We recently went on a dive trip of the western carib - Honduras, Belize, Cayman and Cozumel. I am sharing my story not for the drama, but that other divers, new or old, can maybe learn something from it. We made a few small mistakes, but luckily, ended up alive.
I've retired from diving. If you're looking for some brand new gear for a great price, I'll be listing it soon. (lol)
If you have dove this area, I would love your thoughts on what happened. (good or bad)
Friday, Jan. 16th, our lives changed. It was the worst of days, it was the best of days.
Below is a copy of my (long and detailed) recap of the event, when Davez saved my arse, bigtime.
Whew.
_____________________________________________________
So to set things up, both Davez and I are "advanced" open water diver certified, and have done some pretty awesome dives in some pretty crazy places. (Indonesia, Borneo, Thailand, Viet Nam, PR, etc. ) I'll admit I've never really fallen in love with the idea of scuba, and get nervous each and every time. We pushed ourselves a bit further this summer, buying all own gear, (uncle works for Mares) thinking that will force us to go places and do something together.
My fear, I suspect, stems from an "incident" in Palau Sipidan (Borneo) in '06 where the majority of our dive group desended (incl DiveMaster) and left some of us at the top. It was a pinnacle wall dive, with huge currents, and once we went down to find them, all you saw was blue. No land, no bottom, just water. We were 110 ft down in a matter of seconds, and what was a VERY dangerous situation ended up fine. But I was scarred and scared for life.
Flash ahead to this dive trip, a wall dive was sprung on my in some shady Belize weather. I was still getting used to my gear, diving in general, and just really was not enjoying myself. Ever since baby, I get SO worried about being a mom, it's hard for me to get into it. I warned the DM I was feeling skittish, and asked if he'd stick by me (and David/my dive buddy). He agreed, but then went down with the others, leaving us floating once again, at the top, with crazy waves and a boat captain yelling that he had to move the boat.
I bailed. I got too nervous. I've never had a "panic attack" in a textbook sense, but from what I read about, I think I just had my 1st one that moment. It was very hard for me to be this way, but my mind over-ruled my body.
We did some really simple easy shallow dives in Honduras (Roatan) the next day, and I was surprisingly fine. Medicated, but fine.
So we hit Grand Cayman, the last stop on our dive trip. It was a crappy day at sea, and storms were coming into port later in the day. One area was already closed, but they said to hit the Devil's Grotto/Eden Rock area, it was sheltered and had nice stuff. We couldn't miss Cayman diving!
We picked a reputable dive shop with the reef RIGHT in front. Got geared up, seas were ok, but getting busier. The guy said it was a simple navigation - basically two big ***-tays of coral heads, you swim out, go down to about 40-50ft, and either head left or right around the "boob", checking out some caverns and swimthroughs with windows on the way. I mentioned I hadn't done many of those, he said 'no worries, just feel comfortable going in, or turn around and exit, there was room.
So we geared up and made the long strenuous surface swim out to the spot. We chose to go left (Mistake: don't know why, right would have made more sense with the wind and currents) and had a nice dive for about 40 minutes. We followed a turtle (temptress) and passed a bouy line on the way. I pointed it out to David, thinking we should follow that up in a few minutes, just a bearing marker. We had a few minutes left on air, thought we were heading in the right direction (we were not) and after our safety stop, we went up.
To our shock, we were at least 300 ft from shore, and much further down past the dive shop than we thought. Way past it. My heart just about sank.
I didn't have much air left to go back down and swim, nor enough weights on to go back down a few feet to kick underwater. We had to kick on the surface. Well, TRY.
After few minutes of seeming we were going nowhere but further down the coast, and deeper out to sea, I stopped. My snorkel was working too well, often "shutting off" my breath. Using my regulator was futile as well. David helped pull me, but somehow the simple act of grabbing my BCD (inflatable vest) was freaking me out more. Logically I knew I couldn't sink with my wetsuit and BCD on. (Mistake: What I should have done was drop my tank and weights right off the bat, a small price to pay for easier movement)
But I knew we were in trouble. BIG trouble. The winds were making the sea downright pissed off now, and once I saw that we had ONE chance to get UP CURRENT to a break in the sea wall, and that was it for miles... well... panic set in. The PTSD of the crashing waves, tired legs, the panic of the situation... honestly, I did not stay cool. Not cool at all.
David, being the strongman he is, was pretty level about the situation. I remember him trying the soft gently approach, the firm approch, the "just relax, I'll pull you in" aproach. But my mind and sea had taken over my body, I was helpless. It's horrible just to type those words.
But I was never hopeless. I KNEW he would get us out of this. I didn't know how, the situation was truely and honestly very serious. We had to make that ramp area, or I would never be able to get up the sea wall. The waves would knock us out trying. I remember screaming. I recall looking for help, and no one was there. 3000 shipmates and Georgetown full of locals, and no one. Just David.
