhaled forcefully, I could hear a great rush of bubbles escape out from the back of the helmet. It was rather entertaining. Prior to the beginning of the dive, Greg had shown us pictures of someone who had taken a little dog down inside their helmet, and someone else who had put a CAT in their helmet with them. I wouldn't do that unless I knew the cat was completely declawed . . . and heavily sedated!
There was a slight magnification to the glass in the helmet so everything appeared closer and larger than it actually was. Greg and the crewman assisting him looked very tall, and in their helmets and black wet suits, they took on an eerie, surreal, otherworldly appearance.
Once we were all assembled underwater, Greg led each group over to a rock formation and took pictures. He had told us on the boat that we could reach up under the helmets if we needed to for any reason - to adjust glasses or to hold our nose and blow to release the pressure in our ears. One of the women was wearing glasses, and when he took her pictures, he reached up under her helmet and took off her glasses for the photos.
When it was our turn, Greg led James, Becky, and myself over to the have our pictures taken. One of his "stars" joined us for the photo shoot, a fish that was very friendly and well trained. Greg would position our hands, and using food and hand signals he was able to get the fish to swim through our hands, allowing us to "hold" it long enough to take a picture. This sometimes took a few attempts, but he kept at it until he got a picture that he was satisfied with. I was amazed that a fish would have that level of intelligence to be trained in that way.
After taking everyone's pictures, Greg led us around the ocean floor by a rope that was attached to the pole that we were all holding on to. He pointed out a wide variety of fish and sea life, and let us touch and pet many of them. He talked to us, but of course we couldn't hear, and though I could make out some of what he was saying by reading his lips, I know I missed a lot of it. His primary means of communication were "message sticks", square sticks about a foot or so long with labels with various words or phrases along the sides. He would point to certain words to let us know what we were looking at, and was quite adept at flipping and twirling the sticks around underwater, almost like they were batons. He pointed out a fish that he had told us about on the boat, one that had been friendly and tame, but after an near death experience getting caught on a fisherman's hook, he is now very skittish. He still comes close, but won't let anyone touch him. Greg pointed to two words on his stick just for this fish: "TRUST DESTROYED". Greg had made a few comments on the boat that he was very anti-fishing, and I suspect he may have been a vegetarian. James heard him having a conversation with one lady that led him to believe he may have been Buddhist.
After about a 30 to 45 minutes, it was time to go back up. He led us over to the ladder, which did not reach quite all the way to the ground, so we had to jump and pull ourselves up a little ways until our feet touched the bottom rung, and then were able to climb the rest of the way. Once we broke the surface, the helmet again became surprisingly heavy, but Greg's son was right there to lift it off our heads. All of us enjoyed the experience immensely. Becky had probably been the most nervous about doing it, but was very glad she had overcome her fears and done it. It was certainly a very unique experience for all of us.
After everyone was back on board, we headed back to land. We had had met the boat at 1:00 PM, and it was supposed to be a three hour excursion, but it was well after 5:00 by the time we reached the dock. One woman had to call a restaurant to reschedule dinner reservations when it became obvious we were going to be later than expected. There was a young, pretty, teenage girl on the boat, and as we were disembarking, I heard Greg ask her if she had understood what he had been trying to tell her under the water; she hadn't. Apparently, when taking her family's picture she had been embarrassed at having to hold her brother's had. Greg said: "I was telling you that no other man in your life will ever look at you or treat you the way your father and brother do. They are the only men who will treat you the way you deserve to be treated." Greg's son cringed and was obviously quite embarrassed by this. I had the feeling it was not the first time he had heard his father say this. (Below: Greg Hartley in the white shirt, and his son in the blue. In the middle is the little boy whose daddy had a wallet full of hundreds . . .)
Once ashore, we headed straight back to our ship. No sooner had we got to our cabin than I realized I couldn't find the disc of photos of our dive that I had bought. I had set my things down on the way to the ship to fish my passport and ship card out of my bag, and was afraid the disc had fallen out then. James and Becky had both bought discs too, and it would have been easy enough to copy, but I was still unhappy about losing it - more so over the losing than over what was lost, as I am always very vigilant about carefully looking to make sure I have left nothing behind. Shortly after we got back Joe came into the room and found a shopping bag on his bed. It was another bag I had had with me, and the disc was in it. I didn't even remember taking it out of my bigger bag when I got back to the cabin, but I was glad to find the disc - as well as the other items in the bag which I had not yet missed!
Joe, Lois, and Becky E. had had an enjoyable day on their bus tour. They had traveled pretty much from one end of Bermuda to the other, and seen many interesting things. They had seen (but not climbed) the Gibbs Hill Lighthouse, and even got to see a Dunking Stool IN ACTION!!! I was most jealous of that. The three of them wanted to go ride the little train trolley, and then go to some sort of festival near the wharf they had learned about on their tour. The ship's Chocolate Buffet was that night from 7:30 to 10:30, and I didn't want to miss that, so James, Becky C., and myself decided to have stay and have dinner on the ship. Lois sounded like she wanted to go to the Chocolate Buffet too, but it was unclear if they would be back in time.
The three of us decided on the Venetian. We set out for that, and while we were waiting in line, we noticed that the dress code specified women could not wear shorts above the knees in the dining room. Becky was wearing shorts, but I wasn't too sure how strictly the dress code was enforced, so we decided to try to get in anyway. When we reached the hostess, she politely told Becky that they had a dress code, and shorts were not allowed, but that we could go to the Aqua and be seated there. I have to say I was little put off by this; there were too girls wearing dresses that were so short they barely covered their crotches (and I am not exaggerating when I say that!), and it appeared they were going to be allowed in. In my opinion they were more distastefully dressed than Becky by far, which just goes to show that style often has no class . . .
But we said nothing, and we went to the Aqua and had a good meal there. Becky and I both got the potato gnocchi which was very good. Becky had never had gnocchi before, and liked it a lot. After we ate, we returned to our cabins to wait a bit to see if the others would be back in time to make it to the Chocolate Buffet. They did return shortly, but Joe and Becky E. didn't want to go, so it was just Lois, James, Becky C. and myself who went.
I've been on four cruises to date, three of which had chocolate buffets. The first was the Alaskan cruise on Royal Caribbean, and I have to say theirs was by far the most impressive. All the other cruises have been on NCL; the Hawaiian Cruise didn't have a chocolate buffet (or if they did I somehow missed it . . . which I do not think is possible!). Last year's Caribbean cruise had one that was fairly impressive, but not as much as the one on Royal Caribbean. And the one on this cruise was definitely the least impressive of them all. The desserts themselves were certainly wonderful and nothing to complain about, but as far as the decorations and sculptures made out of chocolate and other food, it was a little uninspiring. It was the first one the others had been too, so they had nothing to compare it to, and we all found more than enough to eat.
I think my favorite sculpture was probably one of the smallest and one I wouldn't have even seen if I hadn't heard someone else pointing it out. In the corner of one of the serving dishes was a little chocolate mouse peeking over the edge of some chocolate cake.
