Seasickness? Hay Naku, You Are Making a Mess on My Boat

I smell it before I see it.

It is a mix of diesel fumes, salt spray, and regret. Then I hear the sound. Huuuurrrgh.

Hay naku. Another one.

Every week it is the same. We have perfect conditions in Batangas. Maybe a little chop. Maybe the Amihan wind is blowing a bit strong. But the water is blue. The fish are waiting. And what are you doing? You are hanging over the side of my banca, feeding your expensive breakfast to the damselfish.

You young divers. You have all the gear. You have the titanium regulator. You have the computer that connects to your satellite phone. You have the split fins (don't get me started on split fins, they are for lazy legs). But you do not have the stomach for the sea.

You think diving is just floating? No. Diving is boats. And boats move.

I have been diving since before PADI invented the Open Water card. I have been on boats in typhoons. I have never puked. Why? Because I respect the ocean and I know how to prepare. You want to stop feeling like a green mango? You listen to Tatay Santiago.

The Magic Pill: You Take It Too Late

I see you on the shore. We are loading the tanks. You are laughing. Taking selfies with your GoPro. You feel strong. You say, "Santiago, the water looks flat, I don't need medicine."

Sus.

Then we get past the breakwater. The boat starts to roll. Left. Right. Up. Down. Your face changes color. You reach into your dry bag and pop a pill.

Useless. It is too late.

The medicine needs time to work. It needs to get into your blood before your inner ear starts fighting with your eyes. You must take the anti-seasickness pill at least 30 minutes before you step on the boat. Even one hour is better.

If you take it when you already feel dizzy, you are just giving the pill a ride to your stomach before you throw it back up.

Some of you bring me ginger candy. Or those wristbands with the plastic button. Okay. Maybe they work for you. But for real ocean chop? You need the medicine. Meclizine or Dimenhydrinate. I don't care about the brand. Just take it early.

And be careful. Some of these pills make you sleepy. You fall asleep on the boat, we wake you up at the dive site, and you are groggy. This is dangerous. You need your brain underwater. Check the label. Get the "non-drowsy" one if you want to remember seeing the turtle.

Breakfast: Do Not Eat The Lechon

I know. Filipino breakfast is the best. Garlic rice (sinangag), fried egg, beef tapa, maybe some vinegar dip. It is heavy. It is oily. It is delicious.

But if you are prone to seasickness, this is poison.

Grease and oil sit in your stomach like a rock. Acidic food, like vinegar or orange juice, makes the acid in your stomach dance. When the boat rocks, that acid splashes. Then you feel the burn. Then you feel the nausea.

What to eat? Eat like a sick person. Dry toast. Crackers. A banana. Bananas are good. They have potassium (good for cramps) and they taste the same coming up as they do going down. Sorry. Too graphic? It is the truth.

And fluids. Drink water. Do not drink coffee. Coffee makes you jittery and acidic.

The biggest enemy is Alcohol. I see you the night before. You are at the resort bar. Having "just one more" San Miguel. Then another. Then shots.

Hay naku. Alcohol dehydrates you. It messes up your inner ear balance before you even touch the water. A hangover on a boat is not a hangover. It is a death sentence for your dignity. You want to drink? Drink after the diving is done. When we are cleaning the gear. Not before.

On The Boat: Position is Everything

So you took the pill. You ate the banana. Now we are on the boat.

Why do you go inside the cabin? Why do you sit down and look at your phone?

This is the number one mistake of the modern diver. You look at a screen. Your eyes say, "We are still. We are reading Instagram." But your ears say, "We are moving! We are rocking!"

Your brain gets confused. It thinks you are hallucinating. It thinks you have been poisoned. So it decides to empty your stomach to save you.

1. Stay Outside You need fresh air. The smell of diesel from the engine? That triggers the sickness fast. Stay where the wind hits your face.

2. Look at the Horizon Find the line where the sky meets the ocean. Stare at it. The horizon does not move. It gives your brain a reference point. It tells your brain, "Yes, we are moving relative to that line." It calms the confusion. Do not look at the boat deck. Do not look at your buddy assembling his gear. Look far away.

3. Sit in the Middle or Back The bow (front) of the boat bounces the most. Up and down. Boom. Boom. It is fun for five minutes. Then it is hell. The stern (back) or the middle is more stable. It is the pivot point. Less movement.

And please. Stop fiddling with your camera. Set it up on land. If you look down to adjust your o-ring or clean your lens while the boat is rocking, you will be sick in ten seconds. I promise you. If you need help, ask me. I will fix your gear. You keep your eyes on the island.

The Waiting Game: Surface Intervals

Sometimes the worst part is not the travel. It is when the boat stops.

We arrive at the dive site. The Captain cuts the engine. Now the boat is not cutting through waves. It is bobbing. Like a cork. Side to side. Rolling.

This is when strong men cry.

If you feel the sickness coming when we stop, do not wait. Get in the water.

The water moves you with it. On the boat, your body fights the movement. In the water, you float. You become part of the wave. The nausea usually disappears the moment you submerge.

But what if you are waiting for pickup? The dive is over. You surface. The boat is far away picking up another group. You are bobbing on the surface.

This is dangerous for sickness.

1. Switch to Snorkel. If the water is calm, take the regulator out. The regulator makes you breathe dry air, makes your mouth dry, and the rubber in your mouth can make you gag. Use your snorkel and breathe fresh air.
2. Look at land. Again, find the horizon. Do not look at the water right in front of your mask.
3. Relax your buoyancy. You must stay positively buoyant, safety first, always. But if you inflate your BCD until it is hard as a rock, you bounce like a balloon on every tiny ripple. Inflate just enough to float comfortably, lean back, and close your eyes if you have to. Let your body move with the swell, not against it.
4. Remove your mask if the sea is calm and you are safe. Sometimes the pressure on the face makes it worse.

The Anecdote of Mr. Fancy Fins

I remember one time, maybe ten years ago. I had a guest. Let's call him Mike. Mike was a big shot. Had the newest gear. Everything matched. Blue fins, blue mask, blue wetsuit. He looked like a smurf.

He told me, "Santiago, I have been on yachts. I don't get seasick."

He ate a full breakfast. Eggs, bacon, sausages. He drank two coffees. We went to Verde Island. The crossing is rough. The current there meets the channel. The waves were confused.

Mike sat inside the cabin to protect his camera from spray. He was looking at his photos.

Halfway there, Mike turns green. Not blue anymore. Green.

He tries to stand up. The boat lurches. He falls. And then... bleh. All over his fancy blue split fins. All over his computer.

When we got to the site, he could not dive. He was too weak. He spent the whole day lying on the floor of the boat, smelling his own mistake.

Don't be like Mike.

A Final Word from Tatay

Listen to me. There is no shame in seasickness. Even old captains get it sometimes if the storm is bad enough.

The shame is in not preparing.

The ocean is powerful. You are small. If you try to fight the ocean with your ego, you will lose. You will spend your expensive dive trip hugging the toilet bowl or feeding the fish.

1. Take the medicine early.
2. Eat light.
3. Look at the horizon.
4. Get in the water fast.

Follow these rules, and you will enjoy the dive. You will see the nudibranchs. You will see the sharks. And your breakfast will stay where it belongs.

Now, go check your air. We leave in ten minutes. And don't forget your weight belt again. Sus.