Not really a story with a moral, something just kinda funny.
The scene: Molassas Reef of Key Largo last weekend.
About an hour dive at 20 feet. Very leisurely puttering around a reef frightening the fish on the second (and last) dive of the day. Somewhere around 45 minutes in my tanks starts shifting back and forth. That is; my STA starts shifting back and forth on the plate every time I shift my weight from one side to the other.
My first impulse is to take off my rig, tighten the bolts down, and keep heading back to the mooring line. But some little voice in the back of my head kept whispering, "Just leave it alone. You're going to be out of the water in a few minutes anyway. Just leave it."
So I reach back and hold the tank valve for the rest of the swim back, just to minimize movement.
As SOON as I step out of the water I feel a HUGE shift in weight that almost pulls me off the ladder back into the slightly bucking sea.
"Yeah," says the captain as he helps me onto the gunwale, "Looks like you lost a bolt, there."
The top wingnut had come off and vanished into the reef somewhere. The bottom one was shortly on it's way to follow. If I had taken off my rig, that probably would have done it. My wing would rocket to the surface, and I'd have been swimming back to the boat with my tank under my arm. As it is, I'm surprised the STA didn't crack and neither of the bolts bent.
Thank god for those little voices. And the ubiquity of Home Depot. $1.50 worth of spare wingnuts and washers and the diving continued on Sunday. This time, with the wingnuts tightened down enough to hurt my knuckles.
The scene: Molassas Reef of Key Largo last weekend.
About an hour dive at 20 feet. Very leisurely puttering around a reef frightening the fish on the second (and last) dive of the day. Somewhere around 45 minutes in my tanks starts shifting back and forth. That is; my STA starts shifting back and forth on the plate every time I shift my weight from one side to the other.
My first impulse is to take off my rig, tighten the bolts down, and keep heading back to the mooring line. But some little voice in the back of my head kept whispering, "Just leave it alone. You're going to be out of the water in a few minutes anyway. Just leave it."
So I reach back and hold the tank valve for the rest of the swim back, just to minimize movement.
As SOON as I step out of the water I feel a HUGE shift in weight that almost pulls me off the ladder back into the slightly bucking sea.
"Yeah," says the captain as he helps me onto the gunwale, "Looks like you lost a bolt, there."
The top wingnut had come off and vanished into the reef somewhere. The bottom one was shortly on it's way to follow. If I had taken off my rig, that probably would have done it. My wing would rocket to the surface, and I'd have been swimming back to the boat with my tank under my arm. As it is, I'm surprised the STA didn't crack and neither of the bolts bent.
Thank god for those little voices. And the ubiquity of Home Depot. $1.50 worth of spare wingnuts and washers and the diving continued on Sunday. This time, with the wingnuts tightened down enough to hurt my knuckles.
