Generic running updates thread -or- "Going Pro's Goings Prose"

[ClayJar]

Okay, so it's not exactly last Monday anymore. It's been a long week after a long weekend, so I'm cutting myself some slack. :biggrin: Anyway, let's see... where did I leave off again?

So, my brother (on his basic checkout) and I headed out Thursday evening to head over to Vortex. Wouldn't you know, we hit not one iota of traffic the entire way. I did find out that I don't like driving my parents' Tracker (which feels like it's constantly about to tip over, at least compared to my Tib... plus, the Tracker doesn't have cruise control). We made it to the exit 96 rest area with *lots* of time to spare, so it was nap time (and might I add, that thing's *very* uncomfortable compared to my Tib).

Anyway, we drove up the road to Vortex right around opening time, which put us *well* ahead of everyone else. After pulling the gear out and handling everything there was to do, we headed over to test the water (by leaping from the platform over by the slide, of course :biggrin. Gradually, people started showing up, so I mostly sat around chatting and helping out with whatever questions or procedures were relevant.

Eventually, my instructor showed up (well, I had to share his instructing skill with a basic group, too ), and we knocked off the last little bit of watermanship skills that I had left on our shop's DM skills list. Apparently, I did at least one or two of them with even more difficulty than he would have asked, but it would've been too easy his way. (We have a tradition of letting me ask for enhanced requirements, hehe.)

Once we'd done the couple quick skills for me, the bulk of the students were arriving. There was all the usual watching for problems, putting mouthpieces on regulators, and so on. Some hassles were present (paperwork and dividing the group of 30-some students among the instructors), but they were nothing with which I could have helped. (In the future, however, I know a few things to casually ask the people in charge, just in case they've left anything out.)

We did an introductory briefing (the "Welcome to Vortex"/checkout weekend overview), and then we split into our groups to do specific briefings. We had one instructor with advanced, master, and rescue students, plus three instructors with basic students. I was assigned to my DM instructor's group, for whom I did the briefing for the introductory snorkel and skills dive. I had notes, and it was much less intimidating this time.

Did I mention that we had a bunch of young (college-age, I assume) spearfishing freedivers in the group with which I was working? We did. One of them in particular had basically zero attention span whatsoever. (Okay, it was probably about 1.3 seconds.) The rest weren't that bad, but they did seem to be enjoying themselves quite a bit.

Anyway, we did the snorkel dive, and after a quick trip back up to don tanks and regulators, it was back into the (oddly colder) water for the first scuba dive. It went pretty much the way you'd expect. Almost everyone cleared their masks without even a second thought. Of course, one guy had an issue. He started trying to bolt (rather slowly, actually... go figure) but was controlled by the instructor and pulled himself together. He then signaled that he still wanted to go to the surface.

I suppose it was a good thing that I'd caught the buoy, which had come untied when the group was descending, and reattached it, eh? While they were up at the surface, I moved more to the foreground so nobody would start to feel apprehensive at being "left behind". A person or two looked a bit uneasy, so I asked their pressure and exchanged okays, which seemed to do the trick. It was only a few moments, really, before the instructor and student were back down, but to a new diver sitting there, it can feel rather longer.

We actually didn't seem to have any significant buoyancy issues among our group. I wouldn't say that I "expect" them, but yeah, I probably do (at least in the beginning). Vortex was also not nearly as crowded this time (on a Friday) than it had been the last times I'd been (on the weekend), and the viz stayed quite respectable the whole time we were there... except around the concrete platform, where one of the other groups were camped out a while.

I saw my brother once as our group passed by. I gently (but firmly) punched the bottom of his foot pocket, which got his attention. (It's not a feeling you get by kicking things or having people run into you, so I figured he'd know it was a person, likely me. It worked.)

Everything basically went according to plan, and one part of the plan was that when our group did their CESAs, I would send the students to the instructor in order of remaining air. That's always fun. As I also had to perform a CESA, once everyone else was up, the instructor dropped back down once more for me. The way he does them, he verifies you're okay and ready, then he counts one, two, three inhales, and on the third, you "blow and go".

