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Contents of this Issue: All publicly available. Gangga Resort, Manado, Indonesia. All Those Weird Critters. Where Travel Insurance Counts. Why no Statia? At Last, Justice in Belize. Divemasters in American Waters. Barracuda Attacks. A Cause of Pollution. The Dive Equipment Show. The Devil is Not in the Details. Editorial Office:. When the alarm clock went off at a. Now, in two hours I was to board a a. Well, my buddy and I made it to the dock, but were greeted by no one. As dusk approached, a boat finally appeared in the distance and we finished the last leg of our journey in the rain. As you might imagine, I was interested in an adult beverage and bed, but as our gear was hauled to the bungalow, we were offered sandwiches and fresh coconut water. Then, off to the dive shop where Hanne Davi, the Danish resort manager, reviewed our c-cards and log books husband Gaspare runs the Bali operation , collected our release forms and explained many dive details and the dive operation. Two-tank dives departed at a. All day three tank dives left at a. A p. She would try to accommodate requests for changes in our group, departure times or destinations. Seemed like good service to us. Gangga Island Resort and Spa lies a few miles off North Sulawesi, smack between the muck diving of Lembeh Strait and the reef diving of Bunaken National Marine Park, making it ideal for those who want to dive both areas from luxurious land-based accommodations. Fifteen two-unit bungalows with a capacity of two adults and two children in each unit, are scattered along a winding stone path leading to the dining hall and lounge. We could enjoy the exceptional sea view from our porch lounges in privacy from residents bunked on the other side of a common wall. If I wanted to snooze beneath a palm tree on the beach, I had a personal lounge with foam pads. At the price of a minute walk from the dive shop, being billeted in the next to last building meant few passersby and no kitchen noise. Built from dark native woods, the bungalows were light and airy, with large curtained windows, high ceilings with overhead fans, and fresh flowers. Our comfortable king-sized bed had mosquito netting, which proved unnecessary as we never met a single mozzy. The large bathroom sported a long counter area, bath products and fluffy towels. Soft drinks and beer were in the mini fridge and a five-gallon jug of filtered water was filled daily. A huge open shower was next to a large window so we could wave at folks on the beach while washing off the salt. After a thorough boat briefing on our first day, which included detailed reef sketches on a white board, I donned my aluminum 80, backrolled and dropped down at Aer Benua. A swift current zipped my buddy and me along a wall dusty with sediment from recent rains. All of sudden the current stopped. Then it pushed me down a few feet to where it picked up again and we were off to the races. At psi, I ascended with my buddy and others to the coral garden at 20 feet, but now fought the current as it ran in the opposite direction. I managed to hang on the reef long enough to peer at a wire goby, then winged back to the boat, where I handed up my fins and BCD, and climbed up the short ladder and reported my depth and time. We were asked not to exceed feet, but there was no practical reason to dive that deep; all the cool stuff was shallower. The rides to sites in their foot partially covered boat ranged from 20 to 45 minutes. We glided on flat seas past emerald islands against a background of volcanic cones. Underwater, the guides, once satisfied with our skills, were never overbearing. They pointed out critters with stainless steel rods, without hassling the sea life. Photographers could stop and shoot without interference. Though we never had more than eight divers onboard, the Indonesian dive staff created two groups presumably separated by skill level, but it usually was one group of Italians and a second group of everybody else. The two groups frequently surfaced far apart, but the boat crews were always watchful. One day we were joined by a Mexican fellow who flailed around frantically in the current trying to deal with 20 pounds of lead, until he ran low of air and had to surface. We stayed down. On days when it was just the two of us and the Italians, we had our own private DM. My partner speaks rudimentary Italian and the surface intervals were friendly times, especially when local ladies came onboard to hawk shell jewelry and T-shirts. Sanchiko Point in Bunaken was home to tens of thousands of red-toothed trigger fish and a large school of pyramid butterflies. A small group of batfish beckoned me deeper, where a few jacks flitted by and a Teira batfish fled to a coral head. At Fukui Point I drifted easily among thousands of damsels, and more pyramid butterflies. Hawksbill turtles settled down for photos or swam along slowly with us. Photographers were in the minority. A white-tip reef shark passed in