Ther'd be a better shot at me reading the whole thing. Damn lazy book...yeah that's it..it's the book's fault
DIR Class: The Truth Comes Out
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Ther'd be a better shot at me reading the whole thing. Damn lazy book...yeah that's it..it's the book's fault
you were working with a SERIOUS disadvantage.
I started diving in warm, open ocean water. 3 mil wetsuit.
When I took my AOW class, we did it in the springs, because the weather offshore was really snotty that weekend, and while I would have been ok in the 3-4' seas, the rest of the class would have been hurling.
Anyway, that made it worse in a couple of ways.
I stuck a 5 mil shorty over the 3 mil for extra protection. That made the water temperature tolerable. Unfortunately, it also screwed my trim completely, as I was completely unprepared for what it did to my buoyancy, and while I had enough lead I played cork more than I liked.
I thought I had buoyancy control pretty much under control. HA! I learned something from that though, which is what I didn't and needed to do more work on it
Since I've gone to a drysuit for cold water, but still have a 3 mil hooded vest that I put under my wetsuit for "middling" conditions. The extra 3 mil hooded vest no longer makes me do the tango up and down.....
Sounds like quite the experience
I started diving in warm, open ocean water. 3 mil wetsuit.
When I took my AOW class, we did it in the springs, because the weather offshore was really snotty that weekend, and while I would have been ok in the 3-4' seas, the rest of the class would have been hurling.
Anyway, that made it worse in a couple of ways.
I stuck a 5 mil shorty over the 3 mil for extra protection. That made the water temperature tolerable. Unfortunately, it also screwed my trim completely, as I was completely unprepared for what it did to my buoyancy, and while I had enough lead I played cork more than I liked.
I thought I had buoyancy control pretty much under control. HA! I learned something from that though, which is what I didn't and needed to do more work on it
Since I've gone to a drysuit for cold water, but still have a 3 mil hooded vest that I put under my wetsuit for "middling" conditions. The extra 3 mil hooded vest no longer makes me do the tango up and down.....
Sounds like quite the experience
wb416
Contributor
OP
SeaJay
Contributor
Now THAT's funny.
Stupid book. Well... I really appreciate that. There's some truth to the fact that, especially in just 20' of water, a thick suit will definitely help take you for a ride if you're just a little bit out of trim. What normally would be deemed as "good bouyancy" ended up bobbing me like a cork. So you're right.
But the flip side of that is that MHK had no problems. Sure, he's an expert... And I'm not... But that's not the point. The point is that it was possible to have enough skill to manage it. And I didn't have those skills. I simply was not skilled enough to handle a 5 mil suit in 20' of water.
And that was really hard to accept. I thought I was pretty skillful.
And let's face it... Handling a 5 mil suit in 20' of water takes a little finesse... But on the "skill chart," doing so isn't too tough. I mean, compare the skill of handling a 5 mil in 20' of water to the skill of penetration at 240'... Or diving sucessfully in a cave in Mexico... Or deep deco with a dozen other divers in zero vis and 3 knots... Or handling an OOA situation with a paniked buddy. I mean, by comparison, handling a 5 mil in 20' should be cheese, right?
So the big picture... And the part that was so hard to take... Was the fact that I simply did not have the skills I needed to be safe underwater. Heck, you shoulda seen my out of air drills... They were horrible, and very much made worse by the terrible bouyancy problems.
But that's okay.
My ego really took a beating... And that hurt, but I can get over that. Sure, it took me a while, but I will live. In the long run, I'll benefit. At least now am aware of my shortcomings, and I can work on them to correct for them.
And that's what it's really all about. Welcome to DIR.
At least, I think so. MHK knows better than I do, and he's the man to ask. And the man to learn from. Him and Andrew and Jay.
If someone reading this is thinking about the DIR-F class, let me just tell you this: I highly recommend it. Bring some tissues with you for when "The Truth Comes Out." Then take it from there.
What else can you do? Decide to never allow yourself to realize and eventually defeat your shortcomings? Write it all off as "equipment's fault?"
Quit?
I think not.
Glad you liked my little book reference...
I have some other news....I'm going to be taking the DIRF class in June with the KPP..:bang:..I have had the kitchen pass sigend for that weekend and I am a free man for three days.....
To those instructors...beware the little lady doesn't let me out often.....
SeaJay...still anxiously awaiting the rest of the story...
