The Young and The Restless | Astronauts in the ocean

She spoke quickly and in monotone.

I suspected she’d run through these instructions to a hundred tourists every day for many days; perhaps even years.

A script she could read in her sleep was, from our perspective, a lot to take in at once.

There was no time for Q&A at the end.

We were ushered quickly on to a boat that would take us to a coral reef just a couple of hundred metres out to sea with four other people.

When we got to the pontoon, we realised the operators there didn’t speak any English, and all of a sudden the briefing on land made sense.

But it gave no opportunity to ask for reiteration or reassurance.

A stylish young American couple sporting dreadlocks (him) and African braids (her) had bravely volunteered to be the first two to submerge.

However, as the woman lowered herself to shoulder height, she freaked out and quickly re-emerged, flustered and adamant she would not try again.

Her partner followed in her footsteps, bailing the second his head went under water.

The woman begged him to try again, pleading with him that, “At least one of us has to do it so it’s not a complete waste of money.”

So, he took a deep breath and tried again, but could not close the deal.

I had earlier been grateful they had offered to lead the way, but their hasty and panicked resurfacing instilled a greater nervousness in me and my son, as we questioned whether we would be able to see it through.

Perhaps we should have just put our hands up to go first.

My son urged me to go before him, but I was concerned he still might not follow if I did — and then I wouldn’t be on deck to encourage him to leave his comfort zone.

I didn’t want fear to hold him back from an activity it was unlikely we would die doing.

And I knew that if he went first and that if I freaked out, I would still push through no matter what, because I wouldn’t desert him like that.

He moved nervously down the steps and then he was gone.

Both proud of him and terrified for him, I stepped up for my turn.

One diver was in the water, waiting to retrieve me from the steps that led to the ocean floor, while another operator stood above me on the pontoon, holding the helmet above me, ready to place it on my shoulders as soon as my head entered the water.

If a 30kg helmet was put on you out of the water, I’m pretty sure it would end badly.

In the water, however, it becomes much lighter.

Heavy enough to hold you down, but light enough to push off with both hands should you get into trouble down there.

What I didn’t realise about sea-walking is that the helmet isn’t air-tight.

It’s open at the base and water bobs up around your chin, getting higher depending on how deeply you take each breath.

We had to keep one hand on the helmet at all times to hold it down and stop it from falling backwards or forwards.

For the same reason, we had been instructed not to look up or down, and to turn our entire bodies if we wanted to look to the sides.

There was a strong current that day, so we had to use our spare hand to keep hold of the railing that’s been built next to the coral reef for this experience.

After the nerves settled and our breathing evened out, we were able to enjoy the serenity of the depths (only about 4.5m).

The fish are seemingly the only thing moving at normal pace under water.

Everything else feels like it’s in slow motion; our astronaut-like movement, the gently swaying anemone, the bubbles escaping from our airlines.

Our welcome diver and another swam around us, carefully checking that we were okay and photographing us for (included) take-home images and videos.

People argue that activities like this destroy the ocean, but we walked on a dedicated, well-established path, not at all disturbing the reef itself.

I saw more damage being done to the reefs that were just off the island’s shore where people were freely snorkelling and returning to the beach with bits of coral they’d snapped off for souvenirs.

The water was deliciously warm and teeming with tropical fish.

Finding Nemos (and Dorys), and many of their colourful aquatic friends, was not a problem.

It was simply beautiful down there.

While the sea-walk only lasted about 10 minutes, the illusion that everything had slowed down, including time, had made it feel longer.

Probably that, and a heavy helmet coupled with the heightened anxiety we’d experienced earlier, had us satisfied that it was enough.

We were back on land just half an hour after leaving the speed-talking instructor on the beach, with another amazing memory in the bank.

Sappy saying? Sure. Sapi Island? Most definitely.