Lessons Most frightening moments

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After seeing how the post I wrote about the reverse block resonated with people, I would like to make another post today, namely about the most frightening moments I've ever had.

It's easy, particularly for novice divers, to think that people like myself, with decades of experience, thousands of dives and a deck of c-cards have everything under control and nothing bad ever happens.

I wrote about the reverse block because of that. I wanted to show that I am still human and I can still make mistakes. On the internet there is a strong tendency for (technical) divers and instructors with a lot of experience to project an image of themselves as always solving problems correctly, always making the best decisions, and in the case of instructors in particular, having a monopoly on good ideas that lead to perfect students diving perfectly.

None of that, of course, reflects reality at all.

So I will start. I urge experienced divers to share their own stories.

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First
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1985. I was certified as AOW and we were making a deep dive along a wall. The bottom, for all intents and purposes, at the bottom of the wall was unsurvivable. A diver who diving with a group slightly ahead of us got caught in a large ball of discarded fishing line that he didn't see. He started sinking. The incident started at 42 meters. My buddy and I had just started our dive and we saw this happening. Nobody in his group did. We went after him. This was the first time I had dived deeper than 42 meters. I couldn't tell how deep we were when we caught him because the (analogue) depth gauge I was using was pinned at its maximum depth. This was also my first deco dive or at least my first dive where I was "off the tables" and unable to to know how to ascend. I was, at that time, unaware of oxygen toxicity, gas management and ascent protocols. We returned (at a rapid pace) to 30ft. (10m) and waited there until our tanks were empty on the assumption that any damage done by our deep incursion would be fixed by that. Upon surfacing we didn't know if we were going to get the bends or not. I was, frankly, scared. It still gives me the heebiejeebies to think about this incident more than 30 years later. We did something there that was completely out of control (also the rescue) and we got off easy.

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Second
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2002, I think. I was working as a DM. We temporarily lost a diver during a dive. The situation was that we were on a platform at 25m and doing some exercises for the AOW (deep) dive. A group of divers (maybe 6) descending LANDED on us and kicked up so much silt in their attempts to slow down before impacting the bottom that the visibility went from 5m to black-out in a matter of seconds. I grabbed the two divers right in front of me and dragged them out of the silt cloud. One of them turned out to be our diver and the other one turned out to be one of the idiots who landed on us. We were missing a diver. We surfaced. Naturally our divers were told to surface if they became separated but this diver did not. He remained where he was and waited to be rescued. On the surface we decided that I would search for the missing diver because I had the most experience of everyone (including the instructor). At that point I was a DM but I was already technically trained. I had very limited time. I went back down and eventually found him but it was luck. He survived and my beard got grayer overnight. If I couldn't have found him in the next 5 min his death would have been on my conscience until I died. This was so frightening to me that I nearly abandoned all plans I had to become an instructor.

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Third
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The accident. My team saved the life of a diver who ran out of air during an AOW training dive (by another group, not mine) and was left for dead on the bottom at 18m. We acted quickly and professionally and got him into the hands of paramedics within about 10 min. As an aside, the fact that the Dutch paramedics were able to be on scene so quickly was no small part of this! He looked dead when we retrieved him. He lay in coma for several weeks after the incident. Doctors had basically written him off when -- unexpectedly to all -- he woke up and subsequently made a reasonable (albeit not full) recovery.

The impact on myself and on the members of my team was substantial, particularly because of what we viewed as our 'mistakes'. One diver (the DM) stopped diving. He started hyperventilating during the descent to find the "body" and after that he started to hyperventilate on EVERY dive. He stopped diving.

To me it changed EVERYTHING about how I view training and my role as an instructor. I didn't organize things on the surface as well as I could have, if I had had a second run at it. Yes, I had the EMS on site in 10 min. Police, paramedics, trauma doctor, helicopter, fire department with a boat, a private boat.... all of that I had..... but I was overwhelmed and not communicating as well as I could.

Someone tried to chase my (uncertified) OW students into the water to go search. He didn't know that they were uncertified and I ripped him a new one in a way that I regret, giving in to the emotion. An NOB (CMAS) instructor showed me by example how to control the dive site in a way I had never learned, I missed seeing a diver (the DM who caused the accident) displaying passive panic. It only became apparent to me when they had to take him away by ambulance when he collapsed.... it was MUCH more messy scene than I had ever imagined and I was not in control as well as I would expect from myself. At one point, once the EMS had control of the surface situation I grabbed another diver (a DM) and went searching myself. This was a mistake. I can't get over the mind set that drove me to ACT when I SHOULD have been coordinating! I'm like the guy who charges into a burning building because I can't fight the urge to DO SOMETHING! I HATE that about myself.

