We plunge underwater to observe habits of juvenile Zalophus californianus. Or, in the words of Ivan, our dive master extraordinaire, to play with youngsters. And play is what we try to do. The result is, to be honest, that we are being played with. Sea lions treat us as clumsy companions who cannot swim fast enough and have to be jolted into action by deftly applied bites. We develop various techniques to keep them from nibbling on our wet-suited bodies. It's a good thing they seem to have preference for yellow, which means that our snorkels, fins and secondary regulators are in greater danger than our fingers.

Playing with sea lion

Pinniped equivalents of unruly teenagers are not as dangerous as their parents intent on guarding their territory against humans. When we drop the anchor close to an islet that sea lions inhabit they start barking at us in unison. We don't get scared when aboard a boat but underwater is a different matter altogether. When an adult male decides to defend a narrow canyon we obediently turn away from his bared teeth and swim away.

Sea lions are not the only animals we get to swim with, although they are by far the most playful. We obtain a permission to visit El Mogote, a site of Rhincodon typus nursery and snorkel along giant dot-patterned animals. As appropriate for the nursery inhabitants whale sharks that we see are just babies. But they do feel giant tous already.

Snorkeling with whale shark

As instructed, we try to keep our distance and stay slightly behind following gentle beasts. Our fins help, but it still takes some stamina to keep up. We are grateful that from time to time they stop and feed basking in their spotted glory. Horror stories aside these sharks seem to be totally uninterested in humans and schools of fish swimming around. But every time we break unwritten pact by crossing the undrawn boundary they just dive and disappear in murky water leaving us awkwardly bobbing on the surface.

Snorkeling with whale sharks is a complete opposition of diving with Sphyrna lewini. Where the former is shallow and relaxing, the latter is deep and adrenaline-rushing. Hammerheads of El Bajo dwell slightly beyond our no-decompression limits. We mostly see silhouettes in the hazy blue water. Their inexplicable shapes evoke surrealistic paintings. On ascent we half expect giant wilted clocks or a man with a bird cage in place of a head. Or maybe it's just a diver's high talking.

Diving with hammerhead shark (by Nathalie Dubourvieux Rommel)

There is yet another large animal in those waters. Not particularly graceful or well suited for marine environment. Blowing bubbles and scraping corral with fins. Differently from sea lions Homo sapiens can be approached out of water, so we can continue our observations onboard. What humans lack in adaptation they more than make up to in gadgetry. Fins, snorkels, scuba vests, lamps, noise makers, inflatable tubes even the post dive ear driers amount to an astounding display. Social interactions are amazing. Complicated choreography of languages, political views, religious spectrums and economical backgrounds awakens our inner anthropologists.

Slowly the initial confusion diminishes and our small troupe sorts itself into grouplets. While sea lions bark to protect their lounging spot, humans use language to designate French and Spanish dining tables. Our French is long forgotten, but our Spanish is non existent so we end up taking our meals with francophones. As socialization progresses we begin to interject French phrases in our daily conversation. Thankfully we are back to dry land before Damian starts calling our humble vessel: zee boat. Well, I guess it's better than barking, n'est-ce pas?

You don a full body wetsuit, the thickest you can find. A hood, thick neoprene gloves, booties. You go in, shiver for half an hour and come back up to pour hot water into your suit to warm yourself up. If you see more then two body-lengths you consider the visibility outstanding.

There is a fierce competition to use Florida springs: divers, children, manatees, tourists, alligators. Most springs we visit are part of extensive and well managed Florida state park system. Looks like no income tax policy here does not automatically translate into no public services.

It feels good to stay away from the ocean for a brief moment. The comfort of walking straight, of taking shower without being periodically thrown into the stall. Even a small comfort of pissing while standing up.

The trip on M/V Spree starts with captain's briefing with huge helpings of bodily functions humor. I can't deny it is a serious concern with almost 30 people having to relive themselves, not always voluntarily, in cramped quarters. The proper technique of fluffing trash bags, the acceptable length of the toilet paper, the problem of toilet mice (don't ask), the art of pumping and flushing are discussed at length.

We are preparing for boarding M/V Spree to go to the Dry Tortugas Ecological Reserve. We did couple of multiday sailing trips before, but we haven't done liveaboard yet and have only a faint idea what to expect. I hope that three days of Internet withdrawal will be the greatest challenge. But if you don't hear from us by the end of the month, you can start mounting a rescue expedition.

I may never have a chance to go to another planet. But going 20 meters under water surface is the next best thing.

If wrecks and reefs and fish don't make your diving exciting enough there are always gadgets: knife, torch, safety sausage (really) and the biggest toy of all: underwater scooter. Which of course is not a scooter but a diver propulsion vehicle or, in PADI speak, DPV. By the way, diving argot is full of acronyms. Starting from SCUBA of course, which stands for Self Contained Underwater Breathing Apparatus, through BCD, BWRAF, CESA, DAN, DIR, PADI and VENTID. Pretty much each and every word is an acronym for something else. No wonder computer geeks were left with GNU.

We are officially contagious. We passed our scuba habit on to our unsuspecting friends.

Night invites storytelling. On the way to the dive site everybody seems to have something scary to share: divers left on the reef for the night by a careless operator, giant shark skulking in the shadows, losing one's bearings simply by swimming upside down (watch the bubbles! says the captain). The stories get taller as the sun sinks closer to the horizon.

We all want to be cool. And obviously I am not talking about surviving the scorching weather outside: finally a place where mere walking is a taxing exercise.

This is what we came to Key Largo to do: scuba diving. Possibly the last chance to do so courtesy of BP.