Yeah, 60ft is nothing like 65ft! I remember the first time I went down to 65ft - after years of only diving to 60ft. I'm not sure how I fell victim to such a runaway descent. Not sure why my computer didn't start warning me! I guess I should have noticed how much darker it got as I plummeted from 60' to 65ft. I must have been really narc'd, because I covered that entire distance in what seemed like no time. I was confused, disoriented, developed vertigo. My sac rate doubled at that dramatically increased depth. My reg started breathing really hard... in fact my tanks started to buckle under the increased pressure.
The last thing I recall was looking up from 65' and seeing my buddy...way above me in the distance...up at 60' and thinking "I can't believe it's going to end this way." I mean, there I was, in Poseiden's clutches at 65ft, breathing what was surely my last breath, as my buddy watched helplessly from 60ft. It was surreal, though. Calm. As if there was really nothing wrong. As the blackness began to creep in from the edges of my vision, it almost seemed as if I could reach up from the watery depths and take my buddy's hand. I know! Crazy, huh?
Fortunately my buddy recognized I was in distress. (Not sure how, as I was so out of it that I forgot to put my mask on my forehead.) He too reports the strange feeling that he could have reached down and taken me by the hand. Fortunately, he spent a few weeks in Europe during grad school, so using his computer and a dive slate he was able to calculate that, although I appeared to be 1.524m below him, I was actually FIVE FEET below him. He had a decision to make. To abandon his buddy and save himself...or to risk everything. Both our lives flashed before his eyes. He recalled the two of us growing up, fond memories of little league, and high school, then college. He remembered how I was the best man at his wedding, that he was my child's godfather, and then he recalled... that I had his truck keys in the pocket of my drysuit undies!
Taking control of the situation he abandoned all rational thought, and in a "do or die" decision he plunged from 60ft to 65ft! He somehow managed his own descent to be able to slow and stop at 65ft, and grabbed me by the tank valve while deftly venting his wing. He had to struggle a bit to find my inflator hose - a miracle in itself since he had no idea I had recently changed from the 16" version to a 14" version. Now two inches doesn't sound like much, but keep in mind that at that depth two inches is actually 50.8mm!
With incredible skill and precision, he carefully managed a controlled ascent - flaring the whole way I can only presume - and safely brought us up from from 20m all the way to 18.288m. He even ensured that we did a "deep stop" at 19.144m - no sense in risking microbubble formation by coming up so fast!
:cool2: