DIVE DAY TWO: DAUIN SOUTH HOSPITALITY AND A PAIR AT THE PIER

Dauin South

We hit the southern part of this big reef near the resort this morning, which is another spot inside the protected sanctuary and got our first glimpse of what happens when the coral is protected and allowed to flourish: hard corals in pristine condition, with sharp definitive features and sharp, crisp colors.

This site is a sandy slope with a grassy area and the dive plan, like others we've done, involves making a loop back to the bangka, which today is Taks. Normally, all divers are assigned numbers, guides and sites in their groups, which is selected by dive shop personnel and written up on a whiteboard each morning. But I decided to make a switch, after seeing that I was assigned to Dauin North. I didn't want to immediately go back to where I'd been, so, no worries, I chose Dauin South.

We approached a mooring buoy at 10 feet, then descended and traversed the site, seeing hard, terrace-like coral structures where small tropicals pecked around for nutrients. There is absolutely no shortage of fish here -- another great benefit of reef protection. Besides clownfish, which are becoming, affectionately "the usual suspects" on diving in this part of the region, there were plenty of characteristic bright blue sea stars, with their long, spindly arms and tiny white spots. Finding the nudibranch -- tiny, delicate creatures with complex stripings and marking -- here was a special treat, but would be far from the last one we'd see.

Dive Buddies: Rick, Jim, Mike
Dive Guide: Wennie
Max depth: 56 feet
Total Bottom Time: 57 minutes
Water temperature: 81 degrees Farenheit
Exposure Protection: 3mm shorty wetsuit
Air source: Enriched Air Nitrox 32% oxygen
Photos Copyright Gil Griffin 2009. Clockwise, from top left: Our dive bangka, Taks; panda clownfish in anemone; panda clownfish and saddleback clownfish; nudibranch; coral seascape; sea star.

DIVE DAY ONE: SEND IN THE CLOWN(FISH)

San Miguel

Seriously, the directors of "Finding Nemo" should've come here to do a casting call.

There are more clownfish here, in this part of the Philippines, than a dive guide can wave a pointer at.

But hey, who's complaining?

Just look in any patch of anemone here, at this site which bears the same name as the national beer, and there are bound to be some. As dive shop operator Jason Schwenke of Florida Keys Diving in Islamorada, Fla. told me about this time last year: "If you don't see (insert fish species) here, you're diving with your eyes closed."

On this dive, a patchy reef with sand channels in fairly shallow waters, there was some interplay between two clownfish and a tiny crab sharing the same anemone. Not quite combat, but not quite harmony either. And then there was that eggplant-colored moray eel which poked its head out of a narrow outcropping. That was the first time I'd ever seen a moray of that color. And note the differences you see, in the clownfish in the pictures. They are different varieties.

Dive Buddies: Rick and Kathy Stratton

Dive Guide: Marco Inocencio

Max depth: 59 feet

Total Bottom Time: 51 minutes

Water temperature: 81 degrees Farenheit

Exposure Protection: 3mm shorty wetsuit

Air source: Enriched Air Nitrox 32% oxygen

Photos Copyright Gil Griffin 2009. Clockwise, from top left: panda clownfish in anemone; Clark's anemonefish, in anemone; moray eel; Clark's anemonefish and crab.

DIVE DAY ONE: SEND IN THE CLOWN(FISH)

Dauin North

Once we laid eyes on the beautiful, stylish and traditional white, outrigger bangka, fitted with speedboat motors, we were thinking the sweet ride would be the vessel to ferry us to our this destination, just a six-minute jaunt north of the resort.

Instead, we got a more conventional looking speedboat. OK, so it wasn't as sweet as stylin' in a tricked-out bangka, but no one minded as we submerged into a reef of mixed corals -- mostly branching, elkhorn ones, so named for their resemblance to antelope antlers, and boulders.

All the dive sites ringing the resort are in protected marine sanctuary areas, marked by buoys. Boats aren't allowed inside the boundaries of the buoys, so divers must backroll off their boats then make short swims inside the zones. The reef to the north of the Atlantis Resort is so large, it's divided into two dive sites, Dauin North and Dauin South.

Once again, we discovered clownfish everywhere, making their homes in soft, wiry anemone, swaying in the light current, looking like a pot of overcooked, pink or purple-tipped fat pasta noodles. There were also some nice, unexpected surprises in the mostly flat terrain, such as a squadron of squid that appeared out of nowhere at about the instant we descended. There were a total of about seven, puttering like helicopters with blades whirring, in a formation. It was a flashback for me to last July, when I saw something eerily similar at a site in Dominica.

Marco Inocencio, our Dumaguete born and raised dive guide, pointed out another sight I hadn't seen in many years since a trip to Palau -- giant clams.

Inocencio told us that occasionally, even more unusual inhabitants like leaf scorpionfish and robust ghost pipefish also patrol this site.

Dive Buddies: Rick, Kathy Stratton

Dive Guide: Marco Inocencio

Max depth: 57 feet

Total bottom time: 61 minutes

Water temperature: 81 degrees Farenheit

Exposure Protection: 3mm wetsuit

Air source: Enriched Air Nitrox, 32% oxygen

Photos copyright Gil Griffin 2009. Photos, clockwise from top left: Clownfish pairs in anemone; giant clam; reef squid;

DIVE DAY ONE: SEND IN THE CLOWN(FISH)

Atlantis Hotel House Reef

The chorus of the old sad song goes, "send in the clowns."

And by the looks of things just off the sandy, coconut palm-laden shores of the Atlantis Dive Resort in Dauin, on the island of Negros Oriental in the Philippines, those clowns -- or at least clownfish -- are all here. They're here in all their orange-and-white, orange-red-and-white and orange-and-black glory, living comfortably in white, pillowy anemone to protect themselves from predators. Their childlike faces show a little apprehension when hulking humans approach them with cameras and who can really blame them?

This is the House Reef at Atlantis Hotel and all guests begin their diving trips on this site, doing a checkout dive, utilizing a shore entry, to test for proper buoyancy, weighting and to clear up any issues that may exist with gear and comfort. To start this dive, divers simply wade in chest-deep, strap on their fins, do a short surface swim, then descend along a modestly slpoing sand channel. And who wouldn't be comfortable, though, in 80-degree waters?

The House Reef features numerous discarded tires, which were set up to be artificial reefs and they're now encrusted with soft coral growth. They serve as the perfect hiding places for wildlife like the sweetlips, pictured above. But elsewhere, there's natural growth, such as the common anemone where the clownfish are playing. Here in the Philippines, as in Malaysia and other Southeast Asian countries' waters, there are several different kinds of clownfish, including the pandas, pictured above. As you'll discover, there are also Clark's anemonefish, pink anemonefish, saddleback clownfish, tomato anemonefish and others. And contrary to the sweet, innocent vibes of the world's most famous clownfish, "Nemo," there are some kinds which are aggressive toward divers -- or anyone or anything else they suspect are intruding on their homes.

Elsewhere in this reef, there are unusual creatures, such as the bannerfish (top left) and more common tropicals like the schooling goatfish (top right). This dive was quite a nice introduction to eight dive days here in the Philippines.

Dive Buddies: Rick and Kathy Stratton, founders and publishers of Northwest Dive News
Dive Guide: Marco Inocencio.

Max Depth: 56 feet

Total Bottom Time: 51 minutes

Water temperature: 81 degrees Farenheit
Exposure Protection: 3mm wetsuit
Air source: Enriched Air Nitrox, 32% oxygen

Photos Copyright Gil Griffin, 2009. From top, clockwise: bannerfish; a school of goatfish; a trio of panda clownfish in anemone and a sweetlips.

PARADISE FOUND: ARRIVING AT DUMAGUETE

On the quick, hour-and-change flight south to Dumaguete, a city on the island of Negros Oriental -- one of 7,107 islands in the Philippines' chain -- I met the first two prople in the Scuba Travel Ventures group, Rick and Kathy, who are from Seattle. Together in 1996, they founded the publication, Northwest Dive News. They later expanded the business to set up Midwest Dive News and Northeast Dive News.

