Most divers surface from the depths with a distinct imprint from their masks — dark red streaks on their faces where the water pressure has raised the blood cells to the surface of the skin. But their temporary brandings quickly fade as the dive boat heads toward dry land.
Nicky Wirawan, however, has the distinct curvature of a dive mask permanently etched in his tanned skin.
Born and bred in Bali, the 41-year-old inherited Bali Marine Sports, the oldest dive shop on the island, from his father, Ketut Wirajaya.
Nicky claims to be nearing his 15,000th dive some time in the next couple of weeks.
Nicky’s name is synonymous with diving in Indonesia — drop it in any dive shop across the archipelago and it’s met with a smile, a pat on the back and a nostalgic story.
“He’s like a mentor,” said Lia Marpaung, a monitor and evaluating officer for the Australia Indonesia Partnership for Economic Governance in Jakarta.
“I’ve been diving with him for three years. I feel safe and comfortable with him. He’s knowledgeable beyond just having dive skills and sensing the currents. He knows how to manage guests. We’re all divers, but we’re also individuals. Nicky knows how to handle our emotions and make us feel calm.”
Lia said that Nicky does not push divers into the water, but has the calming ability to make them feel comfortable in sketchier conditions.
“A while back we were diving around Nusa Penida and there were big waves in the area, so I immediately wanted to cancel the dive,” Lia said. “But Nicky could sense my fear. I feel safe diving with him. Now if I go diving with Bali Marine Sports I always ask, ‘Will Nicky be there?’ ”
Nicky and his crew know all the dive spots in Bali. His father found most of them back in the early 1970s — everything from the deep blue hammerhead shark havens on the west end of Nusa Penida to the wall dives in Menjangan and the wonders of Secret Bay and Jetty Point off the coast of Pemuteran, on the north side of the island.
“I still get excited,” Nicky said. “I like to listen to the guests when they get excited and tell the stories back on the boat. I mean, it’s my job, but it’s a great job.”
Ask any diver around the world about their bucket list and you’re bound to hear one word, twice: mola mola. Every diver headed to Bali this season will be gunning for a glimpse of the elusive sunfish.
Mola mola, the great sunfish that spend most of their lives at depths greater than 200 meters, tend to pop up every year around Nusa Penida’s famous Crystal Bay.
Everyone from diving novices to National Geographic filmmakers flock to see the giant fish during this time as it ascends to a depth of around 30 meters and enjoys a bit of a day spa, allowing reef fish to clean the parasites from its skin.
Sunfish have even been known to bask near the surface of the water and allow seabirds to graze on their nettlesome parasites.
“The season starts in July and runs until October, but in the last two years the mola mola have come earlier. Last year the season ended in September,” Nicky said.
“August has been cold, from 17 to 19 degrees Celsius, so the mola mola have stayed around. I expect them to run until October.”
Back at the shop after a long day of diving, guests gather in the last of the afternoon light outside BMS to share photos, scrawl down details in log books and swap stories from the day’s dives.
Nicky crosses his arms, sips papaya juice and flashes his famous Cheshire smile. His guests recant racing hearts and quickly emptying air tanks as they watched mola mola rise from the depths, or tell about how they forgot to breathe as manta rays gilded just inches above them.
The guests, just back from three dives around Nusa Penida, a 40-minute boat ride from the porch of Nicky’s dive shop, talk with their hands, unintentionally interrupting one another, narrowing their gaze and recounting every detail. Like witnesses to major bank heist, each diver delivers their account differently.
All Nicky can do is smile.
Like most people who wake up every morning and punch the clock at their dream jobs, Nicky never talks about retiring. But he’s aware that the time will come for him to stay on land.
“I’d like to think I’ll still be diving at 60, but I don’t know if I have 5,000 dives left in me,” he says, scratching at his dive-mask markings as he ponders the future.
“All I know is that if I leave this I will have to find something relaxing. Something just as enjoyable as diving.”