1. mhbor...@gmail.com
Nov 28, 1:55 pm show options
Newsgroups: rec.scuba
From: mhbor...@gmail.com - Find messages by this author
Date: 28 Nov 2005 13:55:18 -0800
Local: Mon, Nov 28 2005 1:55 pm
Subject: A close encounter with death
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As conscientious divers it's our responsibility to share our most
harrowing experience so others can learn from our mistakes. It's alsoimportant to provide sufficient background information so that yourphysical and mental state may be adequately assessed, regardless of howembarassing it may be. Here's my story.
I've always been fascinated by dangerous, high risk activities. My
personal philosophy is best described by the words of German U-boatcommander, Eric Topp. "Life is a matter of risk and the chances ofsuccess are in no way enhanced by extreme caution." However, it wasthis reckless abandon, no regard for personal safety attitude that led me through several failed relationships, years of therapy, into suba diving, and eventually on a boat heading out for an open water encounter with enormous creatures weighing thousands of pounds and up to ten feet in length. Living every moment perilously close to the edge had become a passion, as well as an escape from my regular job as an accountant.
As the boat sliced through the still water I was only dimly aware of
the divemaster briefing the other divers on safety procedures and
animal behavior patterns. I concentrated on checking and rechecking each piece of equipment and mentally rehearsing my reaction to every possible emergency situation. This was serious business. There were no protective cages or margin for error. Everything had to be right.
As everyone started suiting up, I couldn't help but notice I was the
only one who was armed. While the others joked and loaded film into their cameras, I unsheathed my SMG multi-tipped pneumatic spear gun which I had named, Matilda, after a counselor I met at a alcohol rehabilitation center in northern Wisconsin. Matilda and I dated briefly during an extremely difficult time of my life. Eventually however, as with every other relationship I've had, she sucked the life out of me, robbed me of what remaining dignity I had, drove me to seek refuge in the bottle again, and then left me for dead. She was a dangerous woman so I named my SMG gun, the most formidable recreational undersea weapon ever invented, after her to remind me never to be caught off guard again.
As the boat slowed down I made the first in a series of mistakes that nearly cost me my life. I knew that the element of surprise may mean the difference between life and death, and I didn't want to be the one who was surprised. I stood poised at the edge of the deck gripping the railing with one hand and clutching Matilda with the other. All I could think of was me, the water, the animals, destiny, and eternity. Completely absorbed by the moment, and totally oblivious to the fact that the boat was still underway, I made a giant stride entry.
The impact knocked the wind out of me, ripped my mask and both fins off, tore my tank from my backpack and pulled the regulator out of my mouth - splitting my lip and dislodging several teeth in the process.
I struggled for a few moments, trying to catch my breath, before
realizing I had dropped Matilda. Instinctively, I reached for my laser
knife and quickly surveyed the area with a 360 degree turn. Although I couldn't see clearly without my mask, I instantly knew that my worst fear had been realized. I was completely surrounded.
I was terrified that the blood streaming from my mouth would throw the beasts into a feeding frenzy. Just as I was about to scream for help, the boat's wake rolled over my head, I swallowed water, and started choking uncontrollably. Somewhere in the process of regaining my composure, I dropped my knife. Now I was unarmed and completely at the mercy of a school of wild, aggressive, blood thirsty manatees.
Through the blur I could see at least six of the beasts. For a moment they appeared harmless - almost stupid. But then they slowly maneuvered into attack formation and I sensed they were about to strike. I did the only thing left for me to do, panic!
After a few moments of wildly thrashing about my instincts and training took over. If I was going to survive I had to take charge of the situation. Besides, if I had to die this way I was going to take at least one of the *******s with me.
I charged the closest manatee, straddled his back, placed one arm
around his thick neck, and squeezed. I couldn't help but notice the deep scars in his back, evidence of previous battles I assume. He immediately dived and rolled over on his back in a cunning but feeble attempt to throw me. As we plunged towards the bottom I expected to be gored (or whatever it is that manatees do to dispatch their prey) by the others at any moment. The cowards outnumbered me six to one and I
was completely defenseless. I remember wishing that I had my mask on so I could look my murderers in the eyes.
I couldn't continue to fight for long without air. I also knew that due to an apparent genetic mutation manatees are air breathers too. He probably needed air as bad as I did. As a last ditch effort, I dropped my weight belt, pulled both CO2 cartridges on my surplus UDT vest, and held on tight. We slowly started towards the surface, only ten feet away. Unfortunately, the seventy pounds I had gained after my most recent failed relationship finally caught up with me. Once inflated, my vest was much too tight and drastically restricted the blood flow to my brain. Inches away from the air we both needed so badly, we struggled desperately for our lives.
The last thing I remember is losing all peripheral vision and, for some unexplainable reason, thinking how unfortunate it was that I would never be able to finish the liquor in my decorative Elvis decanter. Then everything went black.
The next thing I knew I was in the boat lying on my back with an oxygen mask over my face. The divemaster, whom I specifically remember hearing refer to me as "that *******", said he thought that I may have embolized and that they were going to evacuate me by helicopter. I lacked the strength to tell him that I would have gladly preferred an air embolism over the horrifying experience I had just endured.
Apparently, the attack happened so fast no one saw what really
happened. By the time they turned the boat around and got back to the position where I had jumped off, I was floating on the surface unconscious.
I've spent hours analyzing the events of that day and have learned
several things. First, never believe advertisements in dive magazines. Some resort operators will do anything to convince you their operations
are safe. Second, never do a giant stride entry from a moving boat. A forward roll would probably work much better. Third, replace rubber mask and fin straps with stainless steel hose clamps. Forth, redundancy, redundancy, redundancy. Always carry a minimum of three means of self defense. Finally, life can be taken away in the blink of an eye - if there's any booze left in your Elvis decanter drink it now while you still have the chance.
