Alex_Garland
Registered
Recently I decided to pursue a PADI Advanced Open Water (AOW) certification through Coastal Scuba/Little River Fishing Fleet. After completing my PADI e-learning exercises at home, I scheduled charter trips on Wednesday, July 27, and Thursday, July 28, on the Safari IV. After driving down from D.C. the Tuesday evening before the first trip, I located the Coastal Scuba dive shop on highway 17 in North Myrtle Beach. The staff greeted me, gave me paperwork to fill out, and provided a map to the marina. One of the dive masters advised me to take sea sickness medicine, noting that divers who had claimed to be immune to motion sickness had had difficulties with the choppy water of the North Atlantic. I showed up at the dock promptly at 6:30 a.m. the next day with my SCUBA gear and was welcomed aboard along with twenty other divers.
The first day of diving did not go well. As we were gearing up for our first dive, none of the instructors on board seemed aware I was supposed to be starting my AOW training. At the last minute one of the instructors perfunctorily had me identify several safety features of the vessel. After this exchange that took all of two minutes, he told me I had just completed my boat diving certification. He then suggested I would complete the wreck dive part of my training by descending to the Sherman with an underwater slate, pencil, and compass and making a rough sketch of the wreck that included its orientation and length in kick strokes. After asking me how many dives I had done in my lifetime (I had logged 63 dives), he sent me down to the wreck alone. The idea of diving without an instructor or even a dive buddy seemed odd. I had been taught that nobody should ever dive alone. Later that day, a friend who is a multi-agency certified SCUBA instructor confirmed this would be considered an egregious offense, a 10 on a scale of 1 to 10, at most dive operations. Nobody with anything less than a dive master certification should ever dive alone. But at that moment, I decided to go with the flow. I reasoned I could make the descent to the wreck on my own and then join up with a group of other divers.
The underwater conditions were far more challenging than anything I had previously seen. The visibility of five to ten feet was terrible. Descending to the wreck required following an intricate system of weighted down lines attached to the boat. Each line ran from a corner of the stern and descended into the water parallel to the boat. At a point underwater well beyond the bow, the two down lines converged at the main anchor line running from the bow to the wreck below. Following the lines, I made my way down to the ocean floor. Arriving at the anchor point took me by surprise. One moment I was making my way down the line hand over hand, the next I found myself floating next to a large pile of coral-covered debris. I was alone with none of the other divers in sight. Perhaps unwisely, I decided to proceed with the task at hand. Swimming from the wreck’s bow to stern and back, I did my best to establish its orientation using the compass and to measure its length in kick strokes each way. I found little at the site to interest me. Having been sunk in 1874, the structure had degraded significantly and retained only the barest outline of a ship.
The dive did not last long. This was my first open water dive in a few months and my rust was evident. Cursing loudly into my regulator, I struggled to clear my leaky mask. I sucked up air at a furious pace. Though not a fun dive, I did get one enjoyable moment when a tiny reef shark cut through the haze and crossed my path a few feet in front of me. Using the slate was out of the question, but I made a rough mental note of the wreck’s length and orientation to complete my sketch once I was back on the boat. After swimming several cycles between the bow and stern, I headed back to the surface along the anchor line. I cut it close with my air consumption, but otherwise I made it back to the Safari IV without any problems.
Not everyone was so lucky. Possibly owing to the poor visibility, one of the other divers hit her head on the hull of the boat on her ascent. Her injury did not appear serious; she remained conscious and seemed fully in control of her motor skills. Taking every precaution, the captain radioed the Coast Guard, aborted the trip, and headed back to the marina, where the unfortunate woman received full medical attention from the medics on duty and departed on a rolling stretcher.
After disembarking and carrying my gear back to my car, I drove to the dive shop to have a word with the staff. I was not happy about the lack of attention I had received from the instructors. I spoke with Cameron, the owner of the operation who is also a certified instructor. After hearing me out, Cameron apologized and told me he was “shocked” to hear that the instructor assigned to me had sent me to dive alone. He told me this was not characteristic of how that instructor does things. Cameron then assured me that he himself would be on the boat tomorrow and would take over my instruction.
True to his word, Cameron was on board the Safari IV the next day. It was a much better day of diving. We visited the Charleston Tug wreck and troop carriers shadowed by schools of the largest barracuda I have ever seen. (Also the only interesting fish I would see for the remainder of my diving.) Cameron showed me how to guide myself underwater using a compass, a mandatory skill for AOW certification, and tested my buoyancy skills by having me swim through passages in troop carriers without kicking up too much sediment.
