Return to Echizen

 

The sea is calm today. Small K-trucks whip by along the coastal highway on this clear day, just approaching noon. We park along this remote stretch of road and prepare our gear. I strap my BCD to the cylinder, fasten the regulator to the SCUBA tank valve and turn on my air. Full tank. I strap in my cameras, writing slates, and other data collection gear. Good to go. We walk down to the cliffs where there are a set of crumbling stairs leading down to the cove. It looks steep and dangerous, but my professor assures me it is safe. The surf is decent, but nothing compared to stormy winter days in California. The water is a deep blue, almost transparent near the shore. I can already see small schools of black and white fish near the cliffside.
“Daijobudesuka?” he asks.
“Hai, ikimasho”.
This part of Japan has few divers willing to brave the crystal blue. Even fewer of these divers are scientists studying the local flora and fauna under the surface. I arrived in Japan two years ago, just as the country opened up after the rona. My professor needed another diver and master’s student in his lab. I had never lived in another country before, much less speak Japanese. He assured me it would be fine, and that my diving and English will be an asset to him and his colleagues. I didn’t put much thought into it other than how insane it was. Imagine the stories I would have by traveling to the other side of the pacific for my degree, studying the marine environment while diving on a weekly basis. It was crazy hypothetical at first, but this kook is stubborn.
As I roll into the water and start to breathe through my mouthpiece, the colors explode around me. The surge keeps me tumbling around as we make our way offshore into deeper, calmer waters. I see schools of damsel fish, groups of squid near the surface, clumps of algae growing in the sunny spots, and the occasional new species I had yet not seen. Snapping pictures and recording video, I log away these new species for later edification. Soon, a large stingray, almost meter long wingspan, passes us by, checking us out while we survey along our course. We eventually come to the edge of the reef, where the bottom flattens out and the current picks up. It becomes difficult to swim against the current, but my father’s old rubber fins hadn’t failed me yet. We fight this current and collect our samples before making the return swim back. Unfortunately, we got lost along the return, popping up in the wrong inlet.
“I’m pretty sure it’s the next cove over” I yell out.
“Yes, I think that’s correct.”
With our tanks running low, we swim along the surface round the jagged rockface. White caps splash into my face, and we slowly drag our gear along. Finally, we see the stairs in the distance and duck down for a last little bit of time underwater. While this is essentially my professor’s job, he always likes to run each tank dry. It is here I get surrounded by the black and white fish from earlier. I recall the Japanese name: Ishidai. Always a curious fish that doesn’t shy away from divers. They make a couple passes by the two of us and continue on their path back out to sea. By now our tanks are just about empty so we surface and scale the gnarly stairs back to the car. After a quick nap in the back seat, we are nearing the port town where our laboratory is located. Back at the lab we unload and wash our gear, upload our pictures and videos, and digitize our written notes. It was a good day, but I’m famished.
As I rode my bike back home, I noticed the bright red paper lantern of my favorite izakaya lit up. Smelling the grilled chicken skewers from outside, I decided to poke my head in. Greeted by the familiar “Irasshaimase… Oh, Hunter-san! Welcome. How was diving today?” I sit down at the bar and order my typical gin and tonic with my skewers of chicken hearts and gizzards. I eat casually as I converse with the chef, staff, and even locals sitting next to me. It is always interesting to explain my purpose to locals here. Aside from military and English teachers, few foreigners live in this small rural town. Satisfied both in my stomach and in my heart, I can only think about how living in Japan was such a daunting idea. However, just like the cliffs, once I scaled down, I got to experience beauty few others might see. How lucky am I?


Songs: Absolutely by TMCT
Proud of you (feat. Alicks) by A L E X