Another day, another dive. This time the so-called exam dive.
Arriving at the site, I looked down at the beach and thought "hmmmm". Low tide, rocky shore (nice round ones, about the size of a human head, with plenty of seaweed on them), some 1m waves which were breaking already before they reached shore. When all three cars had arrived, the instructor took us all down to get a closer look at the conditions. After everybody had had a good look and mulled it over a bit, he asked about our thoughts. Now, the rest of the students are in their 20s, and as we all know and average twenty-something is in better shape than an average fifty-something. And some of the twenty-somethings are still immortal, while we old farts have had several occasions to taste our mortality. Sure enough, one of the other students grinned and meant that a little surf was fun. I chose to be the party-pooper (that's one of the good things about being a fifty-something, you usually care less about peer pressure than many of the whippersnappers do) and said that for me, the conditions were marginal at best. Which meant that the site was canned, and we got back into our cars to check on the next option.
The next option was our regular training site. Pretty well sheltered entry and exit, unless the wind blows from NNE. It was blowing from NE to ENE, with the forecast saying it would turn even more easterly during the afternoon. So definitely better than the original site and very small risk for the conditions deteriorating. We inspected also this site from down by the water, and agreed that everyone was ok. I suspect that that the alternative was to get back into our cars and continue driving had some influence on the decision.
Then came the standard routine: Assemble the O2 kit and find a suitable location, decide on where the dive leader should be located and also the location of the bucket line for the rescue swimmer. That led to some discussion, because since there were no fishermen on the wharf, both teams wanted to swim out from the bay which was on the east side of the wharf, and then turn westward. And on the west side of the wharf, the shore was rather steep, made up from blasted rock (is that a word? Basically 1-3m boulders made by blasting solid rock). So while the only good landing site for a distressed diver was in the bay on the east side, it was more than likely that any diver in distress would be spotted on the west side. We found a decent compromise, taking into account that there would be some four guys topside, already suited up.
The weather was on the crappy side, with northernly wind and more than a little snow in the air. One or two degrees above freezing. If i hadn't been out diving, I'd probably say that it was nice weather outdoors to be indoors. It was a mite nippy to stand out on the wharf keeping watch, so we took turns. Two to look out and two to warm up, switching whenever those at the outlook post were getting just a little uncomfortable. It kinda sucks to be thoroughly chilly before splashing in 5C water. Good thing is, when you're in a drysuit, with good undergarments and perhaps even with your drygloves on, you can take quite a bit of crappy weather before things start to become seriously uncomfortable.
The first team surfaced, and it was our turn. Now, this dive was going to be a simulated decompression dive. Go down to whatever depth we chose as long as it was deeper than 25m. Bottom time, min gas, and saturation group should of course be known. Then, after a suitable bottom time, an ascent at 10 m/min (which is what the tables are based on, so if we lingered at depth or took our good time to ascend we'd ongas more and wouldn't really know our deco obligation) to some 9-12m. From there on, a controlled ascent with proper - albeit only 3 min - stops at 6m and at 3m. And if we felt for it and were up to it, shoot a dSMB from 6m. We decided on who should lead the dive until we should ascend (yours truly), who should lead the ascent (buddy #1) and who should shoot the sausage (buddy #2).
Already before we descended, the first portion of manure hit the ventilation device. We hadn't properly talked through our entry. I like to take my time. At the edge of the water, I rinse the spit out of my mask, make sure I've put it on well with the skirt beneath my hood, and make sure i have my reg in my mouth. Just a few minutes later I got a pretty good demonstration of why that may be a pretty good idea. Bad thing, the other two didn't notice, or didn't think about, that I spent a minute or so before wading in. So they were some meters further out when I slipped on a piece of seaweed and fell over in about half a meter of water. In noticeable surf and with between 30 and 40 kg of gear on me. Have I mentioned that I'm middle-aged and probably not in better shape than my average peer? In any case, there really was no emergency because I had my mask on, I had a working reg in my mouth and my wing was inflated. But my backup is tuned rather loose, so it naturally chose that moment to freeflow. And while the rest of the situation wasn't that stressful even though I was thrown around a little bit, a freeflowing reg just below my chin was a bit distracting. After a little time, I got help to get back on my feet, but neither putting the valve in my mouth and trying to hold against the flow, nor sticking my finger in the mouthpiece stopped the freeflow. So I got help to turn off my tank valve. The reg had free-flowed for a little while and gotten rather cold, so it didn't behave properly the first time my gas was turned on again. That was when we decided to wade out a little more so I could dip my backup in the water so it could thaw up properly. On the second attempt, it behaved again and we could proceed. With some 80 bar less in my tank. Oh well. Just remember min gas pressure and cut down on actual bottom time, and we'll be ok. That's one of the few times I've wanted a twinset instead of my single.
We were of course properly chastised for that miss during the feedback session. Well deserved.