What we don't see down there...

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Mike Boswell

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I just don't log dives
I drifted slowly over the coral, looking down, looking forward, looking side-to-side, and occasionally, looking up, in case there were cool things to see in the 40-odd feet of clear water above me. I passed the cave and kept going. So it wasn't being in a hurry, or for lack of looking, that I missed him.

But something told me to look back, and when I did, I saw the four other divers grouped twenty feet away, looking into the cave I had just passed. And there on the sandy bottom of the cave lay a large, beautiful green turtle, sleeping soundly, in full view. In an endearing display of symbiotic harmony, he had a fist-sized snail stuck to the top of his shell, grazing on the algae.

How did I miss him? And why do I miss so many stationary things, like the big scorpionfish I had passed the day before? And why does my wife see these hidden or stationary things better than I do? Is it a guy thing?

It really is maddening, the thought of missing things in plain view.
 
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I think there's an artform to seeing things sometimes. Our mind sets certain expectations, and things that don't fit those expectations can go unnoticed ... particularly if they're not moving. I have watched divers swim right over a 10-foot octopus laying out in the open sleeping off a happy meal without ever noticing it. I have many times swam past something interesting only to have a dive buddy signal me with their light and point it out ... and as someone who typically carries a camera I've cultivated a pretty good skill at noticing things.

And sometimes you just have to know what you're looking for. I was once on a dive in British Columbia where all the other divers were coming up marvelling about the giant Puget Sound King crabs they were seeing. When I said I hadn't seen any they gave me this funny look ... as if to say, how could you NOT see them? The next dive one of the other guys swam over, picked up this giant "rock" and handed it to me. As I was reaching for it (somewhat perplexed as to why he was handing me a head-sized rock), I suddenly noticed the legs. Shining my light on its underside, I was delighted at all the beautiful red, yellow and blue coloration. And looking around, I suddenly realized there were at least a half-dozen of them laying within a few feet of us.

Many critters are very good at blending in with their environment ... even to the point of "hiding" in plain sight ... it's how they survive ...

... Bob (Grateful Diver)
 
A dive only lasts 45 miinutes, sometimes quick, in between looking and doing and going and thinking and coming and diving, sometimes excruciatingly long, and with all this and sometimes falling asleep or crapping yourself you can't do everything

Good to see you Mike Boswell
 
Many critters are very good at blending in with their environment ... even to the point of "hiding" in plain sight ... it's how they survive ...
Quite a few years ago, while still pretty green, I found myself in a group of 3 divers on a dive in Cozumel--a husband, wife, and me. The wife was shooting video. The dive was the slowest I have ever been on for that reason, and I was getting frustrated waiting for her to stop shooting whatever it was she was filming a the moment. I was staring at some coral, waiting to move on, when suddenly a fish appeared before my very eyes. It had been there the whole time, of course, fully blended into the background until my brain finally realized what was right in front of me.

That moment was a revelation to me. I realized that too often I was to intent to get somewhere on the dive, when in reality wherever I was going was no better than wherever I was, and wherever I was was better if I actually took the time to see what was there.

I haven't been on a led dive for quite some time now, but when I am on such a dive, they are almost always moving too fast for me. Maybe you can't smell the roses on a dive, but you can slow down and try to see where they are hiding.
 
Slow is nice. When I slowed down on my last few dives, I noticed octopus dens, wolf eel dens, a bunch of big sea squirts, tiny fish/crabs, and a lingcod eating a rockfish. It was a pleasant change of pace from gunning it.
 
It really is a matter of resolving the animal from its background. If you're expecting something or looking for it, you are more likely to see it. I have days when I'm very good at this, and days when I can't seem to find anything. Sometimes I wonder if it's just a matter of how relaxed and "present" I am (as opposed to thinking about land things, or stressing about my diving).
 
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That moment was a revelation to me. I realized that too often I was to intent to get somewhere on the dive, when in reality wherever I was going was no better than wherever I was, and wherever I was was better if I actually took the time to see what was there.

I haven't been on a led dive for quite some time now, but when I am on such a dive, they are almost always moving too fast for me. Maybe you can't smell the roses on a dive, but you can slow down and try to see where they are hiding.
That's exactly why I don't like ops that wont allow a buddy pair to go along at their own pace.
Some of the best dives I've had has been the ones where I've been given the brief, told where not to surface and then not bothered to keep up with the rest. The small stuff can be as good as the small - And those stupid longnose hawkfish is hell to get a decent picture of when they're hiding in the fan corals..
 
It really is a matter of resolving the animal from its background. If you're expecting something or looking for it, you are more likely to see it. I have days when I'm very good at this, and days when I can't seem to find anything. Sometimes I wonder if it's just a matter of how relaxed and "present" I am (as opposed to thinking about land things, or stressing about my diving).

This was definitely the case with the conch shells, which were covered with brown algae and looked no different from the rocks. But once you had found one and gotten a good look at it, the bottom was suddenly littered with the damn things. It makes me think that maybe divers would benefit from watching some underwater videos before taking that trip to that fabled XYZ dive destination, so that they could train their brain to see those rare seahorses, or frogfish, or whatever.
 
What we don't see down there....no kidding. Sunday I almost did a Steve Irwin. I was looking at a big snapper about 30 feet away as I glided down and leveled off to hide behind a coral head. About a foot off the bottom I looked down and saw a sting ray who was hiding in the sand, about 3 feet in diameter. I was about to lay right on top of it. My chest was just above his stinger.
He gently lifted off and swam off. Whew....
 
Knowone: A dive only lasts 45 miinutes, sometimes quick, in between looking and doing and going and thinking and coming and diving, sometimes excruciatingly long, and with all this and sometimes falling asleep or crapping yourself you can't do everything

Emile - On some dives, I have closed my eyes, breathed deeply, and tried to relax into a profound Zen-like trance. But no matter how hard I have tried, I confess that I have never been able to fall asleep. I think the problem is those pesky little snapping shrimp making all that racket ...
 

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