the opposite direction and a hawksbill in a hole watched me kick by. Nirvana, indeed. Sahaung was Crinoid Central, where the feathery and colorful critters were arrayed everywhere: green with yellow, magenta and black, red with yellow, multiple shades of blue. Baby white tips clustered under a dead table coral while a bumphead parrot grazed alone. There were also 62s available, and plenty of spares stowed below the deck so you could dive a on the first deep dive, and switch to an 80 for a shallower second plunge. They analyzed the Nitrox, but I always checked my own fill. Midweek the Nitrox system failed and I had to go back to air. After diving, gear was rinsed and hung up to dry, packed and set up on the boat the next morning. Once I found my Scubapro Mark 25 upside down on the tank. Another time the o-ring on my tank failed and DM Donal tried to fix it while I was bobbing on the surface, but the leak only got worse. I had to get out of the water, holding up the entire group. So having to wait for the rigid meal times was torture. Other than the two weekly BBQs, and two lunch buffets, lunch and dinner were at 1 p. I suspect the late dinner time accommodates the mostly European clientele, many of whom appeared at dinner in collared shirts and dresses, not the typical T- shirts and shorts worn by us casual Americans in most dive resorts. Before dinner, no chatty crowd swapped dive tales at the watering hole. Guests ordered their drinks and drifted off to flip through books from the library, watch videos, shoot pool or link to the free Wi-Fi. That left two starved Yanks at the bar munching free peanuts and fish snacks while waiting for 8 p. Thankfully, food was scrumptious: continental and Indonesian, with choices of meat, fish, chicken or pastas, preceded by soup, salad or hot appetizer, and followed by small portions of cake, pie or ice cream. Aussie and Kiwi wines were available, as were Heineken and local brews served in frosted mugs, and the bartender could even mix margaritas and mojitos. Breakfast was buffet-style, with eggs, pancakes, cereals, toast and fruit. The dive package included a night dive off Lihaga, a small island where Mandarin fish mate. Descending to 35 feet at dusk, we hunkered down in rubble near a three-foot high coral ledge. As if on cue, at 6 p. One pair swam up bellyto- belly right in front of us and darted apart, leaving a small cloud of eggs and sperm to the mercy of the sea. The show is guaranteed; a German couple we met got skunked on their Mandarin dive, so the management offered them a second try at no cost. Management makes a significant investment in the local villagers, providing jobs and training. Some staff has even been sent to Italy to learn Italian most guests were Italian. Your breakfast coffee will arrive without asking, there will be more ice in your water glass, and the bartender may even offer you a taste of the local homemade popskull he keeps hidden away. Caution is advised. Staff assisted us with flight confirmation and emails. This attention to detail brings divers back again and again. One was on his tenth visit, and said he preferred Gangga to Wakatobi because of the easy-going divemasters. Our last dive was at Alpha Omega, a cove in front of a classic South Seas island with thatched hut and resident dugong. Scientists have recently reported extensive coral bleaching throughout Southeast Asia, but on our dives most reefs were unaffected. Except for trips to Bunaken, we saw no sharks or rays, but even two pelagic-freaks like we had to admit the macro life was stunning. At Rainbow Reef, pygmy sea horses justified the use of our magnifying glasses. A white frog fish walked across a coral head, and we saw our first-ever blue ribbon eel. One downer -- the ocean is littered with floating trash on top and debris at depth. The mola mola I thought I saw turned out to be a black garbage bag drifting by at feet. The diving did proved tremendous. We loved the scenery below and above. We booked the resort through Island Dreams. Power is volts 50 Hertz, so transformers with adapters are needed. I want to get all the stories! Tell me how I can become an Undercurrent Online Member and get online access to all the articles of Undercurrent as well as thousands of first hand reports on dive operations world-wide. Email Signup. Email Signup Subscribe Login. Kitts Why no Statia? Active Subscribers Go Here. Dear Fellow Diver: When the alarm clock went off at a. Gangga Cottage Well, my buddy and I made it to the dock, but were greeted by no one. The Dive Boat After a thorough boat briefing on our first day, which included detailed reef sketches on a white board, I donned my aluminum 80, backrolled and dropped down at Aer Benua. View from the grounds The dive package included a night dive off Lihaga, a small island where Mandarin fish mate. Forward this article to your dive buddy. Gangga Cottage. The Dive Boat. View from the grounds.

Gangga Resort, Manado, Indonesia

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