The dive world is incredibly small and so they know very well a writer and editor named Bob Sterner, who frequently contributes to Northeast Dive News and who was writing a piece for me at Scuba Diving before its acquisition by Bonnier Group, about diving in Rhode Island.

We overflew a beautiful green patch of land over turquoise seas and upon disembarking we were greeted by the familiar salty, humid tropical air. We were greeted by a smiling, robust blonde woman whose appropriate nickname was stitched into her Atlantis Resort polo shirt: "Bigs." Her associate, a tall, thin Filipino man whose stitching on his shirt read, "Noel," also greeted us and stepped from behind the wheel of a custom-made, tricked out jeepney that bears the name "Atlantis" on it.

For those of you who aren't familiar with jeepneys, they are perhaps -- along with covered tricycles -- the most recognizable vehicle in the Philippines. Jeepneys are 1940s U.S. Army transports that were left behind after American occupation of the Philippines after the islands were liberated from Japanese occupation. They are boxy, small buses and entrepreneurial Filipinos colorfully painted them and converted them into vehicles to carry paying passengers on local trips in cities of all sizes. Seats are benches that face each other, toward the inside of the vehicle. But this Atlantis jeepney's seats face forward.

We rumbled through Dumaguete, which is shadowed by a tall mountain range called the Cuernos Negros ("Black Horns") is a city of over 100,000 and is industrial and the home of Siliman University. A familiar smell greeted me: A delicious mix of sweetness and smoke -- people heating coconut husks to draw out oil. We passed down a narrow road to Dauin, another nearby city, where towering coconut palms framed the road. Roosters and goats scurried around in patches of dirt alongside the blacktop and covered tricycles stuffed with riders sped by in the opposite direction, with their staccato engines buzzing.

We arrived at the Atlantis Resort, which is well camouflaged from the main road, behind a left turn into a thicket. of brush. There are towering, airy thatched roof buildings here, which are nestled up against the beach and blue sea.

We were greeted in the restaurant area with three treats: fresh coconuts with a hole poked out and straw inserted to savor fresh coconut juice; hot mini-towels and even a complimentary massage at the table where we sat, filling out paperwork for diving.

After all the consternation about my registration cards, Bigs told me not to worry -- that because Alantis is a PADI-run resort, all anyone had to do was to look up my information on line. The massage, provided by a woman named Wilma, who runs the resort's spa, erased whatever tension was left in my shoulders and back.

And having a Filipino delicious breakfast my father-in-law has perfected for the whole family back in San Diego, that I always look forward to: longganiza (sweet sausage), garlic rice, two sunny side up eggs and sliced fruit only added to the heavenly feeling.

Only one more thing would complete the feeling of bliss: Getting geared up from mask to fins, submerging and seeing some cool stuff underwater.

So we got an orientation from the dive shop, where I picked available No. 42 (in honor of Jackie Robinson), found a locker with my name typed onto a piece of paper and taped to it and saw the map painted on the wall of all the possible sites we'll dive and a poster board with pictures of all the marine life we may see. We hooked up with Marco, a young divemaster and marine biologist from Dumaguete in his 20s who has a friendly smile and signature high-pitched laugh and dived into three different sites...

Photos Copyright Gil Griffin 2009. Clockwise from top left: Philippine Airlines A321 after disembarking at Dumaguete airport; Gil Griffin standing in front of Atlantis Resorts' customized jeepney; Atlantis Dive Resort.

