TekCamp Part #2 – Wax on wax off: don’t fear the Triangles Mark Powell

Day 2

As soon as I woke in the motorhome on Tuesday morning it was clear I had drunk a few too many of the 60 Carlsberg. Well done me. However it didn’t take long for the excitement to kick back in and with the kettle whistling, it was clearly time to get up.


Within minutes of the kettle boiling Tara (the crazy Canadian) appeared at the open door with a stupidly huge travel mug begging for the remaining hot water. When I say begging, I mean hanging around long enough for me to finally switch on my ‘polite gene’ and actually offer the girl some water.

The hot water subsequently led to a tea bag, the tea bag led to some sugar, and the sugar led to some milk. In conclusion she took all the tea and joined us on the comfy seats for breakfast. Trudy (with the unwritten camping rules) followed shortly, but she brought her own breakfast and was welcomed accordingly.

As a result the camper was quite full and our German neighbour, upon waking, merely got a wave that morning - but no tea; such a polite man to be treated so poorly.



And so ‘The Breakfast Club’ was born.



The club was adjourned, we sparked up our engines and all headed down for Day 2 of TekCamp, pondering what the day had in store.

Martin delivered his morning debrief as we enjoyed a tea, and then passed us off to our instructors for the day. Kerri and I would be joining the decompression legend Mark Powell for the day. This was great news and we were both really looking forward to meeting him.

In hindsight Kerri and I have decided we were a bit star struck. In my mind Mark Powell is featured more than most in magazines etc. I have also read many of his articles and interviews, not to mention he is the renowned author of “Deco for Divers.”

Nevertheless it didn’t stop us bounding over to him with hands outstretched to torture the man.








Introductions all done Mark explained we would be concentrating on stage handling and buoyancy control, with the aid of visual references. This was fine by us; I definitely needed more experience with a deco bottle for my future planned dives in Malin, and my buoyancy can be … ‘wobbly.’

We were briefed on the finer points of stage marking and rigging. We were then joined by safety diver ‘Finn’ who kindly donated an ali7 stage bottle as I didn’t have one of my own.



Once in the water we retrieved our stages, clipped them off and descended down the shot line to one of the platforms. It was clear that I wasn’t really switched on. My descent was crap and if the S-Drill was for real I would be a widow. This would be devastating for the cat army at home, as I often forget to feed them, plus I’m not totally convinced Kerri’s life insurance covers her for tech diving.

So, with the prospect of me and the cat army living in a squat spinning in my head, we finally made it onto the platform.


Mark then set to work balancing out our trim and position in the water. This was quite fascinating. It was soon clear that by manipulating the position of my arms in the water I could counter balance the weight of the stage and stop the ‘wobbly’ effect whilst holding still. As Mr Powell was moving my hands around I couldn’t help envisage the ‘wax on – wax off’ scene from The Karate Kid. If you are too young or too old to remember this timeless 80’s classic; you are missing out, it’s a cracker.




The 'wax on – wax off' approach definitely did things to my trim and I quite enjoyed messing around with my position in the water. I contemplated signalling to Mark that he was ‘Mr Miyagi’ from The Karate Kid, but I couldn't think of the hand gestures.

Wax on - Wax off!

(c) copyright Jason Brown :: BARDO creative


As I had now completely switched off to the further instruction I was being given, I became a little stressed when it came to passing the stage cylinders around. My perfect still position was now faltering and I was fining about a little more than necessary.

Mark was pointing to his eyes, then to the wall, then to his eyes, then to the platform, then to his eyes, then to Kerri. At this point my poor mind caved in and all I could think of were triangles. I found out in the de-brief he wanted me to use the things he was pointing at as a visual reference.


Ah…


An hour had passed, we had done quite well and Mark thumbed the dive. I was pleased I understood him at last.

Lunch came and went and I enjoyed another finely cooked cheese burger, which would become a constant in my life for the duration of TekCamp. You can’t go wrong with a burger – diving food.

Howard Payne presented his talk: Dive and Survive, or as he eloquently put it; ‘stay out of the poo in the blue.’ This was a stimulating talk as it was something every diver could really associate with, reverberating a theme we all knew too well.



GUE instructor John Kendell then proceeded to educate us with a presentation featuring the work of the WKPP: Woodville Karst Plains Project. This was another crazy cave diving thing (does no-one dive in the sea anymore?) that scared the life out of me. John was a support diver for the world record breaking traverse from Turner Sink to Wakulla Spring. The dive itself sounded hectic, but John’s role was both difficult and critical to the success of the dive. It was a great talk.