The underwater visibility and current being similar to the day before, both the navigation and buoyancy exercises were challenging. I did all right with the buoyancy test. This is a skill that has always come naturally to me. The underwater navigation drills were more problematic. Prior to my dives, the underwater navigation component was the part of the training that concerned me the most. I have never really gotten the hang of using a compass on dry land; using one underwater seemed daunting. As I had feared, I struggled with the compass and could not establish the north–south orientation of anything. Consistent with standard AOW training, Cameron had me swim about twenty kick strokes on a straight line and then back along the opposite trajectory. And I attempted to swim in a square pattern. Literally and figuratively, I needed hand holding with these exercises. Fortunately for me, Cameron is a patient teacher. On the boat he had emphasized the importance of maintaining a sense of where I was in relation to the wreck, and more important, in relation to the Safari IV and where it was anchored, rather than being overly concerned with north and south.
Due to the low tide, the ocean floor was only about fifty-five feet deep. Because breaking sixty feet is required for the AOW certification, I was not yet able to complete my training. But I had planned for a contingency day of diving and gladly accepted Cameron’s offer to come out for one more trip on Friday. (Because of the aborted trip the day before, I received a nice discount on the third charter.)
On my third day of diving we visited a wreck called Pinnacle Reef. The first dive was a bit of a disaster for me. I lost a mask and snorkel doing a poorly executed back-roll into the ocean. Having done mostly giant strides off stern ramps, I was not well-versed in the finer points of back-rolls off a boat’s side. I did not realize one should keep the front hand firmly over the mask as well as the regulator. Fortunately I had brought a backup mask, but I had to get back on the boat to re-equip myself. By that time my two assigned dive buddies had proceeded with their descent without me, and I had to pair up with two others. The leader of our group of three attempted a descent without using the lines, and sure enough, we were unable to locate the wreck and had to return to the surface to try again. Holding fast to the lines, we located the wreck and had a decent dive.
Cameron accompanied me on my second dive along with two others doing their AOW certifications. We made it to sixty-two feet and practiced our underwater navigation skills. Once again I was not able to keep the orientation of the boat straight in my head. With the visibility being about the same as the previous days (maybe worse with all the floating algae), and the frequent twists and turns we made among the wreckage, it was too easy to lose sight of the direction from which we had come. Fortunately for me Cameron takes the view “there is no pass–fail underwater;” the purpose of AOW training is to teach new skills and to make sure students are competent divers. Once we were back on the boat Cameron assured me I had demonstrated a level of competence sufficient to award me an AOW certification.
I would not say this was the best diving experience I have ever had. The underwater conditions at Myrtle Beach are far from ideal for someone who enjoys warm, clear water; natural coral reef formations; and schools of colorful, tropical fish. The poor visibility and underwater current made it a challenging place to complete an Advanced Open Water certification. Even so, the attention to detail of the staff at the Coastal Scuba dive center; the organization of the Safari IV captain and crew, who gave clear explanations, provided adequate snacks and drinks, and did roll calls after every dive; and the leadership of the instructors, who (except for the first day) gave outstanding guidance, made this trip and training exercise a worthwhile experience. Though I would not recommend diving in the North Atlantic to everyone, I would enthusiastically recommend Coastal Scuba as a dive operation.
The first day of diving did not go well. As we were gearing up for our first dive, none of the instructors on board seemed aware I was supposed to be starting my AOW training. At the last minute one of the instructors perfunctorily had me identify several safety features of the vessel. After this exchange that took all of two minutes, he told me I had just completed my boat diving certification. He then suggested I would complete the wreck dive part of my training by descending to the Sherman with an underwater slate, pencil, and compass and making a rough sketch of the wreck that included its orientation and length in kick strokes. After asking me how many dives I had done in my lifetime (I had logged 63 dives), he sent me down to the wreck alone. The idea of diving without an instructor or even a dive buddy seemed odd. I had been taught that nobody should ever dive alone. Later that day, a friend who is a multi-agency certified SCUBA instructor confirmed this would be considered an egregious offense, a 10 on a scale of 1 to 10, at most dive operations. Nobody with anything less than a dive master certification should ever dive alone. But at that moment, I decided to go with the flow. I reasoned I could make the descent to the wreck on my own and then join up with a group of other divers.
The underwater conditions were far more challenging than anything I had previously seen. The visibility of five to ten feet was terrible. Descending to the wreck required following an intricate system of weighted down lines attached to the boat. Each line ran from a corner of the stern and descended into the water parallel to the boat. At a point underwater well beyond the bow, the two down lines converged at the main anchor line running from the bow to the wreck below. Following the lines, I made my way down to the ocean floor. Arriving at the anchor point took me by surprise. One moment I was making my way down the line hand over hand, the next I found myself floating next to a large pile of coral-covered debris. I was alone with none of the other divers in sight. Perhaps unwisely, I decided to proceed with the task at hand. Swimming from the wreck’s bow to stern and back, I did my best to establish its orientation using the compass and to measure its length in kick strokes each way. I found little at the site to interest me. Having been sunk in 1874, the structure had degraded significantly and retained only the barest outline of a ship.