Since that time (it's been years) I've been replaying that event in my mind and thinking, "if I had only done XXXX then YYYY". It drives me CRAZY to think that if we were sharper we could have found him 30 seconds or a minute earlier and his recovery could have been better. The fact that he survived is utterly astounding. These things never end like that.... but I feel responsible for the fact that it took so long.

This was a formative moment in my diving. I considered stopping as well but eventually decided not not to. To this day I cannot -- and will not -- teach or participate in the Rescue course, even though I may be the one instructor in my circle who is most qualified to talk about the differences between theory and practice. It's just too intimidating.
 
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Your instructor, quite frankly, is an idiot and dangerous to an extent. What he did could have lead to a panic attack with an unsuspecting diver. You could easily have spat your reg out, made an uncontrolled ascent or kicked out - none of which have a happy ending when underwater.
.

I agree! :banghead:Afterwards, he said he thought I was having trouble descending (like I had in all other pool sessions).
Part of me was an idiot, too. I gave the OK signal because I wanted to say I was OK but I just wasn't ready to go down.

What's the hand signal to say "I'm ok - just give me a few mins "? (rather than rushing it)
 
What's the hand signal to say "I'm ok - just give me a few mins "? (rather than rushing it)

The right signal is "it's not ok". Since I am Italian, and I speak with my hands very often, I would also move my hands to signal "wait a minute" as If I were out of the water, but I am not sure if everyone would understand it
 
I would use "hold", possibly followed by "1" (or the number of minutes you need) for "stop for one minute while I sort this out"

In your instance a middle finger may also have been appropriate.

Hold:
handsignal-1.jpg
 
I agree! :banghead:Afterwards, he said he thought I was having trouble descending (like I had in all other pool sessions).
Part of me was an idiot, too. I gave the OK signal because I wanted to say I was OK but I just wasn't ready to go down.

What's the hand signal to say "I'm ok - just give me a few mins "? (rather than rushing it)
You got good advice, but the way to say you need a minute is to remain calm and just take that minute to sort out what you need to sort out. I have painfully slow equalization (not literally, now that I'm more careful with my descents) and I just keep signaling "not okay", "ears" slowly and calmly. OK is reserved for, "All systems are go for launch".
 
I agree! :banghead:Afterwards, he said he thought I was having trouble descending (like I had in all other pool sessions).
Part of me was an idiot, too. I gave the OK signal because I wanted to say I was OK but I just wasn't ready to go down.

What's the hand signal to say "I'm ok - just give me a few mins "? (rather than rushing it)

Why did he feel the need to pull you down even if you had been struggling to descend? Surely the better option would have been to ask the question rather than grab you.

The onus is on the instructor to make sure things are right - not you as a trainee. I would personally have given the waggled hand gesture demonstrated at 58 secs in to indicate a problem https://youtu.be/KRRvlTRWNsg?t=58. That should be enough to get your instructors attention. Once you have his attention if you just want a couple of minutes, point at your dive computer and indicate 2 or 3 with your fingers.

The signal that @OTF suggests would work just as well :)
 
We were diving a wreck at 30 meters (100 feet) at night.
I've dived that wreck at least 30 times - in fact I'd dived it the day before and that morning.
Its a straightforward dive.
Wreck anchored to buoy on surface. About four minutes by boat from the shore.
The wreck itself is small. About 8 meters (26 feet) wide by 50 meters long(165 feet).
You descend, do about two loops around it then explore the top. Then swim towards the mooring line and ascend.
On that night dive, we'd decided to enjoy the bioluminescence by turning our lights off midway through the ascent.
I should've prefaced this by saying there was no current that night. Visibility was great - about 10 meters (32 feet).
So we're at about 20 meters (65 feet) - we've all turned our lights off and the scene was magical.
No more than a minute later, and I know it was a minute because I wanted to see if I could get in a minute of safety stop at the same time (for safety, right). So I checked the time just as I turned the light off. Turned the light back on. Look around me. There's no one. Look up. No one. Look down. No one. Wheres the rope? Not in sight.
I then realize theres a current. I was ascending alongside the rope and obviously let go to shake and move my hands to agitate the bio. So I hadn't noticed there was a current. Ahh ****. Not an issue.
Plenty of air (plus the spare 30 cu ft tank), a fully charged 4500 lumen primary light, a 1500 lumen spare light and the 4300 LED light from my camera. I have an SMB. I know the boat will be on the lookout. Its dark and no boat traffic so even a candle can seen.