Kerri and I then met up with Mark for our next debrief. Fellow Tekcamper Nicky (Diving Fundamentals) also joined us on the dive for some further stage handling madness. A more controlled ascent and improved S-Drill made for a decent start to the dive. Then all of a sudden Kerri stopped midway suffering an equalisation problem. Finn escorted Kerri to the surface demonstrating an “excellent ascent,” in his words, and she headed onto dry land for a tea. Clever girl.

This left only Nicky and I to conduct the skill circuit. Nicky was obviously no stranger to stage bottles and was more than competent in the water. I on the other hand, struggled. I just couldn’t get it together and ended up doing laps of Vobster losing the ability to stop fining. It was very frustrating. To make matters worse, once the dive ended my ascent was atrocious. What was going on? The day before I was a diving god and at that point I was barely able to stay still.


Darts. I should take up darts.


Shortly after as I continued to concentrate on dropping stage bottles I thought I heard a noise. 


The internal monologue followed:

Bong! ! !


  • What the fuck was that?


Bong! ! !


  • Jesus Christ. I’ve lost it. Mark Powell has sent me over the edge.


Bong! ! !


  • What the hell am i banging into?


Bong! ! !


  • Oh dear God, I’m narced out at 6m. I bet this is in his bloody book? I knew I should have bought it earlier.


Bong! ! !


  • I'm hearing bells… it’s the triangles … they’re ... they're ringing …





It turned out Mark, the stealthy bastard, had clipped off an Ali 80 to my butt ring and it was banging on my twinset. Stealthy bastard.




I hadn’t felt a thing.

That was one to the Welsh man.







Once we surfaced Mark could clearly see I was less than impressed with my performance with the stage bottle and suggested another weight check was in order. It appeared with only 70 bar in my twinset I could be a little light. We drained the tanks down to 30 bar and attempted a descent.

I almost held it at 2m with a little assistance, but couldn’t quite manage it. Another 1kg was in order.

It was excellent to complete a thorough weight check with an instructor like Mark, as I now have a proper benchmark for what is too light and just right. I put on a 2Kg tail weight and all was well with the world. Happy diver.

As I exited the water I met Paul Toomer who asked how I got on. I explained I was a bit frustrated with my performance on the day. He was brilliant. We both stood at the exit as he explained how a poor night’s sleep, a few beers, poor concentration could ruin even his next day’s diving and to simply write it off.

That worked for me and my mood improved.

Later that night I had a chat with Mark about it, as he signed my log book, he said I was being much too hard on myself and to relax a bit. Good enough for me.



Back on shore I regrouped with Kerri who had been receiving medicine from Howard Payne for her ear condition. This worried me greatly. Howard and Rohypnol go hand in hand. She was in good form and her ear seemed to be recovering from a slight blockage.


Another BBQ done we found ourselves back in the campsite grabbing a few more beers for the evening talk.


Rich Walker was the speaker on the evening talk presenting Wreck Diving in Norway. Rich has dived on many of the wrecks from Bergen, Sognefjord, Ă…lesund and as far North as Narvik, 200km into the Arctic circle. Many of these wrecks have significant histories, from being part of Hitlers Operation Weserubung, the code name for the German invasion of Norway in 1940, or part of the general losses of the war.



It was a fascinating talk and he had some truly magnificent photographs of the wrecks he had dived. This was my type of diving; a very engaging presentation.

Afterwards Kerri and I opted for an early night which was great as it stopped me from drinking the rest of the beer.


Day 2 done.

Day 3 - Rich Walker's Human Centipede

TekCamp Part #1 – The Long Way Round to meeting Paul Toomer

Day T-1

TekCamp had finally arrived … well sort of.


It was 4.30am on the Sunday, the motorhome was loaded with twinsets, kit, food and 60 cans of Carlsberg; what could possibly be more right with that picture?

Kerri and I fired up “Frieda” the 22 year old camper and headed to the ferry terminal in hope of reaching TekCamp before Monday morning at least.


I appreciate logistically there are more efficient routes to Somerset from Belfast, but ferry timetables and financial constraints dictated the ‘Long Way Round,’ all we were missing was Ewan McGregor or Charlie Boorman. In hindsight a support team would have been appreciated in the days to come, but more on that later.

The crossing was only 3 hours; we docked quickly and hit the shores of Scotland at 10.30am. It was here that Kerri and I made out first navigational error, in that we followed the sat nav. Sat navs are lying bastards. We turned right rather than left and took a ridiculously long ‘scenic route’ through the hills of Stranraer. It was pretty, and I am sure my parents would have enjoyed the views, but all we wanted to do was get to TekCamp and not strain the grossly underpowered van any more than was absolutely necessary.



