Living on Guam in the 1970's

News-Press Waves Article - March 2007 - Cherri Wood

Back in the mid-70’s (and yes, that is 1970’s), we were diving the wrecks of the east coast off Maryland, Delaware, Virginia & New Jersey. We had good jobs and plenty of debt due to our desire to support our diving habit. Gary was approached by a Washington Head Hunter and he took a short lunch break to interview and scribble some great salary demands on a paper napkin for a job that had no specific description or duties except that it was somewhere in the Pacific. He had no intention of taking the job, but was just satisfying that question of “what are my services worth in the non-governmental world?” It was a cold winter in Maryland – the Chesapeake Bay froze over so completely that the Coast Guard brought ice breakers up the bay to clear the shipping lines. We have photos of me standing in the middle of the Chesapeake Bay, looking like Nanouk of the North while I nervously listened to the sounds of ice explosions around me as the channels were cleared. Just as the yellow blooms of daffodils started to fade and the forsythia sprayed golden splatters across our yard, Gary called me at work and said “Do you want to go to Guam?” I can honestly say that I didn’t take a breath before saying, “OK”. He had gotten a phone call from his early spring interview saying they were offering a position at a substantial salary increase with perks and he was very tempted. My “OK” cemented the deal and he accepted – we were to pack up the house, sell the cars, motorcycles and motor home, drive across country and ship our new 4-wheel drive vehicle from Long Beach in a short 6 weeks. We did have a moment of concern that first evening when we got home, pulled out the Atlas and said “Where the heck is Guam?” Is it that little dot in the Pacific, just under the letter “C” on the map? In all fairness, we did know it was tropical, and we did know that the diving was exceptional – basically unexplored and accessible.

I had never been further west than Ohio and my tropical experience was limited to our yearly trips to the Florida Keys but at the time it seemed like a good idea to disrupt our lives and make some changes. At the end of 6-weeks, we were westward bound, coolers full of sandwiches and soda, sleeping bags in the back of the Ramcharger and kids loaded down with coloring books and tourist maps of Texas, Arizona, and points west.

We had to spend (sigh…) 3 weeks in Hawaii while Gary learned more about his job and made connections with the staff on island. We had a connection in Oahu who managed to get us in the water and diving every weekend. I can tell you that it was an amazing experience. Until this time, all of my diving had been limited to rolling off the back of a boat into the dark waters of the North Atlantic – wearing a heavy wetsuit, double tanks, and enough lead to sink the Titanic. Our friend told us to show up in our bathing suits and get ready to walk out over the reef and jump in. My first view of those waves pounding over the coral at the Three Tables site on the North Shore of Oahu were definitely intimidating. I had never made a beach entry and now I was getting instructions telling me it was easy – just time the waves and jump in when they are right. OK – but my brain was asking “How do we get back out? “

After 14 or 15 dives in Oahu, we arrived on Guam at 4:00 am in the morning. When the plane doors opened, it felt like someone had draped a warm towel over my face and the musty smell of jungle hung over the airport. By noon the next day, we had already spotted the turquoise waves breaking over the coral reef of Tumon Bay. By the weekend, still living out of suitcases spread over the hotel floor, we were in the local dive shop getting information on the best spots to jump in. This was paradise – an instant romance with the island and the surrounding waters. It was like going into a chocolate factory and someone asking you to pick just one piece!

We managed to find a house, sign the lease, accept delivery of our meager home furnishings, find our car at the local port and get the kids signed up in school in a very short time frame. I found some work in the local dive shop and Gary discovered that his hours were short and flexible so the world was our oyster. There weren’t many dive charter boats on Guam since shore diving was so easily accessible but for our first dive we did sign up on a charter that headed north of the tiny city of Agana, and up along the historic Two Lovers Leap cliffs. The spot was called Double Reef. Back in those days, dive skins were a gleam in a designer’s eye so we dove in shorts and t-shirts. We stepped off the dive boat into water that was as clear and teeming with sea life. It was almost impossible to feel the difference in temperature as we broke the surface and began our descent. I can honestly say that is began an instant love affair with the Pacific coral reefs.