I have some other news....I'm going to be taking the DIRF class in June with the KPP..:bang:..I have had the kitchen pass sigend for that weekend and I am a free man for three days.....
To those instructors...beware the little lady doesn't let me out often.....
SeaJay...still anxiously awaiting the rest of the story...
OP
SeaJay
Contributor
Sunday morning came even earlier than before, although my watch told me that it was later. I'd stayed up most of the night in a feeble attempt to do some gear modification.
This time the whole group of us met over at yet another Waffle House. There was lots of conversation, but I don't remember much of it. Andrew was chowin' on a big plate of hash browns. I asked him if he ate eggs. "Hey, if you want to eat a chicken's period, go for it," was his reply. Normally, I'd have laughed and teased him back; but the previous day's performance weighed heavily on my mind, and I didn't see that today was going to be much different. I had to change my attitude, or I was going to be done for. Too bad I was too beat up to care.
We caravaned over to the dive site, this time just a few miles up the road. I stole another smoke on the way up, and tried to talk some sense into myself. "Cut it out, man. This is your thing. You'll be fine." Yeah, nothing like looking in the rear view mirror and seeing you talking to yourself. Major doubt really begins to set in when you realize that you're talking to yourself.
When I got out of the car and realized that I'd 'bout froze yesterday when we were diving in the late afternoon - and today we'd be diving in the chilly morning - my heart sank. Then I realized that I was dreading diving. I think about diving all the time. I love this sport. What was wrong with me that I was dreading diving? It was just all wrong.
More as an act of desperation than anything else, I decided that today I'd take a different approach. I was really trying to be good at these new skills, and sacrificing any skill I had already learned for those. No way, man. Today, I was going to focus on diving... On staying down there and on not worrying about the fact that I was being watched. Yes, I was concerned about form. Yes, I was concerned about doing it right. Yes, I wanted to learn. But in the face of such a disaster yesterday, it was time to return to the basics. (Isn't that what I was doing anyway?)
Let's dive. A smile came over my face.
We briefed on what the day's dives had in store for us. There were more dry runs, and we were shown the proper way to shoot a lift bag. Very cool indeed! I wanted to do that, and I will at some point. But this day MHK made it clear that we still needed to work on bouyancy and our out of air drills. We were also going to demonstrate a "valve drill" today, where we would perform a complete valve shut-off and turn-on while maintaining bouyancy. "I can do this," I thought. Images of the previous day flashed before me.
This day I considered going back to my 3/2 mil O'Neill. MHK had had 3/2 on yesterday, and now was opting for a 7 mil. This northern-bred Long Islander had gotten cold yesterday. I couldn't imagine having yet another issue underwater, so I once again chose to rent a 5 mil.
After donning the suit, I asked the shop owner to point me to the showers. I was going to fill my suit with hot water this time. I filled my suit instead with water he'd put out specifically for this purpose - hot water in a cooler, with a large thermal coffee mug for dipping. Pouring it into my suit felt terrific. Entry into the quarry's chilled waters was much more bearable this time.
Underwater, I once again resumed perfect trim and buoyancy, again for about thirty seconds. When the sickening feeling of "corking" came up on me around thirty seconds, I broke all the rules and swam like hell back into position. I dumped a good bit of air out of my BC, too. I grabbed the railing of the underwater platform, muscled my way back into position, and then focused on the prone position. I wanted to tell MHK that I was sorry for leaving the position. I wanted to tell him that I was sorry I was such a lost cause. I wanted to tell him that I really could dive. But you know what? I hadn't "corked." I hadn't lost it. I got out of position, but at least I was still where I was supposed to be. It wasn't graceful, but I wasn't repeating yesterday.
MHK wasn't my biggest problem. I was. I wasn't pleased with this performance either, but the fact that I did not give up - and had done what it took to stay down - told my self-doubt, "Shut up and sit down; I can do this." Doing It Wrong wasn't the right way, but it beat not doing it at all. "I'll get this right yet," I thought.
I dumped a bit more air from my wing.
Our first step was to demonstrate an out of air drill. Like yesterday, I'd pretend to be out of air, and we'd rush to each other and demonstrate the correct deployment of the long hose. I signalled, and we rushed each other. This time my hands went right on her shoulders, and I pushed off of her so we wouldn't clunk heads. Again, not pretty, but effective. I'd decided to leave "pretty" until later.