He held up the first finger while I inhaled, and then I exhaled completely normally. Of course, for me, that's apparently a bit longer than most of the students. :biggrin: He had a somewhat bemused look of mock impatience by the time I inhaled the second time (getting two fingers in return). Again, I exhaled completely as normal, with him fidgeting the third finger as it went long. When I would have normally inhaled the third breath, I couldn't help but pause and then blow a big burst of bubbles and a huge smile, which got a hilarious reaction. Then I inhaled breath three and began my ascent, exhaling all the way. Of course, as it wasn't like I was doing a CESA from 60 feet or anything, I went slowly. I think he was about ready to hit my inflator by the time I was almost up.

Anyway, we finished up at Vortex and gave the post-Vortex briefing, and then it was time for me to rush down to Panama City to check in to the hotel and get to the boat for a night dive. The night dive was a trip. With one certified diver, three advanced/master students, the instructor, and I, space was certainly not at a premium. :biggrin: The instructor was under instructions to role play as a basic student (and a remedial one, at that, and on a night dive to boot), leaving the requisite briefings and such to me (on top of having to deal with him). After we'd buddied everyone up and I'd worked through most of his issues, he declared that complete and went back to knowing what he was doing (*phew*! ).

We ended up going to the old schooner in the bay, max depth about 26 feet. Viz was pretty good, I thought, although the other people thought it was *terrible* (which was a function of what viz they were used to coupled with the fact that they did not use non-silting techniques), and it wasn't too cold. One guy couldn't figure out how to set his computer correctly (I located the answer when I got back and let the shop call him and explain it), but everything basically went well. Of course, with all the stirring up of the bottom that the others had done, coupled with the significant current and not exactly warm water, three of the divers decided they didn't want to do a second dive. The fourth decided to go along with them, so I went along as well. (I had a tank that'd be good for another two hours or so on the wreck, but I wasn't going to force them all to stay. Que sera.)

So, Saturday morning rolls around at last. I showed up bright and early at the dive shop to find a decent group of our people already there. Additionally, the shop had been told that we didn't need any fills for the morning dive. Normally, that would indeed be the case, but we had run out of rental tanks, so we were short a few. The shop quickly started filling a few tanks so we'd have enough for the morning (thanks, guys). As for the waiting group, our checkout was split between two boats (due to size and scheduling) and nobody knew who was supposed to be where. Well, I didn't know who was supposed to be on which boat, but I certainly knew which pairs of instructors would be together, so I just wrote the instructors' names on the top of the two sheets and got everyone signing. (Of course, when they arrived, I checked that they were fine with the boats I'd randomly selected. They could have always just swapped the checkmarks, eh? )

The weather wasn't bad at all, but apparently nobody told me that. I was beginning to feel rather queasy almost as soon as the engines stopped once we were tied in. Not much I could do about it at that point. I was assigned to follow behind the first group, catch my group's divers at 15' (so they could do a shallow mask clearing with the instructor once they were all in), and then basically fly CAP, more or less. That's about how the dive started.

We were on Bridge Span 14, tied in to a corner of the offshore end. The other boat with people from our LDS came and tied in to the opposite corner of the same span (Danger, Will Robinson!). Our group, at least, was doing pretty well, and we were basically trailing the first group from our boat. We made it basically to the other end, when the instructor I was working with changed things up a bit.

I'd just looked down to see a couple students from the first group down almost to the road deck (which was about 12-15 feet below their planned depth), but basically as I was retrieving them to bring them back onto the top of the span, my instructor signaled me basically, "Four. Those buddies, those buddies. You watch. You take, four, those. That way." It took a moment for me to fully understand what he was asking me to do (take these four divers and help their instructor manage them and get them back to the anchor line, and so on), but I figured that out basically as I went (I knew that they had to be nearing their plan time, so wrapping up their dive was the only logical thing with which I'd be assisting their instructor).