The reef was so alive that it is difficult to describe. One of our friends, a diving instructor on Guam, believed that the Pacific fish were more colorful than their Atlantic relatives because the schools were smaller and the competition was greater, therefore, the camouflage that mirrored the colorful coral was more necessary. I couldn’t argue with her because I have never seen anything more colorful than the fish of the Pacific.

For the next two years, we went diving every day of the weekend unless there was a Typhoon and we spent Thursday evenings with our friends doing night dives in any spot that had accessible shoreline and a place to park. Gary’s job got very quiet because the computer system he supported had been dismantled and the new computer had not arrived on island. I had found a very flexible job with the Navy and was able to be at work by 6:00 am and by 2:00 pm on many days, we met at the boat ramp of the Ship Repair Facility where we could make the 3 minute trek to the wrecks of the Tokai Maru and the Cormoran – 2 wrecks from different wars that touched on the bottom of Apra Harbor.

We circled the island – diving with the seasons. The windward side of the island was only accessible for a short time during the year and it was more difficult to get to the edge of the reef. Most times, we had to wade into the fresh water river and drift down until we tasted the salt water and spotted the shadowy figures of some really big sharks on the reef edge. If the wind was out of the east, we had so many places to dive that we started making longer snorkels to reach otherwise impossible areas. We drove down narrow paths and then hiked down some treacherous cliffs to reach the Double Reef location that we first saw from the comfort of a dive boat. Even when the weather was rough on the East coast, we could get into the shallow water and then follow the broad conduit of the Australian Cable down into deeper water and through a cut that avoided the crashing waves over the sharp coral.

Apra Harbor was almost always a safe place to dive and our biggest issue was whether anyone had access to the good spots that you could reach from inside the Navy base or we whether would have to hike down a sandy spit lined with tall Pines where we climbed over the rocks for our entry. And the wrecks….but everyone knows how much we love wrecks – and in Apra Harbor there were plenty.

We once borrowed a boat from the local dive shop and 4 of us made the trip around the riskier south point of the island to a very secluded spot called Bile Bay (pronounced Billy Bay) that was known for its population of Lionfish and Nudibranchs. We camped on the beach and made night dives while watching flames devour the entire hillside above our campsite. On one memorable weekend, the weather turned bad and we ended up taking turns keeping the boat anchored or sleeping in wet sleeping bags on the sandy beach. The trip back was so bad that we ended up calling the dive shop and they had to drive down to pull the boat out at a safe place because we couldn’t get around the point.

Gary was teaching scuba classes and there were no local swimming pools for training. We had several points including around the Piti Power Plant, the supplier of power to the entire island, where instructors could hold “pool sessions”. It was sometimes challenging because the students were easily distracted by the schools of tiny fish that hovered around their legs while they learned the skills of mask clearing and buoyancy control. Many of the classes were taught to the sailors stationed at the Ship Repair Facility in support of the subs and supply ships. Our graduation picnics were always incredible feasts since these sailors had access to the better quality of food that is served to the deserving submariners. He also included local, Guamanians, in his classes and we enjoyed many Fiestas at the family homes of the students where the beer flowed and the beetlenut was passed around on wooden trays, wrapped in green lime leaves. At the end of the Fiesta, our car was always packed full with mango, papaya, coconut, fresh fish, and some of the spiciest salads you have every dreamed of.

From Guam, Palau, Truk and the islands of Micronesia were easily accessible so if you thought you were bored, you could just hop on the plane and head to one of the other islands. The way of life back then was simple and easy but it doesn’t exist in modern times. We don’t know if the diving is the same but we do know that in these times we couldn’t afford the rent or the price of living in paradise.

I still remember the day that Gary announced that he had taken a new job and we were going back to the U.S. I don’t think I spoke to him for the next two months. In retrospect, I understand that it was a smart decision and that things change. We have been back to Guam a few times in more recent times and I’m not sure we would be so happy living there now as we were back in the good days. Since that time, we have lived and dived in many different locations but it’s hard to find any diving that is comparable to that tiny dot under the “C” in Pacific Ocean called Guam.