Diving has long been the invisible sport. Patches on the jackets, C-cards, even social media allow for bragging rights. Almost every diver sounds like a diving hero within 5 minutes of any discussion. But, sometimes we do things that truly are stud worthy!
What's ironic is when divers actually do something that warrants a little bragging, we tend to clam up.
Rescues are one thing. When we save someone in an emergency or assist a distressed diver, we are just happy everything turned out okay, then we go back to business as usual. We may even forget we made a rescue by the time we get home. Heck, when I worked as a dive guide in the islands, we'd sometimes make more rescues than trips to the head in a single day. Other than rescues, some of our best diving stories are when we become accidental heroes.
One of my favorite stories about being "too cool for school" happened when I was diving with Silent World in Key Largo. On the first dive, the ocean was a washing machine of wave action and visibility on the Benwood Wreck was about 3 feet. I used to work for a couple operators in Key Largo and Islamorada, so I knew the wrecks and most of the reefs well. Diving conditions were ridiculous. I could barely figure out where I was on the wreck. After enough bottom time to feel like I had been diving, I decided to surface and look for the dive boat -- an act I almost never had to do. I located it, set my compass, and proceeded to return along the bottom. When I surfaced, the crew yelled at me to "Grab the line!" I thought it was a ridiculous request because the surface current was negligible and I could easily swim to the ladder several yards away. "Trace! Grab the line!" was the answer to my hesitation. I did as instructed. "SWIM!" came the immediate command. Huh? I saw the crew pointing frantically behind me so I swam in the direction people were pointing and shouting for me to go. Turned out a rebreather diver was in trouble on the surface. I got the tag line to him and the crew reeled us in. Fortunately, he was just tired to the point of exhaustion from the heavy seas and it ended well.
BUT ... that's not the part of the day that made me seem like a stud.
The captain got on the radio and called around looking for better vis for us for a second dive. The deep ball on a reef had blue water. On board was a father and two sons diving rebreathers and a father and two daughters who were newly minted OW divers. The plan was for me to buddy with the dad and his son since the other son was the rebreather diver who surfaced tired and stressed. He was going to sit out the second dive. We'd get dropped on the ball for a drift dive in 90 feet, pop bags, and get picked up after the boat took the father and his girls to a shallower site. The father and son splashed and disappeared. I jumped in and descended but they were nowhere in sight. I dropped to 90 and leveled off figuring I'd catch them if I finned with the drift. Nope. Turned out I was solo. I realized I had the wrong DSMB in my pocket. I had been teaching a solo diver class at Jules Undersea Lodge and only had my itty bitty short 1 meter/3.3 feet long Halcyon DSMB I use for teaching and not my 6 ft. long one I used for ocean diving. Great. Big waves and a small bag. I've seen Open Water and dated one of the women cast in the movie to boot. I figured my best bet for not getting run over by a boat and for not ending up adrift was to anchor myself in place in shallow water. When I reached a spur and groove system in the coral wall, I knew where I was. If I followed the grooves, I'd end up among a bunch of mooring balls. I also thought maybe the boat would be there? I found a mooring and began looking around for a hull. I visited two or three sites. No boat. Oh, well ... At that point, I decided to just pop my DSMB and then hang out on a mooring until picked up. I shot the bag and surfaced. As I was spooling up the line, I heard hands clapping. I turned around to see the captain and the family standing on the bow about 30 feet away. "What amazing navigation!" the captain said as everyone continued to clap.
After I climbed the ladder, people were asking who I was and how I did that. I just shrugged it off and said something like, "Eh. I'm just the training director of PSAI."
What I really was, was lucky. But, they didn't need to know that.
Has anyone else lucked themselves into stud status?
What's ironic is when divers actually do something that warrants a little bragging, we tend to clam up.
Rescues are one thing. When we save someone in an emergency or assist a distressed diver, we are just happy everything turned out okay, then we go back to business as usual. We may even forget we made a rescue by the time we get home. Heck, when I worked as a dive guide in the islands, we'd sometimes make more rescues than trips to the head in a single day. Other than rescues, some of our best diving stories are when we become accidental heroes.
One of my favorite stories about being "too cool for school" happened when I was diving with Silent World in Key Largo. On the first dive, the ocean was a washing machine of wave action and visibility on the Benwood Wreck was about 3 feet. I used to work for a couple operators in Key Largo and Islamorada, so I knew the wrecks and most of the reefs well. Diving conditions were ridiculous. I could barely figure out where I was on the wreck. After enough bottom time to feel like I had been diving, I decided to surface and look for the dive boat -- an act I almost never had to do. I located it, set my compass, and proceeded to return along the bottom. When I surfaced, the crew yelled at me to "Grab the line!" I thought it was a ridiculous request because the surface current was negligible and I could easily swim to the ladder several yards away. "Trace! Grab the line!" was the answer to my hesitation. I did as instructed. "SWIM!" came the immediate command. Huh? I saw the crew pointing frantically behind me so I swam in the direction people were pointing and shouting for me to go. Turned out a rebreather diver was in trouble on the surface. I got the tag line to him and the crew reeled us in. Fortunately, he was just tired to the point of exhaustion from the heavy seas and it ended well.
BUT ... that's not the part of the day that made me seem like a stud.
The captain got on the radio and called around looking for better vis for us for a second dive. The deep ball on a reef had blue water. On board was a father and two sons diving rebreathers and a father and two daughters who were newly minted OW divers. The plan was for me to buddy with the dad and his son since the other son was the rebreather diver who surfaced tired and stressed. He was going to sit out the second dive. We'd get dropped on the ball for a drift dive in 90 feet, pop bags, and get picked up after the boat took the father and his girls to a shallower site. The father and son splashed and disappeared. I jumped in and descended but they were nowhere in sight. I dropped to 90 and leveled off figuring I'd catch them if I finned with the drift. Nope. Turned out I was solo. I realized I had the wrong DSMB in my pocket. I had been teaching a solo diver class at Jules Undersea Lodge and only had my itty bitty short 1 meter/3.3 feet long Halcyon DSMB I use for teaching and not my 6 ft. long one I used for ocean diving. Great. Big waves and a small bag. I've seen Open Water and dated one of the women cast in the movie to boot. I figured my best bet for not getting run over by a boat and for not ending up adrift was to anchor myself in place in shallow water. When I reached a spur and groove system in the coral wall, I knew where I was. If I followed the grooves, I'd end up among a bunch of mooring balls. I also thought maybe the boat would be there? I found a mooring and began looking around for a hull. I visited two or three sites. No boat. Oh, well ... At that point, I decided to just pop my DSMB and then hang out on a mooring until picked up. I shot the bag and surfaced. As I was spooling up the line, I heard hands clapping. I turned around to see the captain and the family standing on the bow about 30 feet away. "What amazing navigation!" the captain said as everyone continued to clap.
After I climbed the ladder, people were asking who I was and how I did that. I just shrugged it off and said something like, "Eh. I'm just the training director of PSAI."
What I really was, was lucky. But, they didn't need to know that.
Has anyone else lucked themselves into stud status?
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