Started to say, "tonight was 100", but remembered how much fun everybody had the last time I made that mistake.
My husband and I met NW Grateful Diver (who else?) for an evening dive at Cove 2 (where else?). It was cold, grey, and drizzly, and we were all pretty thoroughly chilled before even getting in the water. Had it not been a special evening, we might have looked at each other sensibly and agreed to head for warm food and drink and forego the dive altogether. But it was not that night.
The dive was uneventful, except for absolutely the best octopus viewing I've had to date. Bob led us to a "secret" octopus, and we waited quietly while the six or so other divers got through looking. Then Bob took pictures, and Peter took pictures. I had little hope of seeing much when everyone else was through, but I came up to the hole and peered in with my light, and the first thing I saw was a HUGE tentacle whipping past my eyes. The octopus was there, and active, probably disturbed by having the equivalent of a Hollywood stage's worth of high intensity lighting directed into her bedroom with a by-your-leave. It was a big octopus, and I thoroughly enjoyed watching.
The rest of the dive was a tour of familiar territory, made less so by diving at night and turbid water. I got cold quickly, and we headed in.
I had invited all of my instructors to join either the dive or the subsequent dinner, and one of my two OW instructors came, and my Fundies instructor touched bases at the dive site. That was very pleasant.
A hundred dives . . . one would think one would know something or have achieved a certain level of competence by that point. And, to be honest, I have; but nothing is yet where I would like it. In daylight, even in poor viz, I'm doing okay. But at night, or in midwater, I'm still plagued by disorientation and instability. I tolerate a lot more task loading than I did six months ago, when simply checking my SPG could put me in the silt . . . but there are still definite limits, and when they are exceeded, the results are at best comical.
But no matter what my diving skills are or are not yet, I have made some wonderful friends doing this, and some of them made a real effort to help me celebrate a milestone that, a year ago, I had no inkling I would reach. Diving is great fun, and divers are great people.
My husband and I met NW Grateful Diver (who else?) for an evening dive at Cove 2 (where else?). It was cold, grey, and drizzly, and we were all pretty thoroughly chilled before even getting in the water. Had it not been a special evening, we might have looked at each other sensibly and agreed to head for warm food and drink and forego the dive altogether. But it was not that night.
The dive was uneventful, except for absolutely the best octopus viewing I've had to date. Bob led us to a "secret" octopus, and we waited quietly while the six or so other divers got through looking. Then Bob took pictures, and Peter took pictures. I had little hope of seeing much when everyone else was through, but I came up to the hole and peered in with my light, and the first thing I saw was a HUGE tentacle whipping past my eyes. The octopus was there, and active, probably disturbed by having the equivalent of a Hollywood stage's worth of high intensity lighting directed into her bedroom with a by-your-leave. It was a big octopus, and I thoroughly enjoyed watching.
The rest of the dive was a tour of familiar territory, made less so by diving at night and turbid water. I got cold quickly, and we headed in.
I had invited all of my instructors to join either the dive or the subsequent dinner, and one of my two OW instructors came, and my Fundies instructor touched bases at the dive site. That was very pleasant.
A hundred dives . . . one would think one would know something or have achieved a certain level of competence by that point. And, to be honest, I have; but nothing is yet where I would like it. In daylight, even in poor viz, I'm doing okay. But at night, or in midwater, I'm still plagued by disorientation and instability. I tolerate a lot more task loading than I did six months ago, when simply checking my SPG could put me in the silt . . . but there are still definite limits, and when they are exceeded, the results are at best comical.
But no matter what my diving skills are or are not yet, I have made some wonderful friends doing this, and some of them made a real effort to help me celebrate a milestone that, a year ago, I had no inkling I would reach. Diving is great fun, and divers are great people.
