Nailer99
Contributor
catherine96821:
I'm curious, too, but I'll betcha it's the "overhead environment, no direct access to the surface" deal. What's the story, JeffG?
what are your scuba battle scars..mental and physical
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I'm curious, too, but I'll betcha it's the "overhead environment, no direct access to the surface" deal. What's the story, JeffG?
No major physical scars, outside of on my shins from unruly boat ladders.
I do have a mental scar from a speedo incident on a dive boat in Coz. Some guy wearing the infamous speedos was "letting in all hang out" (literally) on the way out to the dive site.
I do have a mental scar from a speedo incident on a dive boat in Coz. Some guy wearing the infamous speedos was "letting in all hang out" (literally) on the way out to the dive site.
james croft
Contributor
Huh, what did you say? How about microbubbles in the inner ear causing hearing loss, tennitus and vertigo. Sucks.
DocIndyDiver
Contributor
I had a boat's DM in West Palm accidently crack me across my left brow, when he swung his regulator up to check it. Resulted in a handfull of blood and 6 stitches.
The Captain and DM cared less about my injury. Thankfully I had a good old friend on board to assit in first aid with his own kit...the boat's was sub-par.
Karma is a wonderus thing, this opt's boat was destroyed during the '04 Hurricanes.
The Captain and DM cared less about my injury. Thankfully I had a good old friend on board to assit in first aid with his own kit...the boat's was sub-par.
Karma is a wonderus thing, this opt's boat was destroyed during the '04 Hurricanes.
BIGG_BUDD
Contributor
chickdiver:
chickdiver, You are a mess. I gotta go drinking with you!
Nothing life threatening, but I had a cool shark encounter: www.ulichnie.com/video/JAWS.wmv
Cheers,
DEEPSEAWOLF
Contributor
The day was comfortable and the water at Ginnie Springs' Devil's Ear was fairly clear. I sometimes dive with gloves nicknamed "webbies" because they create a webbed hand for underwater resistance in pool aerobics. They also work very well for minor position changes when diving, and to minimize silt disturbance. Here we were, Andy, Gibbon, and Myself. Andy was heading into Devil's Ear while I was working my way back out, trying not to get sliced up on the rocks. Andy is a caver so he had all kinds of gear hanging everywhere. I had just placed my hands on the sides of the rock ledge when something in Andy's direction glimmered and caught my attention. I looked at him to suddenly have my vision go squirrelly. Ya know in horror movies when they zoom in on something, like tunnel vision, and all you see is the actor/monster/gun muzzle?
I found myself in the same situation. A rescue knife had come dislodged from Andy's gear and was being propelled by the fierce water outflow straight towards my face. Well, I say straight,... it was actually horizontal and was spinning like a manual lawnmower. At 200 feet no one can hear you scream.
Maybe so, but they CAN at 15 feet! This blade, now spinning like the front of a harvester in a cornfield was blazing a trail towards me. I thought, "no big deal, I'm wearing gloves, I'll just grab it! I stretched out my hand in front of me and closed my grip on the knife. My fist concealed the sudden horror I was about to endure. The glove acted like a diaphragm and pushed the blade away from my hand. Now, I sit, staring at my fist and see the blade pop over the top of my closed fist, continuing on its death march to kill me! AHHHHHHHHH! Again, I scream into my regulator! The blade, now only a foot away from my face, continues slicing its way toward me like a creature bent on my destruction. I reached out with my left hand and closed my grip on the blade. AHA! I felt it in my grasp this time! As I felt a sigh of relief, my horror was realized. The angry blade of unrepentant doom again popped over the fist. It hung there for a second laughing at me, then viciously attacked like a swarm of bees. In a last ditch effort of survival, I batted the blade to the side, toward the cavern wall. Suddenly, a normally gloved hand reached into view from behind me and caught the blade. I knew I had heard the blade laughing at me during its savage onslaught. Alas, twas my dive buddy Gibbon. He handed me the blade in an Is this yours gesture? I took the blade from him and pointed to Andy below us. I tucked the tormentor of my dreams into my sleeve and noticed how quickly an 80 cubic foot cylinder could empty through a regulator. During the surface interval, I returned Andys wayward blade as I told him the story. I think he wet his drysuit, he was laughing so hard.
These are the scars I carry. This is the story I tell.
Notice: NO names were changed to protect the innocent.
I found myself in the same situation. A rescue knife had come dislodged from Andy's gear and was being propelled by the fierce water outflow straight towards my face. Well, I say straight,... it was actually horizontal and was spinning like a manual lawnmower. At 200 feet no one can hear you scream.
Maybe so, but they CAN at 15 feet! This blade, now spinning like the front of a harvester in a cornfield was blazing a trail towards me. I thought, "no big deal, I'm wearing gloves, I'll just grab it! I stretched out my hand in front of me and closed my grip on the knife. My fist concealed the sudden horror I was about to endure. The glove acted like a diaphragm and pushed the blade away from my hand. Now, I sit, staring at my fist and see the blade pop over the top of my closed fist, continuing on its death march to kill me! AHHHHHHHHH! Again, I scream into my regulator! The blade, now only a foot away from my face, continues slicing its way toward me like a creature bent on my destruction. I reached out with my left hand and closed my grip on the blade. AHA! I felt it in my grasp this time! As I felt a sigh of relief, my horror was realized. The angry blade of unrepentant doom again popped over the fist. It hung there for a second laughing at me, then viciously attacked like a swarm of bees. In a last ditch effort of survival, I batted the blade to the side, toward the cavern wall. Suddenly, a normally gloved hand reached into view from behind me and caught the blade. I knew I had heard the blade laughing at me during its savage onslaught. Alas, twas my dive buddy Gibbon. He handed me the blade in an Is this yours gesture? I took the blade from him and pointed to Andy below us. I tucked the tormentor of my dreams into my sleeve and noticed how quickly an 80 cubic foot cylinder could empty through a regulator. During the surface interval, I returned Andys wayward blade as I told him the story. I think he wet his drysuit, he was laughing so hard.
These are the scars I carry. This is the story I tell.
Notice: NO names were changed to protect the innocent.
I was on a small boat in Cozumel, and the skipper was taking great joy in taking us to our site as fast as the boat would take us. Most skippers take great pains to move the boat carefully when crossing the wake of another boat, but not this guy. He wanted air!
On one of those occasions, I was thrown high in the air, and landed on the bench hard on my butt. The bruise was visible, and I was in pain for well over a month.
On one of those occasions, I was thrown high in the air, and landed on the bench hard on my butt. The bruise was visible, and I was in pain for well over a month.
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