We had an uneventful exit... more or less. They all did, and I had nothing significant happen. I merely paused for a few moments just after I broke the surface. (It was the polite thing to do, as hurling on deck is messy. ) Once the episode was over, I joined the rest of them on deck as we all swapped tanks. It was decided that we'd just stay on the span for the second dive instead of moving.

For the second dive, I was reassigned. I would be helping the other instructor, instead, as his divers could use the hand more than my instructor's divers needed it. Not a problem, of course; that's what I'm there for. Now, the fact that I had already lost whatever may have been left of the morning's bagel wasn't exactly a net positive, but hey, them's the breaks, eh? The plan was to let me get in the water first, and we'd join up underwater.

I didn't last that long. Just as I was about to giant stride, it was decided for me that I would spend a moment verifying the lack of any remaining bagel. I calmly dropped to one knee to genuflect to the seas. I was just about to tell the instructors that I couldn't make the dive and be responsible for others when my brother saved the day.

You see, he had set his fins (which are actually *my* fins) on the bench while he geared up. Right about that moment, a rouge wave crashed over the deck and... um... Okay, honestly, if the boat was hit by a wave, it was a rather minuscule one. Regardless, one of his (my) fins chose that moment to slide off the bench into the water.

Well, with me in the gate and nobody else in a position to leap in to catch the fin before it sailed to the bottom (and possibly some distance away), the course was clear. Either I went in *right* *then* after it, or his dive was at the very least delayed and quite possibly lost. (Oh, and it was *my* fin, too. I *like* that fin.) With no other option available, I grabbed the rail and flung myself into the water toward the stern. I caught the fin just under the water near the surface (thankfully, it had landed flat *and* right across the line leading to the anchor line, which stalled its descent a second or two). I immediately surfaced, handed the fin up to one or more of the reaching hands, signaled a quick (and large) OK!, and headed down on the dive.

I slowed my descent to a crawl once I got to the anchor line, and within a minute or two, the first students in our group had reached me. We all continued down to the span, where we began the bottom portion of the dive. As per the instructor, I basically stayed close to my brother's buddy, as he was the one who had the most... interestingness... on the first dive. It wasn't long before my first opportunity to intervene arrived.

I don't know how overweighted the guy was (I hadn't worked with him previously, obviously), but he was certainly not underweighted. He was also basically standing-up-straight vertical in the water. Naturally, he started rising up from the span, and to his credit, he immediately got his inflator hose and dumped some air. His problem was that he was also kicking (unbeknownst to himself), which immediately informed me as to what his root problem was and how to help him.

They say you can't teach underwater, and that is certainly true in the general case. If you're trying to teach someone air sharing underwater, I *definitely* don't want anyone I care about learning from you. That said, you *can* do a little bit. Show and repeat for very basic concepts works underwater, and you may even be able to associate a hand signal with a procedure.

Anyway, so I saw him rising in the water column and trying to dump air to arrest the ascent, and I saw his fins kicking just enough to be a problem. If he dumps enough air to make himself negative enough to arrest his ascent, he'll be negative when he gets back to his original depth (even without the kicking). When you add in the thrust from the kicking, it turns into a roller coaster. Add until you go up, dump until you get down, but never arrive at neutral.

 

[ClayJar]

Of course, there's a very simple way to get off the coaster. When you start rising, dump some air, but then *swim* down to where you were. If you still start floating up, repeat. The basic concept is precisely what any diver will do when faced with going over an obstacle too tall too manage with breathing alone -- you just swim back into your window of breathing-controllable buoyancy.

So, I'd diagnosed his problem and how to control it, but do I get it across? I did what anyone would do. I swam up to him, signaled [vertical hand, over the hill, heading down], and with exaggerated technique tipped over and swam down to the span (gesturing to follow me). He took a moment to follow (during which I repeated the signal and motions, beckoning him), but follow he did, ending back on the span with roughly neutral buoyancy.

