citycountryguy
Contributor
I was diving Cozumel with Aldora a couple of weeks ago, and decided to do a third dive for the day on their "afternoon Express." Basically, it is a "close to the Villa" dive--go out to the wall just out from the Villa or do a more shallow dive on the flatter portion inside the wall. There are a lot of juvenile fish on the shallow dive, my wife wanted to get some more photos in that day, so we chose shallow.
About 9 minutes into the dive, at between 25 and 30 feet, I heard a sudden noise that at first I thought was coming from the shore or a boat (we were quite close). Then I realized it couldn't be either--nothing on the shore would be that loud, and there was no doppler effect that you get from a boat motor.
Then it dawned on me--looked at my gauge and saw the air moving down rather quickly. I was down current maybe 15-20 from my wife who had stopped and her head in her camera, looking away from me, taking a shot of a very young--small--spotted eel.
I took the few extra seconds to swim up to her and pull her fin--which for a minute, being husband and wife (I've done that before to show her something) she ignored as she was just getting the shot. She turned around in a second, I pointed back to the top of my tank, and she saw the air escaping and flow of bubbles. She grabbed her octo and started to hand it to me, but watching my gauge, I was pretty sure I would make it to the surface with a relatively normal ascent, so we started up, although she kept her octo ready. A few feet into the ascent the DM got there (she had been spotting for the next photo subject), and basically made sure I took her octo. When she knew I had it and was fine, we went up slowly for the rest of the ascent. She had turned off my tank after I signaled OK with her octo.
Chino (Alex), our captain, had seen all the bubbles and was right there when we surfaced. They made sure I got on the boat first, and then, while I was saying everything was fine, took a minute to check me over. (I love Aldora and their focus on safety and quality, btw.) When I looked at my computer, I had 1590 left when my tank was closed. I had started with a normal fill for Aldora--steel 120 with 3460, according to the Cobalt. And at that depth on a normal dive, I could probably go for more than an hour and a half typically.
After sitting for about 5 minutes so we could all refocus a bit, I took another tank on board and we went and "took a mulligan," starting the dive again and having fun--although my air consumption was a bit higher than normal.
This was the first time, and hopefully last, that I have an O ring blow under water. I've seen them go on a boat before, but not almost 10 minutes into a dive. What I learned:
1. I'll always know what a blown O ring sounds like at depth now. There is no mistaking it for a boat or other sound, although I was confused for the first few seconds.
2. Other divers can't hear the sound I was hearing. We debriefed both between dives and after--even when I was pulling on my wife's fin and she was close to me she said she couldn't hear the air escaping my tank. Even though it was very loud to me, either because of distraction or focused attention elsewhere, or whatever, most divers who are in the water will probably not make an immediate connection to trouble if they hear the sound--even if it is audible to them. It is not a recognized danger sound--until you have heard it. And you can't count on someone else seeing the bubbles and then reacting quickly, although the DM did and that is why she got there relatively quickly. (BTW, both my wife and I are independent, experienced divers, and prefer it when we aren't shadowed by or expected to shadow a guide on a dive.)
3. In retrospect, and if it happened again, I would probably just immediately begin a solo ascent. The reason I didn't immediately ascend when I realized what was happening is that I didn't want my wife to turn around and have me suddenly be gone. Having reflected, I'm not sure that is a good enough reason not to immediately begin an ascent.
At that depth, I knew I could get to the surface even OOA, and I also knew I had at least 20-30 seconds from the time I realized the O ring was gone until I would be very low on air. I was watching my pressure drop, and by the time I got her to her fin I had about 2200 left. Then, at about 14 feet or so is where the DM turned off my tank, with the 1590 left.
4. I'm glad we chose the shallow dive rather than the wall--where I would have been at around 70, maybe deeper, at that point in the dive. I'm not sure how that would have gone at a significantly greater depth, or what our specific proximity/situation might have been. I think I could have gotten to the surface from that depth, but it certainly would have been a bit more sketchy in that regard. Fast recognition of the problem, and a quick response to manage it become more critical. Ironically, a blown o ring is not a condition where the correct response may be, "Stop, Breathe, Think." This is an incident where you need to know what it is quickly, so that you can respond more instinctively than in a considered manner. And I don't know how to train folks for that.
5. I felt totally in control the whole time. I was aware, felt in control and that I was responding to the situation appropriately the whole time. However, the DM said that when she got to me my eyes were wide, and she was checking carefully to make sure I was not in panic. It was interesting to me that even though I felt certain everything was going to be fine, one of the physiological signs of panic--the wide eyes--was present. Maybe that is normal contextually, but I'll watch divers more closely in the future--not only their eyes, but other signals as well. You can't discount what the eyes tell you, but that may not be the whole of the story.
Granted, a blown O ring is rather uncommon in the water. Never had it happen before--never seen it happen before to anyone else. But I learned something from this, as did my wife as part of a buddy pair. (Typically I spot a little down current for her, so that as a photographer she can take her time and then move to whatever else I might have found. I pull on here fin when she's taking a photo of a shrimp and an eagle ray is sailing by a few feet from her, and sometimes she really wants to get that shot...) We now talk about our contingencies a bit more fully, maybe we had become too confident in one another or too complacent, however you want to look at it). At a minimum, we scan for one another a bit more often now, and expand our focus from the "micro" to the "macro" more frequently as well.
