One of my worst guiding experiences was a night dive at Black Rock. This is a shallow wall with some areas having rockfall rubble, all thinly covered by coral. When diving as a drift, from North to South, my briefing is that we will meander back and forth over the rubble, alternating between the base of the wall and the max 30' deep sand. I ask to be informed of each divers tank getting to "half" (1500 psi) and tell my charges that we "need to" make it around the "point" by 700 psi, because there is often opposite current there, so I may pick up the speed around 1200 psi.
This buddy pair was a well insulated but spunky daughter and her more insulated dad with less spunk. He did not like the shallow surge / reflection near the wall so he stayed at the sand rubble line the whole dive. He did not signal half / 1500; I had to ask at 35 minutes and he was at 1200. I wrote on my slate that we needed to pick up the pace, and as described in my briefing I started pulling with my hands in the sand to get around the point, he did not use his hands. Just as we were rounding the point, 30 yards from calm protected bottom and surface water, he decides he has to surface because he is at 500 psi.
It took another 40 minutes for me to tow him in to shore, after first swimming nearly 200 yards away from the wall, with him whining profanely the whole time. When we got to shore he rolled over onto the tank and removed all gear in the deep sand and then stormed away to his car. His daughter apologized profusely for her dad, told me it was one of her best dives ever, and I told her thank you and to just leave her gear on the beach sidewalk.
I'm damn lucky his ticker didn't blow a gasket. I had to continually remind myself of that fact during the hour it took me to get all the gear back to my truck, the hour it took me to clean the gear, and when I had to use my Debit Card to pay for my Pau hana beer at midnight.
This buddy pair was a well insulated but spunky daughter and her more insulated dad with less spunk. He did not like the shallow surge / reflection near the wall so he stayed at the sand rubble line the whole dive. He did not signal half / 1500; I had to ask at 35 minutes and he was at 1200. I wrote on my slate that we needed to pick up the pace, and as described in my briefing I started pulling with my hands in the sand to get around the point, he did not use his hands. Just as we were rounding the point, 30 yards from calm protected bottom and surface water, he decides he has to surface because he is at 500 psi.
It took another 40 minutes for me to tow him in to shore, after first swimming nearly 200 yards away from the wall, with him whining profanely the whole time. When we got to shore he rolled over onto the tank and removed all gear in the deep sand and then stormed away to his car. His daughter apologized profusely for her dad, told me it was one of her best dives ever, and I told her thank you and to just leave her gear on the beach sidewalk.
I'm damn lucky his ticker didn't blow a gasket. I had to continually remind myself of that fact during the hour it took me to get all the gear back to my truck, the hour it took me to clean the gear, and when I had to use my Debit Card to pay for my Pau hana beer at midnight.