We did much better this time... Although I went completely vertical during the drill, and she came after me, knowing that she was my air supply. She did everything right, I think... Again, not pretty, but right this time. It was a good starting point. Now if I could just control my buoyancy...
We were rounded up again, and this time MHK was going to pretend to be out of air. He was going to rely on me to save his life.
Sheesh.
Before I could argue, he signalled out of air. I didn't want to be the one to tell Andrew that I'd drowned our faithful instructor, so I rushed in and handed him the regulator that surely worked... The one in my mouth. I pushed off of his shoulder (again, not pretty, but effective) and began to unclip my SPG as the drill says.
"Oh yeah... Don't forget to switch to secondary," I thought...
"(Oh man, that's the wrong step... You've already BLOWN IT! You're a complete MORON!)"
"Shut up," I said to The Voice, and I began to breathe off of my secondary. Around that time I unhooked the long hose from around my neck. I was doing everything in the wrong order!
"(Noooooooo!)"
"Okay." (Two tugs to ensure that the hose is clear.) "Okay, SPG. Looks good." (Show him.) "Looks good." (Clip it off again.)
"(Hey, that was easier than before.)"
"MHK, here's the extra hose." (He'd already cleaned himself up.) "Okay?" (Okay.) "Gimme your arm... No, wait... We're going over to the upline. I'm leading." He signals back. "Gimme your arm." (Tug-tug.) We swim.
"(Hey... Guess what... You're exactly where you started in the water column!)"
I had not "corked." I couldn't believe it! I think I failed at "pretty," but I'd done it. I did it. I did it! I could do this!
MHK motioned that it was time for us to do our valve drills. I watched Claudia do hers with an Olympic effort. It took her maybe ten full minutes to do the thirty second drill. She never gave up, though, and I felt proud to know someone who was so willing to put forth so much effort. She did it, too. Took forever, but she did it. She was successful. I could see the disappointment in her eyes; it was obvious she felt like a hopeless case, but I didn't see that at all. I admired the fact that she did every step, as painful as it was for her to do. I saw before me a small woman with mighty courage. I almost quit yesterday. She was my hero.
I have to tell y'all about MHK and his commitment to his students. There's been ugly rumors before on the 'net about GUE instructors "turning off" valves and such on students, just to test them to see what they'd do. They've been criticized in the past for this action, and told that the practice was unsafe. Let me be perfectly clear on this: The rumor that any GUE instructor has ever turned off a student's valve is complete hogwash. Instead, let me tell you the truth about what I saw: MHK hovered perfectly over Claudia, his fingers just inches from her valves, ready to supply her air the moment she gave up. She was diving doubles, and so had a series of three separate valves to go through. She'd turn one off first, and then turn it back on. Then she'd do the second... Off, then on again. Then the last. She was never without air supply, and even if she had been, MHK was never more than a tenth of a second from gettin' those valves back on. His complete awareness - and his perfect trim - were nothing less that applaudable. Never believe anyone that tells you that GUE instructors place their students in danger. This man's focus... His passion... His reason for being... Was to ensure diver safety. I was so impressed.
When Claudia finished, I applauded. Her tired eyes looked at me with a glimmer of accomplishment, and I could see that she was smiling under all of that gear.
MHK motioned for me to situate myself near a corner of the underwater platform to perform my drill. I felt almost like I was cheating, since I only had one valve on my single AL80. I muscled my way into position, and got trimmed. I was a little floaty, but not too bad. Later I found out that at some point, MHK had dumped about five pounds of air out of my BC without me even knowing it. This was clearly a skill I had not yet mastered.
Just before telling me to commence the drill, I clapped my hands together, rubbed them together, and shook my fists. I stretched my shoulders and neck. Later in the video of ourselves (I wasn't even aware that there was a camera down there with us this time) it was very obvious that I'd done a little "psyche-up" for myself. I wasn't kidding around. When I saw that in the video, I was very proud of myself. Most of the class thought it was mildly amusing, but I beamed with the fact that I had not given up.
My gear configuration was exactly the same as yesterday. I'd said to MHK and Andrew that I wanted to make some changes, but when I was unable to, I took an interesting attitude about it. "Well, if I don't change anything and I do better today, then I'll see that my skills have improved... In one day. I'd like nothing more than to kick this in the ass."
My trim was good. I was balanced. Luckily, because of yesterday's head/valve incident, I'd taken much better care to place the tank correctly. Now, I was going to reap the benefits. I reached back... But could not find my valve. MHK disappeared over my shoulder, ensuring my safety.
I bent my knees... Looked down at the ground... And that gave my body some tilt. I reached back further and felt the valve with my fingertips. I wasn't kidding around any more. I grabbed that valve and pulled it forward over my head with the same intensity that I'd thrown that tank yesterday. The palm of my hand fell perfectly on my valve, and I rolled it off like a pro. Without removing my hand, I breathed down the reg and turned the valve back on. Perfect. And I didn't lose bouyancy. Take that, self-doubt!
A thousand fans cheered in my mind. I was a Roman Gladiator who'd just fallen the enemy. Roses were being thrown to me from hundreds of beautiful women in the stands. I don't think that anyone else was as impressed with my drill as I was. They'd seen it done much better before. But that didn't matter to me. I'd shut up my biggest critic.
Emotionally exhausted, we made our way out of the water and into the dive shop's classroom, where we watched a review of what we'd done. "Much better than yesterday," the students agreed. "We still have a lot to work on, and none of us feel like we're competent yet, but we've got some understanding and a lot of practice to do." We were all in agreement... But I don't think I could express how much the tiny little victory had meant to me. I had more now than ever that I needed to work on, but I'd proven to myself that I could do it if I was determined enough. Practice will make perfect. I believe that. It's what Andrew and MHK believe, too.
I made sure I was the last to leave the quarry. MHK and Andrew had a plane to catch, and Jim was responsible for getting them there. Goodbyes were very quick, and Jim, I am sorry if I was rude to you in the dive shop. I had a lot of "stuff" going on in there, if you know what I mean. In all, though, we said very brief goodbyes and they were all on their way.
And now I was left to be alone with the water in an almost spiritual kind of way. I like that a lot sometimes.
I lit up a smoke, as DIR teaches you not to do. I'd been wanting to do this for a while now. Man, I gotta give these things up. Then I headed into the dive shop and asked for another tank and a jacket BC. I was going to remind myself why it is that I do this to myself.
Against every policy in the book, and against any sort of reason at all, I went for a solo dive. I'd purposely stayed as the last remaining diver so that I could do this. Lecture me now, I don't care.
I made my way along the surface with a jacket BC, console, and a short hose. When I got to the buoy for the sunken sailboat (with sails still up) I deflated my BC and felt the chilly waters once again embrace my body. I wondered if I was coming back.
In 70 feet of water, I turned my very non-DIR PCa Ikelight on and shined it on the hull of the boat. I checked depth, air, and buoyancy. How do people function with these things? How did I?
I made a short, hovering swim over the hull of the boat. Yeah, this is what I love... The almighty shipwreck. My mind contemplated what an emergency swimming ascent would be like from 70 feet. This is a really stupid way to dive.
I fully circled the boat, and remained five feet or more off of the bottom the whole time. I used a standard from-the-hip flutter kick, like we're taught in PADI I, and was disappointed (and not surprised) to see that even at five feet, a flutter kick with my big Mares Quattros silted up everything terribly.
I found a line heading away from the boat, and took it. I hovered a foot off of the line, following it strictly with my eyes. My buoyancy had never been so good. My breathing was slow, controlled, and deliberate.
A few yards away, I found an overturned schoolbus. All of the windows and doors had been removed from it, so I did a quick swim-through. Being in that bus in 70 feet of water... Very alone... Made some pretty eerie feelings run through me. As I passed the doomed driver's seat, I touched the steering wheel and gearshift. The hair on the back of my neck stood up when I thought about the fact that this bus may not have been put there on purpose. Creepy.
Just eight minutes into my dive, I was feeling like it was time to leave. Diving non-DIR was never going to feel the same again. I made my way back to the boat and found another line leading back to the docks. I followed and had the treat of seeing several wrecked cars, boats, and diver obstacle courses along the way. Pretty neat stuff, really. I missed getting to share it with someone.
I spent a minute at 30 feet, just for safekeeping. The cummerbund on the jacket was preventing me from taking a really good, deep breath. At 20, I spent another minute, this time stopping to see if I could maintain trim and buoyancy in a jacket. Trim was completely out, and I was either vertical or "turtled" on my back. I can't understand what I ever saw in these things. Ten feet, a minute, and then the sun hit my face.
At the surface, I had a tired but appropriate smile on my face. The dive shop owner asked me, "How was the dive?"
"Well, I survived," I said. I meant it in many more ways than he understood.