The dive did not last long. This was my first open water dive in a few months and my rust was evident. Cursing loudly into my regulator, I struggled to clear my leaky mask. I sucked up air at a furious pace. Though not a fun dive, I did get one enjoyable moment when a tiny reef shark cut through the haze and crossed my path a few feet in front of me. Using the slate was out of the question, but I made a rough mental note of the wreck’s length and orientation to complete my sketch once I was back on the boat. After swimming several cycles between the bow and stern, I headed back to the surface along the anchor line. I cut it close with my air consumption, but otherwise I made it back to the Safari IV without any problems.
Not everyone was so lucky. Possibly owing to the poor visibility, one of the other divers hit her head on the hull of the boat on her ascent. Her injury did not appear serious; she remained conscious and seemed fully in control of her motor skills. Taking every precaution, the captain radioed the Coast Guard, aborted the trip, and headed back to the marina, where the unfortunate woman received full medical attention from the medics on duty and departed on a rolling stretcher.
After disembarking and carrying my gear back to my car, I drove to the dive shop to have a word with the staff. I was not happy about the lack of attention I had received from the instructors. I spoke with Cameron, the owner of the operation who is also a certified instructor. After hearing me out, Cameron apologized and told me he was “shocked” to hear that the instructor assigned to me had sent me to dive alone. He told me this was not characteristic of how that instructor does things. Cameron then assured me that he himself would be on the boat tomorrow and would take over my instruction.
True to his word, Cameron was on board the Safari IV the next day. It was a much better day of diving. We visited the Charleston Tug wreck and troop carriers shadowed by schools of the largest barracuda I have ever seen. (Also the only interesting fish I would see for the remainder of my diving.) Cameron showed me how to guide myself underwater using a compass, a mandatory skill for AOW certification, and tested my buoyancy skills by having me swim through passages in troop carriers without kicking up too much sediment.
The underwater visibility and current being similar to the day before, both the navigation and buoyancy exercises were challenging. I did all right with the buoyancy test. This is a skill that has always come naturally to me. The underwater navigation drills were more problematic. Prior to my dives, the underwater navigation component was the part of the training that concerned me the most. I have never really gotten the hang of using a compass on dry land; using one underwater seemed daunting. As I had feared, I struggled with the compass and could not establish the north–south orientation of anything. Consistent with standard AOW training, Cameron had me swim about twenty kick strokes on a straight line and then back along the opposite trajectory. And I attempted to swim in a square pattern. Literally and figuratively, I needed hand holding with these exercises. Fortunately for me, Cameron is a patient teacher. On the boat he had emphasized the importance of maintaining a sense of where I was in relation to the wreck, and more important, in relation to the Safari IV and where it was anchored, rather than being overly concerned with north and south.
Due to the low tide, the ocean floor was only about fifty-five feet deep. Because breaking sixty feet is required for the AOW certification, I was not yet able to complete my training. But I had planned for a contingency day of diving and gladly accepted Cameron’s offer to come out for one more trip on Friday. (Because of the aborted trip the day before, I received a nice discount on the third charter.)
On my third day of diving we visited a wreck called Pinnacle Reef. The first dive was a bit of a disaster for me. I lost a mask and snorkel doing a poorly executed back-roll into the ocean. Having done mostly giant strides off stern ramps, I was not well-versed in the finer points of back-rolls off a boat’s side. I did not realize one should keep the front hand firmly over the mask as well as the regulator. Fortunately I had brought a backup mask, but I had to get back on the boat to re-equip myself. By that time my two assigned dive buddies had proceeded with their descent without me, and I had to pair up with two others. The leader of our group of three attempted a descent without using the lines, and sure enough, we were unable to locate the wreck and had to return to the surface to try again. Holding fast to the lines, we located the wreck and had a decent dive.
Cameron accompanied me on my second dive along with two others doing their AOW certifications. We made it to sixty-two feet and practiced our underwater navigation skills. Once again I was not able to keep the orientation of the boat straight in my head. With the visibility being about the same as the previous days (maybe worse with all the floating algae), and the frequent twists and turns we made among the wreckage, it was too easy to lose sight of the direction from which we had come. Fortunately for me Cameron takes the view “there is no pass–fail underwater;” the purpose of AOW training is to teach new skills and to make sure students are competent divers. Once we were back on the boat Cameron assured me I had demonstrated a level of competence sufficient to award me an AOW certification.
I would not say this was the best diving experience I have ever had. The underwater conditions at Myrtle Beach are far from ideal for someone who enjoys warm, clear water; natural coral reef formations; and schools of colorful, tropical fish. The poor visibility and underwater current made it a challenging place to complete an Advanced Open Water certification. Even so, the attention to detail of the staff at the Coastal Scuba dive center; the organization of the Safari IV captain and crew, who gave clear explanations, provided adequate snacks and drinks, and did roll calls after every dive; and the leadership of the instructors, who (except for the first day) gave outstanding guidance, made this trip and training exercise a worthwhile experience. Though I would not recommend diving in the North Atlantic to everyone, I would enthusiastically recommend Coastal Scuba as a dive operation.
