July, 1967. I was in the third year of university working towards a marine biology degree. And, as so often happens, we students had to get summer jobs. My father was not a wealthy man, and while he helped out where he could, the bulk of my university expenses we covered by me, either through bursaries and scholarships, or summer jobs. This summer had been good to me; I had found 2 jobs.
The first job, and the one that paid the most, was working at a local pulp mill. This was a particularly dirty and disgusting job.I still shudder at the thought. One of the parts of the job entailed crawling into the ovens that were used to dry the pulp and vacuuming the filters. The temperatures were about 140 degrees so, on a hot sunny day, you really felt that heat. I drank gallons of water and swallowed salt pills like they were going out of style.
Ah, but the other job was a dream come true. I had been diving, at that point, for nine years. I had never been certified, but I still felt that I was a reasonably competent diver. The fellows at the dive shop must have thought so too, since they took out me out for a checkout dive and granted me the certificate immediately. This was the B.C. Safety Council and Vancouver Island Council of Divers certification. I still have those cards, and while I also have the NAUI and PADI cards, those first two mean more to me.
Once I had been certified by the scuba shop, they asked if I was interested in doing some instructing. I asked how often, explaining that the pulp mill job was the main money earner for me. They however, said that they could work around my mill work schedule. Perfect!!! And since I was taking marine biology, I could give
The first job, and the one that paid the most, was working at a local pulp mill. This was a particularly dirty and disgusting job.I still shudder at the thought. One of the parts of the job entailed crawling into the ovens that were used to dry the pulp and vacuuming the filters. The temperatures were about 140 degrees so, on a hot sunny day, you really felt that heat. I drank gallons of water and swallowed salt pills like they were going out of style.
Ah, but the other job was a dream come true. I had been diving, at that point, for nine years. I had never been certified, but I still felt that I was a reasonably competent diver. The fellows at the dive shop must have thought so too, since they took out me out for a checkout dive and granted me the certificate immediately. This was the B.C. Safety Council and Vancouver Island Council of Divers certification. I still have those cards, and while I also have the NAUI and PADI cards, those first two mean more to me.
Once I had been certified by the scuba shop, they asked if I was interested in doing some instructing. I asked how often, explaining that the pulp mill job was the main money earner for me. They however, said that they could work around my mill work schedule. Perfect!!! And since I was taking marine biology, I could give