If it were magic, that would've been the end of it, but this is real life. A minute or two later, he's rising again. I swam close, signaled the same as before, and demonstrated. He picked right up on it and followed, getting back in control right away this time. He was starting to get the hang of it, but not much later, he started rising again. This time, I didn't immediately go toward him (since he wasn't rising rapidly... yet ), but instead, I merely gave the signal to tip over and swim back to control. He followed the procedure as I'd shown it earlier, and there he was back under control at the span.

I may have had to use the signal once or twice more on that dive. I don't recall precisely, as after that point, he was actually *diving* (as opposed to merely being underwater). I watched as he started to rise a couple times but caught himself before getting out of control. The little demo had apparently explained in practice what he hadn't internalized from class, and it helped him tremendously. At the beginning of the dive, I was figuring that I might have to spend the whole dive wrangling, but after a few introductory minutes, he was doing so well, I had time to start finding blennies and arrow crabs and other cool critters to point out to him. He had a *much* better time once he'd learned how to control himself.

(We, meaning ScubaBoarders and others who know, really need to talk up how much more *enjoyable*, *relaxing*, and *fun* things like proper weighting, buoyancy, and trim can make diving. I don't know how many times I've heard a diver complaining about cramps or being tired after a dive, and even though it's obvious that the reason is their trim, I haven't known how to bring that up in positive way. There's got to be a way to help these people who don't know how much help they really do need. I'll have to keep working on that.)

So, that was basically the end of Saturday's diving. (Hehe, I got on the boat, stowed my gear on the bench, and walked toward the port-side gate. One of the firefighters there as a basic student asked me if I was okay. I cheerfully answered, "Yeah, I'm great, but I won't be in a minute. :biggrin:" Sure enough, about a minute later, I was checking for any more bagel, just in case I missed any.) One diver was *ruthlessly* seasick and hadn't made the dives (I empathized, of course, but what can you do?), but other than that, everyone did well. I even managed to break down my gear and bag it... once the boat was heading back in.

Sunday's diving was more fun, all around. The seasick student from the day before decided to try again next time, but even with a couple people gone, we had thirty-three signed divers on the roll-call sheet. It was, shall we say, slightly packed. We had all the tank spaces along the benched completely full, plus the "tank box" (I think that's three rows of six), plus a few stowed under the benches, for a total of 69 tanks on the boat (for us, that is; the crew had one or two on the bow). I was again diving with the instructor I'd ended with on the previous day.

We started off by heading over to Bridge Span 6, as the captain said we should get better viz over there. I'd never been on span six before, nor had anyone in our 33 people, as far as I know. Span 14 is near the Bart, and spans 1 and 2 (half collapsed) are near Strength (as is span 12, but I've never done that one), so those are the three that I'd been on. I figured there would likely be a bit of monofilament, but I really had no idea exactly what we'd find. Turns out, I'd be among the first to know.

The certified divers went in, and then it was our group (first of the three basic groups). The instructor splashed first, then the first of our three buddy pairs, and then I hit the water to be ready for my brother and his buddy. Shortly after the guy entered, I saw a weight belt start its plummet. I *almost* managed to catch it, but I ended up being about half a kick too slow, so I handed off to the instructor and headed sandward.

The cool thing is that I got to see the rather large barracuda that was checking us out. The less cool thing is that his weight belt weighed quite a bit. Quite a bit, indeed. I thought about pulling my lift bag and just sending it to the surface on my spool, but I didn't figure they'd be expecting that. Finally, I just grabbed it and kicked hard to get to the top of the span (there was almost no current, so with the anchor line almost vertical, the tie-in was almost right above me). I was going to bring it back up to him, when I looked over... *YIPE!*, the guy was right there, about 40 feet below the surface, having just pulled himself hand-over-hand down the anchor line! (I made a point to tell him that next time, just wait and we'll bring it up, as it's dangerous to be that deep and unweighted.)

