Are you prepared for the environment you’re diving in?

by Don Reynolds

My best dive buddy, Mike Rowley, lives in Lodi, California. Fortunately, we’re able to get together a few times a year and enjoy the warm waters of the Caribbean. I live in the Northeast (New York), and I’m not real fond of cold water. But Mike had been after me to come to the west coast to do some diving, and I finally relented.

It was about a three hour drive from his house down to the Carmel area. Once there, we went to a local dive shop, picked up some tanks and weights and headed over to the park where we hoped to dive. We were lucky! The park regulations limit the number of divers to fifteen two-man teams, and we were number fifteen. Within the next few hours, I’d be wondering just how lucky I had been.

We reached the entry site and took our time exploring the area before we decided to suit up and get in the water. The cove was gorgeous, with sea lions basking in the sun on the far side before slipping into the water for a little exercise and a bite to eat.

Our equipment wasn’t an issue unless you consider diving in 50 degree water with a 7mm wetsuit, gloves, and a hood an issue. We entered the water and as it trickled into my wetsuit, I knew this was going to be a “cool” dive. Approximately twenty minutes into the dive, I was beginning to get a good chill and signaled to Mike that it was time to ascend. We had seen some really great sea stars, cucumbers, and anemones as we navigated through the kelp. We ascended slowly, continuing to enjoy all that nature had to show us and relishing the time we could spend together underwater.

During our surface interval, we had the opportunity to meet some of the local divers who came frequently to the park. Many were wearing dry suits with doubles or pony bottles as a redundant air supply. We didn’t think too much about that at the time. We should have!

Mike learned from the other divers that just beyond the point there was a great area to take some underwater photographs, so we decided to go there on our second dive. We just needed to drop in the water at the entry point and swim along the edge of the cove through the kelp forest until we reached the described area.

When we had finished our surface interval, we suited up again and according to our plan headed along the edge of the cove to the point. Mike was getting some great pictures. Practicing the rule of thirds we began to head back but the swim was difficult. It seemed like we weren’t making any progress at all. We were fighting our way through the kelp and it really didn’t look like the path we had taken on our way out to the point.

Paying strict attention to our gauges, we found ourselves dangerously low on air. We decided at this point our only alternative was to surface, get a bearing, and hope we could make it back to shore. As we broke the surface, we found ourselves smack in the middle of the kelp and nowhere close to the exit point. Mike had a little more air than I but we decided we would try to drop below the kelp shelf sitting on the surface and make our way back to the exit point. He was able to submerge but I was not. I was now alone in the middle of the kelp bed, cold and very tired. I put some air in my BC and decided that if I pointed myself towards the shore possibly the current and a gentle arm motion would bring me in. I knew I couldn’t kick for fear of getting entangled in the kelp.

After what I imagined to be ten or fifteen minutes, I checked to see how far I had traveled, only to learn I hadn’t moved at all. Now I was exhausted from the exertion and colder than I had ever been. I dropped my weight belt and it felt like my body just went into a spin on the surface. I just lay on my back in the water. I wanted to go to sleep not knowing or caring if the current was taking me out to sea. I do remember it was very peaceful lying there and at that point, I really didn’t care what was going to happen.

Suddenly I heard a voice –“Are you okay? Can you grab the oar?” I thought it was part of my dream until I heard it a second time. Another diver had been alerted by Mike that my whereabouts was unknown. Mike didn’t know what happened to me or where I was – on the surface or on the bottom. The other diver had jumped in his kayak and paddled out to the kelp bed where I was stranded. As I grasped the paddle he kept speaking to me and then jumped in the water alongside of me. He removed my knife and began cutting me free from the kelp that had become entwined around one of my legs preventing me from moving in any direction. The kelp was not tightly wrapped around my leg so there was no indication that I was entangled or I was just too cold to feel it.

Two more divers came over in a Zodiac and helped me aboard. I just collapsed in the bottom. Who showed up next – Mike! He swam back out to find me putting himself and possibly the others in jeopardy by trying to supplement their efforts.

Is there a lesson to be learned by sharing this event? I believe there is.

First, let’s look at the environment we were diving in. I’m confident in my diving skills in warm water. I’m comfortable in warm water and have been able to master buoyancy control to a level of proficiency and breathing techniques so that I’m no longer an air hog. I know how long an 80 should last me with plenty of time to spare for my ascent and safety stop.

However, I’m not comfortable in a cold water environment and my skills aren’t as sharp in those conditions either. Though Mike has done most of his diving and training in this area, the extra weight we needed to submerge and the air requirements of the colder water weren’t taken into consideration. Additionally, we weren’t as familiar with the dive site as we needed to be. If we had asked more questions, we would have learned that there was a strong current around the point that would take us for a ride, it did – the reason for those redundant air tanks.

Quoting from a DAN January/February 2005 issue, “While we may have the skills and experience to dive in one particular environment, we can readily find our skills and knowledge lacking as we enter a different realm.”

Scuba diving is a challenging sport. We see nature underwater that 99% of the population will never see, unless it’s at an aquarium or on TV. Don’t be foolish enough to think “it” can never happen to you. I’m normally a very conservative diver but on this one occasion I just didn’t pay enough attention to what I had already learned but didn’t put into practice.

Shortly after this incident, I had the opportunity to thank my instructor Louis Hernandez for drilling into our heads what to do in an emergency situation. Stop – think – take the appropriate action. If you’re on the surface and you’re breathing, half the battle is over. If I had panicked, not dropped my weight belt or continued to exert myself, I probably would have gone down and become just another diver statistic. Additionally, one of the first things I did when I returned home was get my dry suit certification. It has sure made the northeast waters less chilling.

Don Reynolds is the President of The Scuba Sports Club in Westchester County, New York. Check out their website at www.thescubasportsclub.org.