Dear Fellow Diver:
Back in the good old days, whenever the weekend weather forecast was favorable,
four of us loaded our dive gear into my single-engine Cessna Turbo 210
and we'd fly to San Carlos, Mexico, Baja's Punta San Francisquito, or sometimes
as far south as Loreto. We'd rent a panga and off we would go: no divemaster,
no ladder and no first aid. If I told you that in those days, we were taught to
follow our bubbles to the surface, and during our surface time we would down a
few beers, would I be dating myself? Dive rules have certainly changed, but what
has this got to do with diving in Colombia?
My December trip offered 21st Century basic diving, but with today's rules,
at a destination prized by Colombians but unknown to Americans. Santa Marta is a
quaint town, located on Colombia's southern Caribbean coast. While it is no place
for divers in search of exotic creatures, it brought back fond memories of laidback
diving in the Sea of Cortez, with its multiple boulders blended with patches
of soft and hard coral. While I saw no dramatic sea life, there were small
schools of batfish, barracuda and squid -- and, unfortunately, an occasional
small lionfish, apparently just getting a "fin-hold" there.
Several hours after arriving at my hotel, Diego Ávila, owner of Quimera
Divers, arrived to meet with us. He shared his marine conservation philosophy
with us, took our dive gear, and said he would send a taxi ($5 each way) to pick
us up at 7:45 a.m. the next morning. Though there are no other operations in
Santa Marta, 13 shops in nearby Tayrona National Park, where we did most of our
diving, carried scores of divers there daily. Santa Marta's ultra-modern marina
is closely guarded with a swinging gate and armed guards. The boat run to the
park was 20 minutes (we were required to wear life jackets to and from the marina).
Sleek looking, the 25-foot, high-sided fiberglass speed boat with two 95-hp
engines had benches on both sides, 20 tank holders in the center and a partial
canopy. Diego, who speaks English well, takes no more than four divers, but even
that would be a crowd. He offered two morning dives ($95 per person); afternoon
must be siesta time.
At Calichan Isla Aguja, the sandy bottom was surrounded by a fringing reef.
During this Colombian version of a muck
dive, I spotted a small frogfish, a redlipped
batfish and a "red robin," or small
red flying gurnard, not to mention beautiful
flamingo tongues, snake and tiger
eels, lobsters, sergeant majors, batfish
(you don't see these all the time), filefish,
arrow crabs, lobster, a seahorse and
other Caribbean characters. At El Cantil
de Granate, we descended down a 60-foot
healthy wall, where I watched a school of
sardines in a swim-through so small, my
tank banged the ceiling. On one dive, I watched Anhini dig into the sand. Up popped a snake eel, which slithered to another
spot where he buried himself, tail
first. After the dives, I would take
off my gear in the water and climb the
narrow ladder. Diego and Anhini, both
in their 20s or early 30s, kicked up
and over the six-foot side.
Granate is Tayrona National Park's
first bay, which is protected from the
winter's northwesterly trade winds. We
had at least 50 feet of visibility in
the 77-degree water. Between dives,
we went to a beach and climbed to the
ramada of a private home to relax.
Diego brought homemade cookies and mangoes.
He showed me how to squeeze the
mango to soften it, then bite off the
tip to suck out the sweet pulp and
juice. He brought water in handy sixounce
plastic bags.
Truth is, I was perhaps more attracted to the charming town of Santa Marta
than I was to the diving. A couple of decades ago, it was infamous for its
fields of "Colombia Gold," the finest marijuana, but Mexico is now home of the
drug cartels, and Colombia's guerrillas are no longer an issue. So backpackers
arrived, now tourists are trickling in and Colombia is becoming a hot new destination,
especially for foodies.
I stayed at Casa Verde, a fine old 1920s colonial mansion, with six rooms
and a tropical shaded courtyard where guests can lounge on hammocks or take a
dip in a small plunge pool. Located in Santa Marta's historical district, it's
close to excellent restaurants, nightlife, parks, cathedrals, and the Caribbean
is within walking distance. My second-floor room was simple, with a view of the
cathedral, which only chimed on Sunday, but then for most of that day. A colorful
hammock hung on my wraparound balcony. The pebble-tiled bathroom had a large
walk-in shower with low-pressure hot water. The AC was either too warm or cold.
No matter. The staff was friendly and the price was right ($125 a night for two,
with breakfast). The front
door, like other streetside
inns, was barred
with a tastefully decorated,
wrought-iron gate
that remained locked with
a padlocked chain, but
I never felt unsafe anywhere
we walked. Santa
Marta doesn't have a level
step on any of its rundown
streets, yet the architecture
and warmness of the
residents make it charming.
Many restaurants surround
Plaza de los Novios
(Lovers), serving primarily
fish (robalo, or snook,
was popular), seafood and
beef, all excellently prepared.
My favorite dish
was ajiaco, a soup brimming
with shredded chicken,
corn on the cob, golden and red potatoes, with capers, heavy
cream and avocado to mix in. While someone
at each hotel speaks English, you'll
be pointing your finger at the menus if
you don't know a little Spanish.
To summarize the diving, most of
the terrain appeared similar, though
on different dives we might do a wall,
swim-through or bottom dive. While
there was the Caribbean variety of fish
and critters, none was in great abundance
and there were no surprises. The
one unique dive was on a small cargo
ship intentionally sunk at 100 feet and
protruding 30 feet above the surface.
Safety-conscience Diego ran a line to
the ship's bow and also hung a tank at
15 feet. Descending at 7 a.m., there was
no current. While the boat has no defining
features, coral is just beginning to
cover it, and it was teeming with schools of small grunts.
While I was exploring with Diego, my spouse flooded his mask on his first
dive. He panicked, lost his regulator, and started to bolt to the surface.
Anhini was on him in a flash, put his regulator back in his mouth, and took him
gradually to the surface. After that, he snorkeled, and stopped giving me grief
for lugging my own dive gear.
I admit to being a spoiled diver, with plenty of logged dives in the Indo-
Pacific. Yet I enjoyed every minute of this very basic diving with Quimera
Divers. It was not easy to book this trip, and my ability to speak Spanish was
very helpful. Using a travel agent would be much easier.
-- N.M.
Diver's Compass: Getting to Santa Maria requires a plane change
in Bogata, and both Copa and Avianca, code share airlines with
United, fly the 90-minute leg there; we also flew to Cartagena,
which was jammed with cruise ship passengers . . . Unless you
are eager to see Simon Bolivar's resting place, visit the coffeegrowing
village of Minca or go trekking in the mountains, there
is nothing to do in Santa Marta but merge into the culture . . .
Crazy northwesterly trade winds whip down the Sierra Nevadas from
December to mid-February . . . Ironically, Diego asked us to bring
medical permission from our physicians but never looked at our certification
cards . . . The closest hyperbaric chamber is on San Andrés Island, requiring an
air flight . . . I used pesos rather than credit cards, and stopped frequently
at ATMs . . . Websites: Quimera Divers -- www.quimeradivers.com ; Casa Verde - www.casaverdesantamarta.com