He pulled on me and the last thing I remember was smashing against the black lava rock wall. I can kind of remember struggling a bit, getting pushed in and out with the tide surge, but at some point, I became unconcious. (we later think it was the panic that did it, not a hit, as I had no marks on my head) While there was no bright white light and angels, I did dream about something. (what?) At one point I remember hearing David screaming for help, and his voice was off in the distance, so I knew I was alone. I get tears in my eyes and a lump in my heart every single time I hear that scream. I feel so horrible for rendering us so helpless. I guess I was out for a "few minutes" (hard to tell in a time like this) and in a movie-style fashion, David eventually woke me up by slapping my square across the face. (the only part of this story that makes me giggle) When I came around, I was sitting at the top part of the surge, and he was screaming for me to get up. We finally got me out of my gear, and somehow got up and walked to safety. I was covered in blood, lots of cuts and scrapes from the rocks. David's hands were filled with tiny urchin barbs, and later we both had useless swollen claws until we got tipsy enough to start digging them out. (ouch!) I am covered in some HUGE nasty bruises, and a whole slew of "no-see'um" bites from Honduras, which I'm allergic to. It's not pretty.
He eventually ran to the road, hailed a taxi, and we eventually got (most of) our gear back and went back to the ship. I was pretty much out of it (shock) and all David told the shop was that we "drifted a bit far down" and that was it. (I'll be sending them a copy of this to at least alert them. Wish I could blame them for this all, but really all they are guilty of is not second-guessing "Advanced divers" and warning us of the winds/tides, and the sea wall and lack of escapes. And the "titays" were NOT clearly defined. The reef went on for a long time!)
At some point I stopped crying enough to promise David I would forever take out the diaper pail, (a promise I have since recanted in my recovery, haha) and vowed to retire from diving, effective immediatly. (which I will never recant.)
David saved my life. Literally. Had it not been for his physical and mental strength, and his ferocious perciverence... I would have most likely died that day.
I am grateful for his strength, and most honored to be his wife.
Before we left on this trip, I just content being a mom, and hated to leave my baby. I was in one of those places where his snoring was driving me up the wall, and I think we often drove eachother nuts. We went on this vacation because GOOD MARRIAGES MAKE GOOD PARENTS. Obviously this event has greatly affected us. I think we're still in shock that it happened. We appreciate eachother once again. We're kind to eachother more often than not. We'd hold hands, but they're too swollen and painful, but maybe next week we will. The night after this happened, we were in our tiny ship room, and I was silently sobbing as the ship rocked us back and forth. I was alive. Ava still had her mom and dad. And David's ferocious snoring percivered, like the sweetest lullabye there was.
I've retired from diving. If you're looking for some brand new gear for a great price, I'll be listing it soon. (lol)
If you have dove this area, I would love your thoughts on what happened. (good or bad)
Friday, Jan. 16th, our lives changed. It was the worst of days, it was the best of days.
Below is a copy of my (long and detailed) recap of the event, when Davez saved my arse, bigtime.
Whew.
_____________________________________________________
So to set things up, both Davez and I are "advanced" open water diver certified, and have done some pretty awesome dives in some pretty crazy places. (Indonesia, Borneo, Thailand, Viet Nam, PR, etc. ) I'll admit I've never really fallen in love with the idea of scuba, and get nervous each and every time. We pushed ourselves a bit further this summer, buying all own gear, (uncle works for Mares) thinking that will force us to go places and do something together.
My fear, I suspect, stems from an "incident" in Palau Sipidan (Borneo) in '06 where the majority of our dive group desended (incl DiveMaster) and left some of us at the top. It was a pinnacle wall dive, with huge currents, and once we went down to find them, all you saw was blue. No land, no bottom, just water. We were 110 ft down in a matter of seconds, and what was a VERY dangerous situation ended up fine. But I was scarred and scared for life.
Flash ahead to this dive trip, a wall dive was sprung on my in some shady Belize weather. I was still getting used to my gear, diving in general, and just really was not enjoying myself. Ever since baby, I get SO worried about being a mom, it's hard for me to get into it. I warned the DM I was feeling skittish, and asked if he'd stick by me (and David/my dive buddy). He agreed, but then went down with the others, leaving us floating once again, at the top, with crazy waves and a boat captain yelling that he had to move the boat.
I bailed. I got too nervous. I've never had a "panic attack" in a textbook sense, but from what I read about, I think I just had my 1st one that moment. It was very hard for me to be this way, but my mind over-ruled my body.
We did some really simple easy shallow dives in Honduras (Roatan) the next day, and I was surprisingly fine. Medicated, but fine.
So we hit Grand Cayman, the last stop on our dive trip. It was a crappy day at sea, and storms were coming into port later in the day. One area was already closed, but they said to hit the Devil's Grotto/Eden Rock area, it was sheltered and had nice stuff. We couldn't miss Cayman diving!
