Today's dive was an education which I probably needed but could have done without.
Bob and I dove Day Island Wall, which is a truly lovely dive. You swim out along a plateau at 50 feet, and suddenly the world falls away into darkness -- something which normally elates me, because I feel like I'm flying.
But today, as I crossed the edge of the wall, I looked down to check my depth gauge, and realized I had just enough water in my mask that I couldn't read it. So I went to clear my mask -- this is something I do multiple times per dive. I'm quite good at it, and it doesn't even break the rhythm of the dive. But today, when I went to clear, the mask completely flooded. Suddenly, I was suspended in the dark, and unable to see. I don't like that, and I know I don't like it. I tried to clear again, and again, the mask was completely flooded. A third time -- and now I'm disoriented and beginning to feel that I don't know where I am or what position I have in the water. (Bob says at this point I did a beautiful back flip -- he thought I was having fun.) I know I've just gone off the edge of the wall, and I don't know how deep the bottom is, and I certainly don't know what's happening as far as depth or orientation in the water. I try again to clear, without success. I still can't see, and now I'm really tumbling. I'm hoping Bob will touch me, because that will give me a point of orientation, but I fail to signal him that I'm in distress.
By this time, my breathing is really rapid, and I begin to get water when I breathe, most likely due to failing to isolate my nose (which is in the flooded mask). Not a lot of water, but enough to add to my rapidly increasing anxiety. I don't know where I am; I don't know where the bottom is; I can't see, and I can't clear the mask, and I don't know where my buddy is. Then I feel a rock with my hand. I grab it and vent everything in my wing, thinking that if I get as negative as possible, I'll at least be stable, and then I can start to sort things out. I stop moving. The first order of business is to slow my breathing, which has gotten completely out of control. Then I can check around the mask skirt to try to figure out what is causing it to flood -- I never did figure out what it was, but I solved it, and got the mask cleared. I discovered Bob lying on the bottom next to me (we were at 50 feet -- somehow, I had gotten back over the lip of the dropoff) watching me carefully.
For the first time since my 2nd OW checkout dive, I encountered the desire to go UP. None of the other issues I've encountered underwater have brought me nose to nose with the urge to go UP -- UP, where air is, where things make SENSE.
The reason I'm posting this is to tell others that, even after 160 dives and a lot of classes, including passing DIR-F, you can encounter a situation that pushes you hard against the panic button. Having read lots of posts here about panic helped -- I actually thought about Walter's many posts about rapid breathing and panic, and recognized that if I slowed my breathing, that would stop the spiral of anxiety from getting completely out of control.
And I also posted it because there's another lesson here . . . I know I have an issue with disorientation when I can't see. I've done a little desultory work on it from time to time, but I think I've gotten somewhat complacent. It's a weak spot, and I think the ocean finds your weak spots. Every dive I do for the foreseeable future will involve mask flood and clear exercises, and some mask-off swimming, until I'm so comfortable with all the above that I don't care if I have a mask on or not.
A good diver is always learning -- I wish some of the lessons weren't quite so painful
Bob and I dove Day Island Wall, which is a truly lovely dive. You swim out along a plateau at 50 feet, and suddenly the world falls away into darkness -- something which normally elates me, because I feel like I'm flying.
But today, as I crossed the edge of the wall, I looked down to check my depth gauge, and realized I had just enough water in my mask that I couldn't read it. So I went to clear my mask -- this is something I do multiple times per dive. I'm quite good at it, and it doesn't even break the rhythm of the dive. But today, when I went to clear, the mask completely flooded. Suddenly, I was suspended in the dark, and unable to see. I don't like that, and I know I don't like it. I tried to clear again, and again, the mask was completely flooded. A third time -- and now I'm disoriented and beginning to feel that I don't know where I am or what position I have in the water. (Bob says at this point I did a beautiful back flip -- he thought I was having fun.) I know I've just gone off the edge of the wall, and I don't know how deep the bottom is, and I certainly don't know what's happening as far as depth or orientation in the water. I try again to clear, without success. I still can't see, and now I'm really tumbling. I'm hoping Bob will touch me, because that will give me a point of orientation, but I fail to signal him that I'm in distress.
By this time, my breathing is really rapid, and I begin to get water when I breathe, most likely due to failing to isolate my nose (which is in the flooded mask). Not a lot of water, but enough to add to my rapidly increasing anxiety. I don't know where I am; I don't know where the bottom is; I can't see, and I can't clear the mask, and I don't know where my buddy is. Then I feel a rock with my hand. I grab it and vent everything in my wing, thinking that if I get as negative as possible, I'll at least be stable, and then I can start to sort things out. I stop moving. The first order of business is to slow my breathing, which has gotten completely out of control. Then I can check around the mask skirt to try to figure out what is causing it to flood -- I never did figure out what it was, but I solved it, and got the mask cleared. I discovered Bob lying on the bottom next to me (we were at 50 feet -- somehow, I had gotten back over the lip of the dropoff) watching me carefully.
For the first time since my 2nd OW checkout dive, I encountered the desire to go UP. None of the other issues I've encountered underwater have brought me nose to nose with the urge to go UP -- UP, where air is, where things make SENSE.
The reason I'm posting this is to tell others that, even after 160 dives and a lot of classes, including passing DIR-F, you can encounter a situation that pushes you hard against the panic button. Having read lots of posts here about panic helped -- I actually thought about Walter's many posts about rapid breathing and panic, and recognized that if I slowed my breathing, that would stop the spiral of anxiety from getting completely out of control.
And I also posted it because there's another lesson here . . . I know I have an issue with disorientation when I can't see. I've done a little desultory work on it from time to time, but I think I've gotten somewhat complacent. It's a weak spot, and I think the ocean finds your weak spots. Every dive I do for the foreseeable future will involve mask flood and clear exercises, and some mask-off swimming, until I'm so comfortable with all the above that I don't care if I have a mask on or not.
A good diver is always learning -- I wish some of the lessons weren't quite so painful