The dive was a great reminder... And a very timely one... To myself on why I dive. I'm really glad I did it.
...But that's the last time I dive like that.
This time the whole group of us met over at yet another Waffle House. There was lots of conversation, but I don't remember much of it. Andrew was chowin' on a big plate of hash browns. I asked him if he ate eggs. "Hey, if you want to eat a chicken's period, go for it," was his reply. Normally, I'd have laughed and teased him back; but the previous day's performance weighed heavily on my mind, and I didn't see that today was going to be much different. I had to change my attitude, or I was going to be done for. Too bad I was too beat up to care.
We caravaned over to the dive site, this time just a few miles up the road. I stole another smoke on the way up, and tried to talk some sense into myself. "Cut it out, man. This is your thing. You'll be fine." Yeah, nothing like looking in the rear view mirror and seeing you talking to yourself. Major doubt really begins to set in when you realize that you're talking to yourself.
When I got out of the car and realized that I'd 'bout froze yesterday when we were diving in the late afternoon - and today we'd be diving in the chilly morning - my heart sank. Then I realized that I was dreading diving. I think about diving all the time. I love this sport. What was wrong with me that I was dreading diving? It was just all wrong.
More as an act of desperation than anything else, I decided that today I'd take a different approach. I was really trying to be good at these new skills, and sacrificing any skill I had already learned for those. No way, man. Today, I was going to focus on diving... On staying down there and on not worrying about the fact that I was being watched. Yes, I was concerned about form. Yes, I was concerned about doing it right. Yes, I wanted to learn. But in the face of such a disaster yesterday, it was time to return to the basics. (Isn't that what I was doing anyway?)
Let's dive. A smile came over my face.
We briefed on what the day's dives had in store for us. There were more dry runs, and we were shown the proper way to shoot a lift bag. Very cool indeed! I wanted to do that, and I will at some point. But this day MHK made it clear that we still needed to work on bouyancy and our out of air drills. We were also going to demonstrate a "valve drill" today, where we would perform a complete valve shut-off and turn-on while maintaining bouyancy. "I can do this," I thought. Images of the previous day flashed before me.
This day I considered going back to my 3/2 mil O'Neill. MHK had had 3/2 on yesterday, and now was opting for a 7 mil. This northern-bred Long Islander had gotten cold yesterday. I couldn't imagine having yet another issue underwater, so I once again chose to rent a 5 mil.
After donning the suit, I asked the shop owner to point me to the showers. I was going to fill my suit with hot water this time. I filled my suit instead with water he'd put out specifically for this purpose - hot water in a cooler, with a large thermal coffee mug for dipping. Pouring it into my suit felt terrific. Entry into the quarry's chilled waters was much more bearable this time.
Underwater, I once again resumed perfect trim and buoyancy, again for about thirty seconds. When the sickening feeling of "corking" came up on me around thirty seconds, I broke all the rules and swam like hell back into position. I dumped a good bit of air out of my BC, too. I grabbed the railing of the underwater platform, muscled my way back into position, and then focused on the prone position. I wanted to tell MHK that I was sorry for leaving the position. I wanted to tell him that I was sorry I was such a lost cause. I wanted to tell him that I really could dive. But you know what? I hadn't "corked." I hadn't lost it. I got out of position, but at least I was still where I was supposed to be. It wasn't graceful, but I wasn't repeating yesterday.
MHK wasn't my biggest problem. I was. I wasn't pleased with this performance either, but the fact that I did not give up - and had done what it took to stay down - told my self-doubt, "Shut up and sit down; I can do this." Doing It Wrong wasn't the right way, but it beat not doing it at all. "I'll get this right yet," I thought.
I dumped a bit more air from my wing.
Our first step was to demonstrate an out of air drill. Like yesterday, I'd pretend to be out of air, and we'd rush to each other and demonstrate the correct deployment of the long hose. I signalled, and we rushed each other. This time my hands went right on her shoulders, and I pushed off of her so we wouldn't clunk heads. Again, not pretty, but effective. I'd decided to leave "pretty" until later.
We did much better this time... Although I went completely vertical during the drill, and she came after me, knowing that she was my air supply. She did everything right, I think... Again, not pretty, but right this time. It was a good starting point. Now if I could just control my buoyancy...
We were rounded up again, and this time MHK was going to pretend to be out of air. He was going to rely on me to save his life.
Sheesh.