We picked a reputable dive shop with the reef RIGHT in front. Got geared up, seas were ok, but getting busier. The guy said it was a simple navigation - basically two big ***-tays of coral heads, you swim out, go down to about 40-50ft, and either head left or right around the "boob", checking out some caverns and swimthroughs with windows on the way. I mentioned I hadn't done many of those, he said 'no worries, just feel comfortable going in, or turn around and exit, there was room.
So we geared up and made the long strenuous surface swim out to the spot. We chose to go left (Mistake: don't know why, right would have made more sense with the wind and currents) and had a nice dive for about 40 minutes. We followed a turtle (temptress) and passed a bouy line on the way. I pointed it out to David, thinking we should follow that up in a few minutes, just a bearing marker. We had a few minutes left on air, thought we were heading in the right direction (we were not) and after our safety stop, we went up.
To our shock, we were at least 300 ft from shore, and much further down past the dive shop than we thought. Way past it. My heart just about sank.
I didn't have much air left to go back down and swim, nor enough weights on to go back down a few feet to kick underwater. We had to kick on the surface. Well, TRY.
After few minutes of seeming we were going nowhere but further down the coast, and deeper out to sea, I stopped. My snorkel was working too well, often "shutting off" my breath. Using my regulator was futile as well. David helped pull me, but somehow the simple act of grabbing my BCD (inflatable vest) was freaking me out more. Logically I knew I couldn't sink with my wetsuit and BCD on. (Mistake: What I should have done was drop my tank and weights right off the bat, a small price to pay for easier movement)
But I knew we were in trouble. BIG trouble. The winds were making the sea downright pissed off now, and once I saw that we had ONE chance to get UP CURRENT to a break in the sea wall, and that was it for miles... well... panic set in. The PTSD of the crashing waves, tired legs, the panic of the situation... honestly, I did not stay cool. Not cool at all.
David, being the strongman he is, was pretty level about the situation. I remember him trying the soft gently approach, the firm approch, the "just relax, I'll pull you in" aproach. But my mind and sea had taken over my body, I was helpless. It's horrible just to type those words.
But I was never hopeless. I KNEW he would get us out of this. I didn't know how, the situation was truely and honestly very serious. We had to make that ramp area, or I would never be able to get up the sea wall. The waves would knock us out trying. I remember screaming. I recall looking for help, and no one was there. 3000 shipmates and Georgetown full of locals, and no one. Just David.
He pulled on me and the last thing I remember was smashing against the black lava rock wall. I can kind of remember struggling a bit, getting pushed in and out with the tide surge, but at some point, I became unconcious. (we later think it was the panic that did it, not a hit, as I had no marks on my head) While there was no bright white light and angels, I did dream about something. (what?) At one point I remember hearing David screaming for help, and his voice was off in the distance, so I knew I was alone. I get tears in my eyes and a lump in my heart every single time I hear that scream. I feel so horrible for rendering us so helpless. I guess I was out for a "few minutes" (hard to tell in a time like this) and in a movie-style fashion, David eventually woke me up by slapping my square across the face. (the only part of this story that makes me giggle) When I came around, I was sitting at the top part of the surge, and he was screaming for me to get up. We finally got me out of my gear, and somehow got up and walked to safety. I was covered in blood, lots of cuts and scrapes from the rocks. David's hands were filled with tiny urchin barbs, and later we both had useless swollen claws until we got tipsy enough to start digging them out. (ouch!) I am covered in some HUGE nasty bruises, and a whole slew of "no-see'um" bites from Honduras, which I'm allergic to. It's not pretty.
He eventually ran to the road, hailed a taxi, and we eventually got (most of) our gear back and went back to the ship. I was pretty much out of it (shock) and all David told the shop was that we "drifted a bit far down" and that was it. (I'll be sending them a copy of this to at least alert them. Wish I could blame them for this all, but really all they are guilty of is not second-guessing "Advanced divers" and warning us of the winds/tides, and the sea wall and lack of escapes. And the "titays" were NOT clearly defined. The reef went on for a long time!)
At some point I stopped crying enough to promise David I would forever take out the diaper pail, (a promise I have since recanted in my recovery, haha) and vowed to retire from diving, effective immediatly. (which I will never recant.)
David saved my life. Literally. Had it not been for his physical and mental strength, and his ferocious perciverence... I would have most likely died that day.
I am grateful for his strength, and most honored to be his wife.
Before we left on this trip, I just content being a mom, and hated to leave my baby. I was in one of those places where his snoring was driving me up the wall, and I think we often drove eachother nuts. We went on this vacation because GOOD MARRIAGES MAKE GOOD PARENTS. Obviously this event has greatly affected us. I think we're still in shock that it happened. We appreciate eachother once again. We're kind to eachother more often than not. We'd hold hands, but they're too swollen and painful, but maybe next week we will. The night after this happened, we were in our tiny ship room, and I was silently sobbing as the ship rocked us back and forth. I was alive. Ava still had her mom and dad. And David's ferocious snoring percivered, like the sweetest lullabye there was.