Check my compass so I can orient myself and pray the current is either taking me north or south or west. Because the coastline is serendipitously parallel to north/south. So if I'm headed north or south or west (towards the shore), its fine. But if the current was dragging me east - then mas no bueno. Because thats open ocean to Iran hah. Fortunately it was a solid north. Alright great. No issue. But I was a little worried because I couldn't gauge how fast/how far I was heading away from the boat.

No matter. I'll just ascend normally and do my safety stop.
About 5 meters higher on ascent, my arm and backside bump into a person. Their torso. You know that feeling when you smack a torso.
Sorta soft at first then firm. One of the best sensations on earth considering the tribulation I was going through. Yay, another human. I wasn't in a state of panic but its always nice reuniting, right?
As I turn around, with glee that I'd somehow managed to find my dive partners, I shine my light in that direction and I find myself face to face with a medium to large size barracuda. At least a meter and a half long - 4-5 feet.
It was was sleeping! Between my bumping into it and then a second later shining my light at it, it woke up bared its sharp teeth at me and swam away. My heart jumped. It was a harrowing three seconds.

My reaction was to bolt to the surface but I didn't. I just reminded myself I still had plenty of air and light.

I get to the surface after a safety stop, shine my light to the boat and they come get me.

Lessons learned: A current can start at any time - if you turn your light off, make sure to be holding the rope.

But what are the chances of bumping into a barracuda in the middle of the vast ocean!
 
Great story

Have you seen how they sleep (I guess)

With their heads down, suspended and motionless?


I saw some gill slits pretty far apart on a Hawaii night safety stop all alone once. Thankfully they were fleeting and I almost could wonder if they were real.
 
Great story

Have you seen how they sleep (I guess)

With their heads down, suspended and motionless?


I saw some gill slits pretty far apart on a Hawaii night safety stop all alone once. Thankfully they were fleeting and I almost could wonder if they were real.

It was an accute few seconds and given my proximity to it - TOO CLOSE FOR COMFORT, I did not manage to observe how they sleep.
But I can tell you they wake up really fast and are not hesitant to to engage in fisticuff.
 
Come to think of it - my two harrowing experiences have only and both involved barracuda.

A few dives ago, I was doing an afternoon dive. Solo. To a site I'm rather familiar with. About 29 meters (100 feet) deep.
It was a late afternoon. Most sealife was back at the reef and in dormant mode. Likely they'd had their lunch and were about to slumber.
Very peaceful dive. It was cuttlefish mating season - so a lot of romance and acrobatics.

I'd reached my NDL and decided to ascend. Even when I dive solo, I will actively try to find other divers to ascend with. Why not, right? Good practice. Makes it easier on the captain.
That late afternoon dive I wasn't near any of the other divers. No matter. Plenty of air, my spare pony, spare mask, and the usual reassurances.
So I begin to slowly ascend.
At 22 meters (72 feet), I notice a pair of barracuda swimming by.
Oh lovely, a pair of barracuda.
I turn my head left and I see a school of them.
Oh wonderful! A school of no less than a hundred barracuda swimming perpendicular to me.
At this point, I wish I had the wordsmith skills of authors and book writers to better describe what happened.
I had stowed my camera away but thought, why not take a few pictures. So I, with haste, unlatch the camera tether, turn on the camera. Set it to landscape mode (it defaults to macro mode) and begin taking a few photographs.
As I'm taking pictures and simultaneously passing my regards to Poseidon for this eventful ascent, I notice that the schooling barracuda are now circling me.
How fantastic! A circling school of barracuda.
As I'm looking at the camera screen, I find myself trying to zoom out. I was already at maximum zoom out. Why do they look so close on the camera viewfinder. So I look up and I notice that not only have they reduced the radius distance, but they picked up pace fast.
It was only a few seconds but the pace at which they were swimming, the half-open jaws, the military style rhythm of their tact and the millions of glimmers from their eerily shiny bodies and my heart rate picked up.
I realized what was happening.
They'd entered hunt mode.
They were attacking me on two fronts.
First front they were getting me dizzy by dazzling me with their glimmering skin, making my head spin by how fast they were circling me. The second front was emotionally getting my heart rate up.

Well done, barracuda. Well done.
It was both a pleasure and a pain to be prey to nature's alpha species.
I think I am fortunate that I realized what was happening. Because I then reminded myself I was fine. I had plenty of air. No need to panic. Action plan to simply and slowly ascend. They ascended with me a few meters before dashing off.
Magnificent bastards.

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