I finally lost (and fortunately found) my first piece of dive equipment. I was late for a dive this morning (alarm clock issues). The rule my buddies and I go by is wait 15 minutes then go, don't hang and get angry. When I arrived at the site their cars were locked and they were nowhere to be seen. I dressed and donned quickly and literally jogged down the "thousand steps", of course this is much easier diving on 12 LBS and with my PST 65cf (the bullet). As I rounded the bottom of the stairs I could see both of them on their backs swimming on the surface just past the surf zone.
Well going through my predive safety check in record time and with only 1-2 foot swells (as we say ... ankle biters) I just walked quickly through the surf. It was at this juncture that my dive light lanyard (with dive light attached) quietly and without warning slipped from my wrist and settled in the foam in about 3 feet of water. I should mention the light is my HID light cannon. I love to use it for all types of diving day or night. But retail it runs $199.00 so it isn't exactly chump change.
I met up with them, spent a minute swimming out to the drop point and spent a few minutes catching my breath. From pulling into the parking space street clothed to this point was under 20 minutes total - I was seriously winded. Between breaths I commented on their conversation and thanked them for moving a bit more slowly this morning. We went down and swam along the reef a ways and they both paused pulled out their day lights and began looking at a rather large moray eel - surrounded by cleaner shrimp. I was going to do my usual impression of the sun underwater and shed some real light on this event. Ahh what, hey, where in the heck is my divelight? I'm looking around frantically. I signal them both and sign that I'm going to look for my light. They decide to join me. Well, what a search it was. We spent AN HOUR looking. Retraced all of our steps. On the surface again both of them insisted seeing me with the light in hand when we descended. Visibility wasn't stellar at 15 feet but not exactly molasses either. We executed every method of searching they eventually went down as a buddy pair and did expanding squares. I eventually ended up with fins in hand walking through waves. In the furthest edge of the beach within a foot of the reef in 3 feet of water there it was! I was so relieved, mainly that our arduous search ended happily. But later when talking about it, we realized that if I had indeed lost the light at the point of entry into the water - surge had moved the relatively negatively buoyant light over 25 meters from where I went in.
It was a great lesson in search and recovery - something so small, in what previously didn't seem to be so vast a space, acted upon by changing forces and time, becomes a chance moment of success or failure. I was just about ready to give up as I made those last few steps in the surf, the foam was thick and vis poor at that spot, and I was thinking to myself "why are you looking here when you were absolutely no where near this place!"
That means this particular dive light has set two unique firsts for me - my first flood and my first loss (and found). Makes me wonder what new and exciting adventures this little black brick of plastic and magical light has in store for our future? Whatever happens I will be far more sympathetic for the next poor soul who tells his sob story that didn't end as pleasantly.
Well going through my predive safety check in record time and with only 1-2 foot swells (as we say ... ankle biters) I just walked quickly through the surf. It was at this juncture that my dive light lanyard (with dive light attached) quietly and without warning slipped from my wrist and settled in the foam in about 3 feet of water. I should mention the light is my HID light cannon. I love to use it for all types of diving day or night. But retail it runs $199.00 so it isn't exactly chump change.
I met up with them, spent a minute swimming out to the drop point and spent a few minutes catching my breath. From pulling into the parking space street clothed to this point was under 20 minutes total - I was seriously winded. Between breaths I commented on their conversation and thanked them for moving a bit more slowly this morning. We went down and swam along the reef a ways and they both paused pulled out their day lights and began looking at a rather large moray eel - surrounded by cleaner shrimp. I was going to do my usual impression of the sun underwater and shed some real light on this event. Ahh what, hey, where in the heck is my divelight? I'm looking around frantically. I signal them both and sign that I'm going to look for my light. They decide to join me. Well, what a search it was. We spent AN HOUR looking. Retraced all of our steps. On the surface again both of them insisted seeing me with the light in hand when we descended. Visibility wasn't stellar at 15 feet but not exactly molasses either. We executed every method of searching they eventually went down as a buddy pair and did expanding squares. I eventually ended up with fins in hand walking through waves. In the furthest edge of the beach within a foot of the reef in 3 feet of water there it was! I was so relieved, mainly that our arduous search ended happily. But later when talking about it, we realized that if I had indeed lost the light at the point of entry into the water - surge had moved the relatively negatively buoyant light over 25 meters from where I went in.
It was a great lesson in search and recovery - something so small, in what previously didn't seem to be so vast a space, acted upon by changing forces and time, becomes a chance moment of success or failure. I was just about ready to give up as I made those last few steps in the surf, the foam was thick and vis poor at that spot, and I was thinking to myself "why are you looking here when you were absolutely no where near this place!"
That means this particular dive light has set two unique firsts for me - my first flood and my first loss (and found). Makes me wonder what new and exciting adventures this little black brick of plastic and magical light has in store for our future? Whatever happens I will be far more sympathetic for the next poor soul who tells his sob story that didn't end as pleasantly.