Before I could argue, he signalled out of air. I didn't want to be the one to tell Andrew that I'd drowned our faithful instructor, so I rushed in and handed him the regulator that surely worked... The one in my mouth. I pushed off of his shoulder (again, not pretty, but effective) and began to unclip my SPG as the drill says.
"Oh yeah... Don't forget to switch to secondary," I thought...
"(Oh man, that's the wrong step... You've already BLOWN IT! You're a complete MORON!)"
"Shut up," I said to The Voice, and I began to breathe off of my secondary. Around that time I unhooked the long hose from around my neck. I was doing everything in the wrong order!
"(Noooooooo!)"
"Okay." (Two tugs to ensure that the hose is clear.) "Okay, SPG. Looks good." (Show him.) "Looks good." (Clip it off again.)
"(Hey, that was easier than before.)"
"MHK, here's the extra hose." (He'd already cleaned himself up.) "Okay?" (Okay.) "Gimme your arm... No, wait... We're going over to the upline. I'm leading." He signals back. "Gimme your arm." (Tug-tug.) We swim.
"(Hey... Guess what... You're exactly where you started in the water column!)"
I had not "corked." I couldn't believe it! I think I failed at "pretty," but I'd done it. I did it. I did it! I could do this!
MHK motioned that it was time for us to do our valve drills. I watched Claudia do hers with an Olympic effort. It took her maybe ten full minutes to do the thirty second drill. She never gave up, though, and I felt proud to know someone who was so willing to put forth so much effort. She did it, too. Took forever, but she did it. She was successful. I could see the disappointment in her eyes; it was obvious she felt like a hopeless case, but I didn't see that at all. I admired the fact that she did every step, as painful as it was for her to do. I saw before me a small woman with mighty courage. I almost quit yesterday. She was my hero.
I have to tell y'all about MHK and his commitment to his students. There's been ugly rumors before on the 'net about GUE instructors "turning off" valves and such on students, just to test them to see what they'd do. They've been criticized in the past for this action, and told that the practice was unsafe. Let me be perfectly clear on this: The rumor that any GUE instructor has ever turned off a student's valve is complete hogwash. Instead, let me tell you the truth about what I saw: MHK hovered perfectly over Claudia, his fingers just inches from her valves, ready to supply her air the moment she gave up. She was diving doubles, and so had a series of three separate valves to go through. She'd turn one off first, and then turn it back on. Then she'd do the second... Off, then on again. Then the last. She was never without air supply, and even if she had been, MHK was never more than a tenth of a second from gettin' those valves back on. His complete awareness - and his perfect trim - were nothing less that applaudable. Never believe anyone that tells you that GUE instructors place their students in danger. This man's focus... His passion... His reason for being... Was to ensure diver safety. I was so impressed.
When Claudia finished, I applauded. Her tired eyes looked at me with a glimmer of accomplishment, and I could see that she was smiling under all of that gear.
MHK motioned for me to situate myself near a corner of the underwater platform to perform my drill. I felt almost like I was cheating, since I only had one valve on my single AL80. I muscled my way into position, and got trimmed. I was a little floaty, but not too bad. Later I found out that at some point, MHK had dumped about five pounds of air out of my BC without me even knowing it. This was clearly a skill I had not yet mastered.
Just before telling me to commence the drill, I clapped my hands together, rubbed them together, and shook my fists. I stretched my shoulders and neck. Later in the video of ourselves (I wasn't even aware that there was a camera down there with us this time) it was very obvious that I'd done a little "psyche-up" for myself. I wasn't kidding around. When I saw that in the video, I was very proud of myself. Most of the class thought it was mildly amusing, but I beamed with the fact that I had not given up.
My gear configuration was exactly the same as yesterday. I'd said to MHK and Andrew that I wanted to make some changes, but when I was unable to, I took an interesting attitude about it. "Well, if I don't change anything and I do better today, then I'll see that my skills have improved... In one day. I'd like nothing more than to kick this in the ass."
My trim was good. I was balanced. Luckily, because of yesterday's head/valve incident, I'd taken much better care to place the tank correctly. Now, I was going to reap the benefits. I reached back... But could not find my valve. MHK disappeared over my shoulder, ensuring my safety.
I bent my knees... Looked down at the ground... And that gave my body some tilt. I reached back further and felt the valve with my fingertips. I wasn't kidding around any more. I grabbed that valve and pulled it forward over my head with the same intensity that I'd thrown that tank yesterday. The palm of my hand fell perfectly on my valve, and I rolled it off like a pro. Without removing my hand, I breathed down the reg and turned the valve back on. Perfect. And I didn't lose bouyancy. Take that, self-doubt!
