That initial "oh god" moment.

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g1138

Contributor
Scuba Instructor
Divemaster
Messages
3,073
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Location
Bay Area, in CA
# of dives
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Story time!

I was flipping through my log book just now.
Let me preface this with a question:
A) How many dives did it take you before you finally didn't have that "oh god" moment during the initial descent?
And what finally caused you to get over it?

Or in the case of you water babies out there:

B) At what dive did you finally have your first "oh god" moment?
And what caused it?


For me it was Dive 31 before my first "oh god" moment; I was 8 months into my dive career. Here we were, snapped into a trapeze for some Blue Water Scientific Dive training. Visibility was about 6inches.....between each Chrysaora fuscescens - Sea Nettle jellyfish. We were boat diving close to Sand City's Embassy Suite's Hotel in Monterey Bay, California.
blwaterrig.jpg d10_506-bluewater-dive.jpg Blue Water Sci Diving
Chrysaora_fuscescens_DLC2010-08s.jpg Pacific Sea Nettle


The 8 of us were all at 40ft dangling off 5ft lines trailing to one point; attached to a trapeze, attached to a boat. Basically floating targets in a Chrysaora shooting gallery with some fun swell added into the mix.
Bottom was 80ft below us, no reef, no reference (other than the jellies), and great Monterey Bay, CA viz.
20ft of lateral murky viz, so you could see all the hundreds of jellies coming right at you!
Every fin kick, every bubble, every spazzy movement of a diver would spin 10 or so jellies onto a new collision course.

It was about 10mins into the dive when my buddy palmed a jelly away, into my face.

And that was my dual dive moment of first jelly sting and first "oh god we have 40 more minutes of this, I-am-going-to-DIE!!!!". :crazyeye:
 
I guess I have never had a moment like that on a descent. I have had a few when re-boarding a boat in very rough water after a dive though. Frankly, if I or my buddy ( unsually wife Debbie) fell anxious or ill at ease at the start of a dive, we won't do it. SImilarly, if during the dive there is discomfort, a gear problem, or simple anxiety or stress, we will end the dive. I can honestly say that in just under 1000 dives, I can't recall thinking "oh god, when will this end." On some training dives I have come close, but otherwise, when we want a dive to end, it ends. I think that's the way it should be with all divers. It is better too, when you are diving independently, as Debbie and I invariably do, either off on our own, or having cleared a "separate profile in advance with the boat crew.
DIvemasterDennis
 
Every boat dive I've done since the beginning was just "go down the anchor line"--so the crew said. So I just did that -- no "oh God's". Except maybe once 2 years ago in AL (Gulf of Mex.). The Capt. dropped a 5 lb. weight on a line down to what seemed to be a wreck the size of a car. Was told obviously not to pull myself down the line as that would move the weight. Big current, poor viz. Had to swim down like hell and into the current while keeping as close to the line as possible (hard work--those SPLIT FINS were really movin'!)). Made it down the 85'. Buddy was swept away near the surface & inflated his sausage. Even turning around to see him while fighting my way down would have meant losing sight of the line. I just poked around a little and surfaced. That was probably an "oh God". I was more tentative my very first OW checkout dive heading to 20 fsw from shore--not nervous, but that was my first dive. I've never really been nervous going down a line (except the one "oh God" maybe).
 
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Never had one, but I still occasionally think about how long I've been dropping through nothing before the bottom comes into view on dives down to 300' or so. It's more 'gee, that's cool' than 'oh God', though.
 
It took about six months to a year before the pre-dive apprehension went away, but I'd never call it an "Oh, God" moment. On the other hand, it took about five years before the heart pounding when any direct ascent was started went away. Too, too many control losses (a lot of them instructor-induced) created ascentophobia, and it took a long time to fix.
 
I don't know about an "oh god" moment... Wife and I were diving the Duane. Beautiful surface conditions, ripping current when we got to the deck. We trundled around using the wreck to block the current. We went into the "bridge," looked around, went back out and were hanging on the railing looking at the up line on the bow about 30 yards away dead into the current. My wife was still relatively "new" (diving within our limitations, but still newish). I looked over at her expecting to see wide eyes. She just grinned at me and went over the rail and "spidermanned" across the deck and up the mooring line. That's when I knew for sure and for certain I had a dive buddy for life. :D
 
I had one a few years ago, crewing on a local dive boat. After all the divers were back on the boat, I went in to unhook us from the wreck. On the way down, I thought it was odd that I heard the boat's engines start up... and then stop. Typically the captain puts the line on a tuna ball, throws it off, powers up, backs the boat off the ball, and circles the area until I get back up. You can usually hear the engines the whole time you're in.

Got to the bottom. Still no engines.
Unhooked the chain. Still no engines.
Dragged the chain out to the sand. Still no engines.
Came back up the line. No engines.
Did a safety stop. No engines.
Surfaced. NO BOAT!

Wind had kicked up during the day and there was a good surface current running. Choppy and sloppy.