About 9 minutes into the dive, at between 25 and 30 feet, I heard a sudden noise that at first I thought was coming from the shore or a boat (we were quite close). Then I realized it couldn't be either--nothing on the shore would be that loud, and there was no doppler effect that you get from a boat motor.
Then it dawned on me--looked at my gauge and saw the air moving down rather quickly. I was down current maybe 15-20 from my wife who had stopped and her head in her camera, looking away from me, taking a shot of a very young--small--spotted eel.
I took the few extra seconds to swim up to her and pull her fin--which for a minute, being husband and wife (I've done that before to show her something) she ignored as she was just getting the shot. She turned around in a second, I pointed back to the top of my tank, and she saw the air escaping and flow of bubbles. She grabbed her octo and started to hand it to me, but watching my gauge, I was pretty sure I would make it to the surface with a relatively normal ascent, so we started up, although she kept her octo ready. A few feet into the ascent the DM got there (she had been spotting for the next photo subject), and basically made sure I took her octo. When she knew I had it and was fine, we went up slowly for the rest of the ascent. She had turned off my tank after I signaled OK with her octo.
Chino (Alex), our captain, had seen all the bubbles and was right there when we surfaced. They made sure I got on the boat first, and then, while I was saying everything was fine, took a minute to check me over. (I love Aldora and their focus on safety and quality, btw.) When I looked at my computer, I had 1590 left when my tank was closed. I had started with a normal fill for Aldora--steel 120 with 3460, according to the Cobalt. And at that depth on a normal dive, I could probably go for more than an hour and a half typically.
After sitting for about 5 minutes so we could all refocus a bit, I took another tank on board and we went and "took a mulligan," starting the dive again and having fun--although my air consumption was a bit higher than normal.
This was the first time, and hopefully last, that I have an O ring blow under water. I've seen them go on a boat before, but not almost 10 minutes into a dive. What I learned:
1. I'll always know what a blown O ring sounds like at depth now. There is no mistaking it for a boat or other sound, although I was confused for the first few seconds.
2. Other divers can't hear the sound I was hearing. We debriefed both between dives and after--even when I was pulling on my wife's fin and she was close to me she said she couldn't hear the air escaping my tank. Even though it was very loud to me, either because of distraction or focused attention elsewhere, or whatever, most divers who are in the water will probably not make an immediate connection to trouble if they hear the sound--even if it is audible to them. It is not a recognized danger sound--until you have heard it. And you can't count on someone else seeing the bubbles and then reacting quickly, although the DM did and that is why she got there relatively quickly. (BTW, both my wife and I are independent, experienced divers, and prefer it when we aren't shadowed by or expected to shadow a guide on a dive.)
3. In retrospect, and if it happened again, I would probably just immediately begin a solo ascent. The reason I didn't immediately ascend when I realized what was happening is that I didn't want my wife to turn around and have me suddenly be gone. Having reflected, I'm not sure that is a good enough reason not to immediately begin an ascent.
At that depth, I knew I could get to the surface even OOA, and I also knew I had at least 20-30 seconds from the time I realized the O ring was gone until I would be very low on air. I was watching my pressure drop, and by the time I got her to her fin I had about 2200 left. Then, at about 14 feet or so is where the DM turned off my tank, with the 1590 left.
4. I'm glad we chose the shallow dive rather than the wall--where I would have been at around 70, maybe deeper, at that point in the dive. I'm not sure how that would have gone at a significantly greater depth, or what our specific proximity/situation might have been. I think I could have gotten to the surface from that depth, but it certainly would have been a bit more sketchy in that regard. Fast recognition of the problem, and a quick response to manage it become more critical. Ironically, a blown o ring is not a condition where the correct response may be, "Stop, Breathe, Think." This is an incident where you need to know what it is quickly, so that you can respond more instinctively than in a considered manner. And I don't know how to train folks for that.
5. I felt totally in control the whole time. I was aware, felt in control and that I was responding to the situation appropriately the whole time. However, the DM said that when she got to me my eyes were wide, and she was checking carefully to make sure I was not in panic. It was interesting to me that even though I felt certain everything was going to be fine, one of the physiological signs of panic--the wide eyes--was present. Maybe that is normal contextually, but I'll watch divers more closely in the future--not only their eyes, but other signals as well. You can't discount what the eyes tell you, but that may not be the whole of the story.
Granted, a blown O ring is rather uncommon in the water. Never had it happen before--never seen it happen before to anyone else. But I learned something from this, as did my wife as part of a buddy pair. (Typically I spot a little down current for her, so that as a photographer she can take her time and then move to whatever else I might have found. I pull on here fin when she's taking a photo of a shrimp and an eagle ray is sailing by a few feet from her, and sometimes she really wants to get that shot...) We now talk about our contingencies a bit more fully, maybe we had become too confident in one another or too complacent, however you want to look at it). At a minimum, we scan for one another a bit more often now, and expand our focus from the "micro" to the "macro" more frequently as well.