IT'S 3:45 A.M. WELCOME TO MANILA

After a long day of planes, trains and automobiles, I have safely arrived in Manila. With very big thanks to Genaro Velasquez, the Country Manager for Philippine Airlines, to whom I was introduced in San Francisco by Rene de Los Santos, of the Philippines Department of Tourism during a face-to-face meeting in downtown San Francisco during my six-hour layover, he made a phone call without my asking and just like that, cleared a whole row on board the 747-400 for me to stretch out in.
I definitely relished every inch of space and got about seven continuous hours of sleep on what would be the longest non-stop flight I've ever been on -- 14 hours and 21 minutes.
It was that long not only because of the distance and mileage, but because the airline didn't do a customary technical landing in Guam en route. Normally, the combination of a full flight, payload and pushing headwinds make it necessary to refuel. But because the flight wasn't full, payload was down and there was enough fuel to cross all the way to Manila.
That also meant our arrival was at 3:45 a.m., instead of the anticipated time of 5:40 a.m.
When our wheels touched down, I heard the same familiar sounds I heard when I last landed at Manila 10 years ago: applause. Many passengers applauded as we taxied under the dark skies to the terminal.
Getting through customs was a breeze and I conversed with the customs agent in the little Tagalog I know.
But this adventure, which began with missing a flight, had produced still yet another alarming situation -- midway through the flight, when I was served a glass of water, I searched for my black diving binder which contained a plastic bag of white powder. It is Benefiber and was going to dissolve it in water. But the binder, which also contains my scuba certification cards, wasn't in my backpack. It took me searching everywhere inside it three times for me to accept that somewhere I'd lost it -- most likely in the San Francisco airport. Knowing I could do nothing about it until I could get to a phone in Manila, I mapped out a plan: Call my wife and ask her to call the Professional Association of Dive Instructors (PADI) in Rancho Santa Margarita, Calif. and have them fax all my proof of certification to the dive shop at the Atlantis Resort in Dumaguete; call my mother and ask her to call Continental Airlines and tell them I believe I left my binder near seat 16-F on flight 478 from Houston.
So when I arrived, thank goodness for vending machines selling international phone calling cards and a wi-fi zone in Manila's domestic terminal, so I was able to execute the plan.
And thank goodness again for Arlene's being the most organized and resourceful person I know.
And my mother being the most sacrificing and patient person I know.
Together, we solved the issue.
There's an important phrase I learned in Tagalog:
"Utang na loob."
In English, it roughly means:
"I owe ya one."

IT'S 6:08 A.M. DO YOU KNOW WHERE YOUR FLIGHT IS?

I'm running.

Panicking and running along gray concrete, after rudely halting a conversation with my friend, Marcia Mitchell, who I haven't seen since college. She and I lived on the same floor of our freshman dorm at Brown University. She shares my December 12 birthday and, being the standout basketball player she was, she stand 6 feet, 2 inches tall and can look me directly in the eye.

Only her eyes conveyed disgust and shock as I leave and sprint alongside a man wearing a captain's hat and navy jacket, walking alongside a donkey-drawn cart.

"When do we sail, captain?" I ask.

"In about five minutes," he says.

My mind and my feet are racing, thinking that if I miss this ship, it's going to be very difficult to travel from this island to my next destination.

Then...blackness.

Suddenly, I'm jolted from my subconscious into reality.

Something doesn't feel right.

I should feel like I've awakened from a short, yet deep sleep. But I don't.

I reach for my cell phone on the end table and flip it open. I set the alarm for 4:30 a.m.

I check the time.

It reads "6:08."

"Holy ... !" were my first words this morning, which were loud enough to wake my sleeping wife and startle my cat.

"What is it?!" Arlene, my wife asked.

"I've missed my flight!" I said, panicking.

There was no denying it, no way around it.

I was never going to make the Delta flight I was booked on, to go to Atlanta, the first leg in a series of flights that are scheduled to deliver me to San Francisco, Manila and finally to Dumaguete, on the island of Negros Oriental, in the Philippines.

That's when Arlene, my wife, donned her figurative superhero costume.

I panicked and paced; she called Delta.

I frantically stuffed the last of my things in a backpack; she called Continental.

Within minutes, Arlene solved the problem. She got me booked on Continental flights to Houston and then San Francisco, which have me arriving just two hours later then planned. For just two $75 charges for each leg, for changing bookings.

More later, as I'm on the way to San Francisco!