Rick Inman:
Can you tell us about it?? What happened, and how did the pony save you?
Sure, I can tell everyone but I'm a bit embarrassed...and I'm sure there will be a rash of replies. To circumvent this, I'll try to admit to all the mistakes that made it necessary for my pony bottle to save my life. The primary problem was that I committed the cardinal sin: I simply ran myself out of air. My dive team was recovering a stolen vehicle that was at 85 feet in a very cold dark quarry: water temp 34 degrees. I was wearing my dry suit and a positive pressure full face mask with comms. I had located the vehicle and tied a float to it a few days prior; unfortunately a fisherman in a boat must have taken a liking to my brightly colored float and confiscated it. On the day we showed up for the recovery, the dive chief sent me down with another diver to relocate the truck. I had assured him I could find it fairly quickly without the need to set up any type of search pattern (Mistake #1). My partner had to abort the dive, and after surfacing, I convinced the chief I could go down by myself (big mistake #2), quickly find the vehicle again, confirm the license plate number, and tie off another float. Then, since we only had four divers, as planned, the next duo of divers could haul the chains down for attaching the tow truck cable to pull the vehicle up and out. Well, I went back down, it took longer than expected to find the vehicle, I realized my dry suit had a leak (Mistake #3)brrrrrr!), and the full face mask wasn't sealing very well over my hood (Mistake #4). Therefore I was cold, breathing much heavier, and I was losing air out of the mask around the temples. When I finally found the vehicle, I checked my watch (but not my air gauge...big mistake #5) and saw that I had only been down 18 minutes. Given my experience on deep wrecks, I assumed I must still be good on air (Mistake #6). I drew on my slate the relative position of the vehicle, searched around the vehicle and the interior, and wrote down the plate number. I then tied off the float and when I went to deploy it...honest to God, and I've never seen this before...the float didn't float! It sank in the soft muck under the vehicle (Mistake #7). It was my dive chief's homemade float made out of a wooden dowel (I had to prove it to him later that it simply didn't float!). As I was looking for the float in the soft muck, to my big surprise, I sucked the last breath from my tank. Oh ****! I don't know if it was the increased breathing rate because I was cold from the leak in my dry suit (most likely) and/or the air coming out of the mask (I don't know if this was a substantial enough of a loss), but I was completely out of air. I let go of my primary light, ripped the mask off, and started fumbling for my pony regulator. Normally held to my upper left bcd harness d-ring by an o-ring, the pony 2nd stage regulator had gotten pinned under my armpit and wasn't where I was expecting it to be. I, thank God, was able to think and reached for the 1st stage of the pony bottle (I hang the bottle upside down to protect the 1st stage) and followed the hose to the 2nd stage and was able to cram it into my mouth before sucking water. I then ascended and reluctantly admitted my how my assumption had caused me to run out of air to the rest of the team. In looking back, I thank God I lived and I hope I learned from this. I had considered myself an experienced diver and someone who wouldn't ever run himself out of air...that was prior to having done it. In the past, when I heard stories about people who ran out of air, I considered them stupid or inexperienced, and I thought I was above that...not any longer. There is one guy on my dive team who seems like he cannot let this go...he likes to remind me and others from time to time that I did that. I figure, since I've had a lot of diving experiences that he hasn't and that he's trying to position himself as "Number One" diver on the team, he needs to criticize me. I guess that's OK, again, I'm just glad I lived to learn from it. This is why I won't leave the surface without a pony bottle...even on recreational dives.