We got his belt back on, and the dive went off without any further hitches. There was indded an amazing amount of monofilament strewn all over the place. I spent most of the dive watching my divers while chopping fishing line left and right. (I had a rather significant ball of line by the time the ascent was upon us, so I signaled my brother over and jammed it into his BC pocket. :biggrin: What are brothers for, eh?) Once we were at safety stop depth, I signaled to my brother and his buddy to come with me, and we swam at 15 feet from the anchor line to the deco bar hanging below the back of the boat. (With 33 people, the anchor line was going to be a bit crowded in a minute.) While I was there, I even got to do some stationary buddy breathing with *my* instructor.

On the surface interval, we moved to Stage II. Whatever current had not been at span six was no longer unaccounted for. It was at Stage II. Sure, it was probably in the quarter-knot to half-knot range, but that's nothing to sneeze at (or swim into, if one can avoid it). Thankfully, I wasn't even the least bit seasick (having apparently so thoroughly completed that specialty the previous day that Neptune himself decided he'd call off the dogs).

While we were on the surface interval, I got to work a rescue with the rescue student, who was just slow enough in deploying that he had a considerable surface tow just to get back to the trail buoy to let us pull him in. We did a full egress from the water, which gave me a chance to call a quick (and urgent) pause in the middle of the proceedings. You see, even if you've simulated dropping their weight belt, it's still a good idea to *actually* remove it before removing their well-inflated BC. (I imagine drowning your victim means you don't pass your rescue checkout, wouldn't you say?) Anyway, we did a debriefing, and then I donned my gear to join my group, which was already on the site.

Well, a funny thing happened on the way to the gate. I heard them telling a diver to go with the next group, and they'd find his intructor on the bottom and hand him off there. Yep. You guessed it. It was my brother's buddy back on the boat, now sporting the shop owner's backup weight belt (the guy's own belt being somewhere else, entirely). I spoke up and claimed my diver, and in we went. Of course, when he took a minute to follow, I headed along the line toward the back of the boat. There he was, the line wrapped around one elbow, getting his weight belt back on and buckled. (That's why we tell people to hold their SPG against the buckle, I'd say. Thankfully, he hadn't lost this one.)

With his replacement weight belt securely fastened, we pulled ourselves over to the anchor line and headed down to catch up with the rest of our group. Of course, Stage II generally has questionable viz, relatively speaking, and if you've never been on it, the best description is "a former Navy platform, decommissioned and reduced to a jumble of giant pick-up sticks". Normally, we're tied in right around the middle, but this time, we were tied in just about at the perimeter (I imagine the surface current had something to do with that).

By the time we got down, the always suspect visibility had been reduced *considerably* due to divers with poor technique stirring up the silty bottom. (By the way, don't think it's a bad dive just because it's a jumble and often has lower-than-elsewhere viz. I truly enjoy the site, and once you've been on it a few times, you can learn the lay of the land.) With my delay and the low viz (which wasn't really that bad, actually -- better than most quarries), I didn't really know which direction to go to find my group, so I did what any self-respecting leader would do: I guessed and signaled confidently.

Wouldn't you know, I guessed correctly. :biggrin: I called my brother over and gave him a wonderful reunion with his long-lost buddy (hehe), and then I basically just stuck around. On Sunday, we basically just observe and intervene as little as we can. The students have to plan and execute their dives, and we expect to see them communicating pressures and such things. The whole point of the class is to be able to dive as an independent buddy team. Of course, there's nothing wrong with asking a buddy for a bit of help, either, which they ended up doing.

I'd basically ended up with my brother and his buddy, with the instructor handling the other two pairs. My brother signaled he'd reached his ascent pressure, so we started back, but they didn't know exactly which way to get to the line. I had them ascend to the tops of the highest bits of the rubble and start swimming back in the direction of the anchor line, and sure enough, only moments later, there it was, gleaming in the water (with a nice brown silt layer below us, hehe).

