I didn't manage to get in the water this weekend.  I should have been going up to Rosehearty on the Moray Firth on Saturday, but getting up at silly o'clock wasn't appealing after a Friday that started with a 6.30 am meeting and ended with a rehearsal that finished at 9.30 pm.  And on Sunday I had a tree to cut down. 

As I walked along the beach at Carnoustie on Sunday, the water was crystal clear.  You could see every frond of seaweed, every tiny shard of shell in  the coarse sand.  I don't know whether the vis at Catterline would have been as good - it's much more silty, and gets stirred up easily by the resident seals - but I did wish I were underwater.

In the end I nearly was: the dogs swam and then shook themselve all over me so I got nearly as wet as I used to before my drysuit was fixed.  And I had a lovely time beachcombing, which is the next best thing to diving.

It'll be a fortnight before I'm back in the water - I'll be in Gloucestershire next weekend, clearing up my late mother's flat.  I do hope the weather holds.  It's about time we had a decent summer, with good vis, no storms, no days blown out due to easterlies, no constant heavy rain...  If I'd started diving last year I might not have seen it through, conditions were so bad so often; it would be great to show last years' trainees what diving's really all about. 

Now that the clocks have gone forward we should be beginning our Wednesday evening dives soon.  I can't wait to get wet again!

Underwater adventure.

Continuing the scuba story:

On Sunday April 11th I had my second open-water dive.  Montrose Sub-Aqua Club has a boat-house at Catterline, near Stonehaven (roughly 20 miles south of Aberdeen), with several small islands and reefs close off-shore and not too deep, so it's perfect for novice divers.  Sunday was one of those gorgeous spring days, sun sparkling off the water, bright and clear and warm, and we were promised two dives, one before and one after lunch.

I did my first open-water dive three weeks ago, down to about 5 metres, and had a bit of trouble getting and staying down, so I'd added another 8 lbs of weight to the 24lbs I'd needed in the swimming pool.  One of the main challenges of diving is the sheer weight of the kit you have to wear: I'm whacked before I ever get in the water.  I'm assured it gets easier when you're used to it, and of course you don't feel the weight underwater, but on land - boy, oh boy!  On the plus side, people keep telling me I'm too light - music to my ears, as I'm no sylph.

So: second dive.  I was diving with Barrie who, like most instructors, is very used to the vagaries of beginners.  I had trouble getting down but eventually I made it to the sandy bottom.  We did a couple of technical exercises and then set off to swim a gully between the beach and a small island.  In good visibility we saw plenty of starfish and some dead-men's finger corals, and got down to about 10 metres.  But I was having trouble with my buoyancy and found myself rising to the surface much faster than the recommended 15 metres per minute.  Not dangerous from that depth, but uncontrolled and meaning Barrie also had to surface quickly to make sure I was OK.

We went back down - I sank much more easily, for some reason - and did another exercise before finding the anchor rope and going up it, at the recommended rate this time, to un-kit before clambering back into the boat.  Barrie's suggestion that I'd be "agile as a gazelle" was rather wide of the mark - more like "stranded whale" - but elegance was never my strong point, and at least I was in...

Back to the boathouse for lunch and to refill the air cylinders, then my third dive, again with Barrie (poor man).  I had even more trouble getting down, spending ages at the surface before I began to sink (why does that happen?  Dunno yet) and my trim wasn't right - I was listing to starboard the whole time.  Managed to hitch the kit around enough to get fairly level, and we set off to have a look round and get down to 15 metres.  Lots more to see down there - tiny brown and white crabs scuttling across the sand, dahlia anemones, sea urchins, and plenty more starfish and dead-men's fingers.  Barrie shone his torch hopefully into crevices to check for lobster, but no luck.

As we went deeper I began having problems keeping my feet down: as my head went down air was getting into my boots from the rest of my drysuit and I was just about inverted.  I did the forward roll that's supposed to solve the problem - one of the exercises we'd practised on the morning dive - but it didn't do the trick.  Tried again - no result.  I couldn't get my feet down.  To make things worse, with all that thrashing about my fins had come loose.  It turned out later the boots were half off my feet with the fins still attached, but it felt as though I was going to lose them completely, so I stopped kicking.  I could feel myself rising, fast, to the surface but once I got there things didn't improve because I put air into my drysuit instead of my buoyancy compensator (BC - air-fillable jacket like a life-preserver), so more air was going to my feet and it was difficult to hold my head out of the water.  By now I was panicking.  My regulator kept falling out of my mouth, so I was swallowing gouts of seawater.  I did remember to wave my arm over my head, the signal for "I'm in trouble", and I yelled for help, but I had no idea where the boat was or whether anyone could hear me.   

I don't know how long that went on - it felt like several minutes, but was probably much less - and then Barrie was filling my BC with air and someone was telling me to put my hand through something on the boat.  I was relieved of my kit and pushed and hauled into the boat, more like a stranded whale even than before lunch, and collapsed on the bottom-boards, where I stayed until we got back to the boathouse.

Everyone was very kind, and made it seem like an ordinary occurrence - maybe it is, and I shall see others in the same predicament over the next few weeks.  For their sakes I really hope not. 

Lessons learnt: I need more weight, preferably ankle weights, both to get down and to keep my feet down.  And I need to remember to fill my BC at the surface.  I've been mentally practising that.  Every time I picture myself floundering on the surface I think "now inflate BC, now inflate BC", so that it will become an automatic response.  Since the "action replay" is still showing regularly on my mental screen, the programming stands a strong chance of working.

So - many thanks to Barrie for saving my life, and I hope for his sake that someone else gets to take me down next time!  I did consider giving up and settling for snorkelling, but not for long.  Well, I've bought all the kit now, haven't I?  Shame to waste it, and a winter's training, for a minor setback.

P.S. Apparently it's quite normal to go through all that - everyone comes up feet first at least once in their diving career, I'm told.  I guess we all have to learn from our mistakes...
Diving again on Sunday :-)