I look in every direction... and what do I see? Nothing. In any direction. Not a thing. Not our boat. Not any other boats. We were miles offshore, so no land in sight. Me... and a tuna ball... and nothing else. For nearly 45 minutes.

Choppy.JPG


The "oh God" moment was really only when I had surfaced and looked around. To be honest, I didn't think much about not hearing the engines other than at first when I heard them start and then stop. It was after I came up that I started piecing things together.

When I surfaced and didn't see the boat, I almost immediately determined what I thought happened... and I was right. When the captain backed the boat off the ball, a gear line hanging off a stern cleat (that someone forgot to pull up) fouled the props. He had to shut the engines down, and put a diver in the water to clear them. That guy had to get his drysuit back on, get in his gear, get in the water, and start cutting... and cutting... and cutting. If you've ever tried to clear props fouled with 20 feet of line... under a boat... that's being tossed around the open ocean... you know that ain't easy.

And all the while the current and wind are pushing that 52ft boat further and further away.

Me... and a tuna ball... and nothing else.

For nearly 45 minutes.

Truthfully, I'm not very worried past the initial "WTF" moment. I'm on a line, with a float on one end and 75lbs of chain on the other. I'm right over a known wreck location. The boat knows I'm in the water... and where I am. I'm thinking that, worst case, if the boat can't get back they will call another boat or the Coasties.

And I keep thinking that. For 45 minutes.

Just me... and my tuna ball... and nothing else.

For 45 minutes.

I can tell you that it is VERY SURREAL to be in the middle of the ocean with ABSOLUTELY NOTHING visible, in any direction, as far as the eye can see. I don't mean like "I'm on a cruise ship in the middle of the ocean and I can't see anything... other than this cruise ship." I mean "I am in the middle of the ocean - I am in the ocean - and I can't see anything, in any direction, as far as the eye can see.

Just me... and my tuna ball... and nothing else.

For 45 minutes.
 
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Did you name your tuna ball "Wilson" ?

Funny thing is... the captain's name is Jim Wilson. So, yes, the "Wilson" jokes were flying.
 
I had one a few years ago, crewing on a local dive boat. After all the divers were back on the boat, I went in to unhook us from the wreck. On the way down, I thought it was odd that I heard the boat's engines start up... and then stop. Typically the captain puts the line on a tuna ball, throws it off, powers up, backs the boat off the ball, and circles the area until I get back up. You can usually hear the engines the whole time you're in.

Got to the bottom. Still no engines.
Unhooked the chain. Still no engines.
Dragged the chain out to the sand. Still no engines.
Came back up the line. No engines.
Did a safety stop. No engines.
Surfaced. NO BOAT!

Wind had kicked up during the day and there was a good surface current running. Choppy and sloppy.

I look in every direction... and what do I see? Nothing. In any direction. Not a thing. Not our boat. Not any other boats. We were miles offshore, so no land in sight. Me... and a tuna ball... and nothing else. For nearly 45 minutes.

Choppy.JPG


The "oh God" moment was really only when I had surfaced and looked around. To be honest, I didn't think much about not hearing the engines other than at first when I heard them start and then stop. It was after I came up that I started piecing things together.

When I surfaced and didn't see the boat, I almost immediately determined what I thought happened... and I was right. When the captain backed the boat off the ball, a gear line hanging off a stern cleat (that someone forgot to pull up) fouled the props. He had to shut the engines down, and put a diver in the water to clear them. That guy had to get his drysuit back on, get in his gear, get in the water, and start cutting... and cutting... and cutting. If you've ever tried to clear props fouled with 20 feet of line... under a boat... that's being tossed around the open ocean... you know that ain't easy.

And all the while the current and wind are pushing that 52ft boat further and further away.

Me... and a tuna ball... and nothing else.

For nearly 45 minutes.

Truthfully, I'm not very worried past the initial "WTF" moment. I'm on a line, with a float on one end and 75lbs of chain on the other. I'm right over a known wreck location. The boat knows I'm in the water... and where I am. I'm thinking that, worst case, if the boat can't get back they will call another boat or the Coasties.

And I keep thinking that. For 45 minutes.

Just me... and my tuna ball... and nothing else.

For 45 minutes.

I can tell you that it is VERY SURREAL to be in the middle of the ocean with ABSOLUTELY NOTHING visible, in any direction, as far as the eye can see. I don't mean like "I'm on a cruise ship in the middle of the ocean and I can't see anything... other than this cruise ship." I mean "I am in the middle of the ocean - I am in the ocean - and I can't see anything, in any direction, as far as the eye can see.

Just me... and my tuna ball... and nothing else.

For 45 minutes.

From all your posts, I got the impression that you were a very experienced and accomplished NJ Wreck diver.

45 minutes on the surface is an Oh God moment when you can hold onto or tie off to an anchor over a know wreck in a heavily dived area? You must have had very little excitement in your diving so far.
 
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