Letting them find out about ascending a little to get above the murk was an excellent and well-received practical lesson, but since we started above the tie-in point, I didn't want the instructor wondering where we were. I saw him a few feet below, so I went down and tried to signal that my buddy pair were on the line heading up and to verify that the other two were ascending as well. Apparently, there's a language barrier somewhere, as I was unable to get the message across. (I've never had a problem saying the same sort of things to any of the other instructors with which I've worked, so I hadn't thought to go over anything with this one. He is new to instructing, so in hindsight, I probably should've thought to build at least a small lexicon.)

When it became apparent that he wasn't understanding me, I had to make a call. We couldn't both leave the ascending students, so I headed back to them. He went the other way. (He said afterward that he thought I said there were two left on the bottom. I have no idea how he got that out of my signals, so maybe he was a bit stressed from working with his first checkout class, which may have contributed some worries from which he could confuse my signals. Nobody's fault, but I think I'll pick up a wrist slate to preclude such confusion in the future.)

Anyway, I followed our group to the safety stop, but right about the time I was there, I had one more occasion to be slightly apprehensive. As I arrived, I saw my brother get with his buddy and start toward the deco bar. Now, sure, that's a great thing to do, and sure, the anchor line looked like a bee-ball. Still, with the surface current being as it was, and as *I* couldn't actually see the deco bar, heading off to it right then wasn't what I'd necessarily have done. I would probably have told them to wait while I find it, and once I get on it, I'll turn on my light and give you a target. That would reduce the likelihood of anyone missing the bar and ending up drifting away from the boat.

As there wasn't really anything else to do, I headed out with them, being sure to keep an eye on the hull, or at least the shadow of the hull. (I knew he wasn't, as he wasn't looking up.) We made it to the bar without incident, but I certainly breathed a bit easier once we were on it. Afterward, I made sure to tell my brother about the jellyfish incident moonbasket and I had on a dive on the Liberty Ship, and how losing sight of the hull can mean you're in for a rather less than relaxing swim into the current to get back even to the trail line. (He said he didn't see the bar or the boat at first, but that he caught sight of the boat once he heard the rumble from the generator. He also noted that he'll be sure not to lose sight of the hull, as yeah, a long surface swim would be rather less than wonderful. )

I stuck around on the deco bar with my light out for the other groups behind us, as it's always nice to have a reference to swim to, and I even got to do a little more stationary buddy breathing (with the donor/recipient reversed this time). Then it was back on the boat, and not long after, back underway toward the dock.

Once we were at the dock, we had everyone pull their gear and set it out of the way on the dock. Then, with the gear out of the way, it was time for one last tank line (like a fire brigade, but with cylinders of air instead of buckets of water). I don't think the young spearfishing guys really wanted to help, but I basically just placed them and gave them no choice (I got to be drill instructor for minute or two, hehe). It's amazing how much more smoothly you can get almost 70 tanks off a boat that way.

With everyone loading up their cars and heading out, I checked back in with my instructor to see what was left with which I could assist. There was nothing left. I then asked about what else I have remaining on his list of things for Divemaster. To that, as well, he answered that there was nothing left. He told me that I had completed the requirements and performed excellently the role of divemaster, both on this trip and the many other times I have contributed, and that all I had left to do was to come by the shop to do the paperwork.

I don't have a card or a number yet, but I have the pink copy of a completed membership application form.

And so, it begins.

 

[ClayJar]

Microupdate (compared to normal): Saw a charge last night, got an email this morning... from NAUI shipping!

:dancingsnoopy:​

 

[ClayJar]

So, my card arrived Friday. Yesterday, I got myself insured. Today, I became active status. Tonight, I was right back at the shop, assisting with the first night of another basic scuba class.

Guess I'll type more later, eh? Just had to be officially active-status-ly happy for a moment. :biggrin:

Oh, but one little tidbit first: This is another large class, so we have multiple people working it. One of the other divemasters who will be assisting was there helping tonight. He was the divemaster who assisted with *my* basic scuba class way back when.