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Had an incident the other day that reminded me in a rather unpleasant way how even a very experienced diver can occasionally do something really dumb.
I'm currently in Florida, taking a cave class. Now, being from the Seattle area this is all new to me ... we don't have anything like caves where I normally dive. So in some respects, it's like starting from scratch.
Anyway, we were coming back out of the cave after doing our first dive involving "jumps". The instructor was throwing successive failures at us ... which any good instructor will do to see what you can handle. We'd exerted ourselves pretty well getting into the cave, and were now riding the flow out ... and were just coming out of a restriction at about 75 ffw and about 300 feet from the entrance when he had my buddy do an OOA. I was tired, and a bit upset with myself for how I'd responded to the last couple of failures, and just got careless. I handed off my primary, pushed my backup into my mouth, and forgetting to purge the reg inhaled a bit of water.
Now, here's where it got interesting ... I've done that before and just coughed a bit and proceeded. But this time, as soon as I inhaled that water my larynx spasmed and my ability to breathe got shut down. I was, at the time, already breathing hard from the exertion of working multiple failures in a high-flow cave ... and was considerably CO2 loaded ... so that didn't help matters.
I was reduced to laying on the bottom, giving my team (and two instructors) a HOLD sign ... and just trying to remain calm while my windpipe decided whether or not it wanted to let me breathe. I signaled my buddy to give me back my primary reg. I wasn't sure whether I'd banged and somehow damaged this backup during the dive, but I wanted back the reg I knew was working ... even though at the moment it wasn't going to help me. All I knew was that when my ability to breathe returned I wanted the reg I knew was going to give me air without water in it. My buddy obliged.
After what my dive buddy later told me was about a minute (seemed a lot longer than that to me), I was finally able to get a tiny, wheezing bit of air into my lungs again ... that was the sweetest air I think I've ever breathed. A few seconds later I signaled OK and HOLD ... took a few more, successively fuller, breaths ... then got up off the floor and indicated that I was OK and we should exit the cave.
It's amazing what will go thru your head at a time like that. At first I was pissed that I'd do such a stupid thing ... I teach Open Water students how to not do that. Then I was thinking that Jim (my instructor) was gonna think I'm an idiot who doesn't belong in a cave. Then ... when my body started DEMANDING air I couldn't deliver ... I started thinking I was gonna die in that cave. Then I pushed that thought away because I knew my best chance for survival was staying calm and concentrating on "fixing" the problem (which in this case meant just relax and let the spasm pass). When that first breath finally came, my thoughts returned to what my instructor would think ... and whether he was gonna let me finish this class. That thought stayed with me for the rest of the exit, although I forced myself to pay attention in case he threw another failure my way (he didn't).
In more than 2400 dives, that's the first time I honestly thought I might die underwater. In retrospect, it was a valuable lesson on several levels. Experience can sometimes lead to a casual attitude, which has no place underwater ... especially in an overhead environment. It's amazing how overconfidence can cause you to do things you KNOW not to do, and how quickly even a simple little mistake can incur a heavy price for what, from the safety of not being there, can seem like something any diver should be able to avoid.
But the most valuable lesson, perhaps, is in looking what goes through your mind and how hard you have to work at staying calm ... letting your mind work through what will be your best chance of getting back to the surface under your own power.
This class has been eight days of some pretty intensive training ... and at times I've felt like a newbie all over again. It's been humbling in some respects, and valuable in lots of respects. But one of the most important lessons I'm taking away from it is that there's no place in a cave for complacency ... not even for a moment. Just because you've done something a thousand times, doesn't mean you can't still screw it up. You need to pay attention every time you do it.
... Bob (Grateful Diver)
I'm currently in Florida, taking a cave class. Now, being from the Seattle area this is all new to me ... we don't have anything like caves where I normally dive. So in some respects, it's like starting from scratch.
Anyway, we were coming back out of the cave after doing our first dive involving "jumps". The instructor was throwing successive failures at us ... which any good instructor will do to see what you can handle. We'd exerted ourselves pretty well getting into the cave, and were now riding the flow out ... and were just coming out of a restriction at about 75 ffw and about 300 feet from the entrance when he had my buddy do an OOA. I was tired, and a bit upset with myself for how I'd responded to the last couple of failures, and just got careless. I handed off my primary, pushed my backup into my mouth, and forgetting to purge the reg inhaled a bit of water.
Now, here's where it got interesting ... I've done that before and just coughed a bit and proceeded. But this time, as soon as I inhaled that water my larynx spasmed and my ability to breathe got shut down. I was, at the time, already breathing hard from the exertion of working multiple failures in a high-flow cave ... and was considerably CO2 loaded ... so that didn't help matters.
I was reduced to laying on the bottom, giving my team (and two instructors) a HOLD sign ... and just trying to remain calm while my windpipe decided whether or not it wanted to let me breathe. I signaled my buddy to give me back my primary reg. I wasn't sure whether I'd banged and somehow damaged this backup during the dive, but I wanted back the reg I knew was working ... even though at the moment it wasn't going to help me. All I knew was that when my ability to breathe returned I wanted the reg I knew was going to give me air without water in it. My buddy obliged.
After what my dive buddy later told me was about a minute (seemed a lot longer than that to me), I was finally able to get a tiny, wheezing bit of air into my lungs again ... that was the sweetest air I think I've ever breathed. A few seconds later I signaled OK and HOLD ... took a few more, successively fuller, breaths ... then got up off the floor and indicated that I was OK and we should exit the cave.
It's amazing what will go thru your head at a time like that. At first I was pissed that I'd do such a stupid thing ... I teach Open Water students how to not do that. Then I was thinking that Jim (my instructor) was gonna think I'm an idiot who doesn't belong in a cave. Then ... when my body started DEMANDING air I couldn't deliver ... I started thinking I was gonna die in that cave. Then I pushed that thought away because I knew my best chance for survival was staying calm and concentrating on "fixing" the problem (which in this case meant just relax and let the spasm pass). When that first breath finally came, my thoughts returned to what my instructor would think ... and whether he was gonna let me finish this class. That thought stayed with me for the rest of the exit, although I forced myself to pay attention in case he threw another failure my way (he didn't).
In more than 2400 dives, that's the first time I honestly thought I might die underwater. In retrospect, it was a valuable lesson on several levels. Experience can sometimes lead to a casual attitude, which has no place underwater ... especially in an overhead environment. It's amazing how overconfidence can cause you to do things you KNOW not to do, and how quickly even a simple little mistake can incur a heavy price for what, from the safety of not being there, can seem like something any diver should be able to avoid.
But the most valuable lesson, perhaps, is in looking what goes through your mind and how hard you have to work at staying calm ... letting your mind work through what will be your best chance of getting back to the surface under your own power.
This class has been eight days of some pretty intensive training ... and at times I've felt like a newbie all over again. It's been humbling in some respects, and valuable in lots of respects. But one of the most important lessons I'm taking away from it is that there's no place in a cave for complacency ... not even for a moment. Just because you've done something a thousand times, doesn't mean you can't still screw it up. You need to pay attention every time you do it.
... Bob (Grateful Diver)