A thousand fans cheered in my mind. I was a Roman Gladiator who'd just fallen the enemy. Roses were being thrown to me from hundreds of beautiful women in the stands. I don't think that anyone else was as impressed with my drill as I was. They'd seen it done much better before. But that didn't matter to me. I'd shut up my biggest critic.
Emotionally exhausted, we made our way out of the water and into the dive shop's classroom, where we watched a review of what we'd done. "Much better than yesterday," the students agreed. "We still have a lot to work on, and none of us feel like we're competent yet, but we've got some understanding and a lot of practice to do." We were all in agreement... But I don't think I could express how much the tiny little victory had meant to me. I had more now than ever that I needed to work on, but I'd proven to myself that I could do it if I was determined enough. Practice will make perfect. I believe that. It's what Andrew and MHK believe, too.
I made sure I was the last to leave the quarry. MHK and Andrew had a plane to catch, and Jim was responsible for getting them there. Goodbyes were very quick, and Jim, I am sorry if I was rude to you in the dive shop. I had a lot of "stuff" going on in there, if you know what I mean. In all, though, we said very brief goodbyes and they were all on their way.
And now I was left to be alone with the water in an almost spiritual kind of way. I like that a lot sometimes.
I lit up a smoke, as DIR teaches you not to do. I'd been wanting to do this for a while now. Man, I gotta give these things up. Then I headed into the dive shop and asked for another tank and a jacket BC. I was going to remind myself why it is that I do this to myself.
Against every policy in the book, and against any sort of reason at all, I went for a solo dive. I'd purposely stayed as the last remaining diver so that I could do this. Lecture me now, I don't care.
I made my way along the surface with a jacket BC, console, and a short hose. When I got to the buoy for the sunken sailboat (with sails still up) I deflated my BC and felt the chilly waters once again embrace my body. I wondered if I was coming back.
In 70 feet of water, I turned my very non-DIR PCa Ikelight on and shined it on the hull of the boat. I checked depth, air, and buoyancy. How do people function with these things? How did I?
I made a short, hovering swim over the hull of the boat. Yeah, this is what I love... The almighty shipwreck. My mind contemplated what an emergency swimming ascent would be like from 70 feet. This is a really stupid way to dive.
I fully circled the boat, and remained five feet or more off of the bottom the whole time. I used a standard from-the-hip flutter kick, like we're taught in PADI I, and was disappointed (and not surprised) to see that even at five feet, a flutter kick with my big Mares Quattros silted up everything terribly.
I found a line heading away from the boat, and took it. I hovered a foot off of the line, following it strictly with my eyes. My buoyancy had never been so good. My breathing was slow, controlled, and deliberate.
A few yards away, I found an overturned schoolbus. All of the windows and doors had been removed from it, so I did a quick swim-through. Being in that bus in 70 feet of water... Very alone... Made some pretty eerie feelings run through me. As I passed the doomed driver's seat, I touched the steering wheel and gearshift. The hair on the back of my neck stood up when I thought about the fact that this bus may not have been put there on purpose. Creepy.
Just eight minutes into my dive, I was feeling like it was time to leave. Diving non-DIR was never going to feel the same again. I made my way back to the boat and found another line leading back to the docks. I followed and had the treat of seeing several wrecked cars, boats, and diver obstacle courses along the way. Pretty neat stuff, really. I missed getting to share it with someone.
I spent a minute at 30 feet, just for safekeeping. The cummerbund on the jacket was preventing me from taking a really good, deep breath. At 20, I spent another minute, this time stopping to see if I could maintain trim and buoyancy in a jacket. Trim was completely out, and I was either vertical or "turtled" on my back. I can't understand what I ever saw in these things. Ten feet, a minute, and then the sun hit my face.
At the surface, I had a tired but appropriate smile on my face. The dive shop owner asked me, "How was the dive?"
"Well, I survived," I said. I meant it in many more ways than he understood.
The dive was a great reminder... And a very timely one... To myself on why I dive. I'm really glad I did it.
...But that's the last time I dive like that.
ScubaDan
Guest
Thanks for the third day, glad to hear you did better.
Dryglove
Contributor
Once again thanks for the great report i really enjoyed it
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