The 389 mile 11.5 hour journey was hard work. Traffic congestion was horrendous. How can such a big motorway come to a complete standstill, and then just start moving again? Thankfully we had AC/DC blaring through the speakers and we both settled for singing different variations of “aye-e-eye-e-yo - Shake Your Foundations.






We may have amused other motorists in the queue rather than just ourselves.




The day light faded to black, the roads became narrower but finally the lying bastard got us to the campsite. We arrived to find a handful of tents already pitched, but no sign of life, so i opted for a quick beer to wind down a bit.



2 mins later a car pulled in with German registration plates and the steering wheel on the wrong side. It was Richard Roethe from Diverscorner blog. The nutter had driven more than twice the distance we had, departing from Dresden, and arrived at the same time; bloody German efficiency.

We had a short chat while Kerri prepared some pasta then Richard built his tent. Kerri and I had dinner; Richard retired to his nylon palace until morning.

Sleep was sporadic at best.



Day 1


The morning came quickly with excitement waking the campsite early. Richard joined us for tea in Frieda; a fatal flaw by us as it was now clear to the rest of the camp that we had boiling water…

We soon met a few of the other campers; Tara (a crazy Canadian), Trudy (the woman with the unwritten rules) and John (so polite i'm surprised he survied). They were all very friendly, equally excited, and curious as to what the day would bring. Collectively we started up the wagons and headed to Vobster Quay convoy style for our first proper day of TekCamp!

Driving into Vobster was amazing.



The car park was filling up nicely and the rather splendid TekCamp banners were everywhere. I found it strange, at nearly 35 years old to be so excited, but I really couldn’t wait to meet the instructors, other divers and get into the water to do some diving. Kerri and I were beside ourselves with excitement, it was all I could do not to blast the horn as AC/DC continued to blare from the speakers.




We parked Frieda and headed over to the seated area by the quarry for our first TekCamp briefing from Martin Stanton; the brains behind the operation. Every morning Martin gave a very concise roster of that would be happening that day and who we would be with, at the same time I gave a little chuckle as he reminded me so much of Rik Mayall’s character from ‘The New Statesman.’ Totally unfounded, but amused me to no end.




As the briefing continued Wife-buddy and I were allocated Paul V Toomer for the day. This was fabulous news. We had already requested Paul as an instructor and were thrilled that he was our introduction to TekCamp. Within 5 mins of meeting Paul it was clear we were going to get along famously with the tattooed South African.




Despite being there to learn stuff, I don’t think we stopped laughing all day. To meet an instructor of his calibre was amazing, yet after only an hour the banter was really starting to flow.


We also got to meet ‘Jim the safety diver.’ Jim was great craic too; he had flown over from Egypt to attend TekCamp and is a pioneer in his own right, delving into the madness of cave exploration. More on that later.


Out first dive was a weight check, in which i lost all the weight I had on, then onto propulsion techniques. We were shown how to frog kick correctly, hover, back kick (a bit) and how to use our dry suit for buoyancy. Using the suit for buoyancy was a unique experience. I didn’t touch my wing inflator all day, and being correctly weighted I found once the squeeze was taken off the suit I was 100% neutral in the water. It was an amazing feeling and I had a great dive enjoying the control.

photo (c) copyright Jason Brown
BARDO creative




Half way through the dive Paul also decided to interfere with Kerri. He took away 2kg from her pouch initially and then went back for the rest. In total we lost 6kg between us. Frightening to think we carried so much additional weight, but not as frightening as watching a swarthy, tattooed South African fiddle around your wife’s crotch.










Over lunch we had a de-brief discussing what we would be doing in our afternoon session. Paul was pleased enough with our ability, offering constructive advice on the back kick which we had yet to perfect. It is a difficult manoeuvre, which undoubtedly takes time to become proficient. Personally I was still adjusting to the ‘neutral bouyancy’ thing. I constantly felt I was going to float off, but never did; it was so bizarre.


After lunch we were treated to the first set of talks.


Our new friend Mr Paul Toomer gave a talk on Into To Technical Diving giving an interesting insight into what makes a diver move into tech diving. The conclusion was that there should be more women tech divers – I don’t have a problem sharing a car park with lots of women getting changed at a dive site; so i’m with you mate.




Next up was Rich Walker from Global Underwater Explorers explaining Project Baseline. It was an excellent presentation and really made me think about conducting a small project myself on our local dive site. It seemed to spark off a new enthusiasm for sites that were dived regularly and would give a new purpose to my diving.


Duncan Price from The Cave Diving Group then proceeded to horrify me as he described cave exploration in Wookey Hole. To be honest I have no interest in caves, certainly not ones of that nature, and wasn’t going to attend the talk. However I quickly became enthralled with the project and filled with amazement at what the man had achieved. Don’t get me wrong, the poor man obviously lacks the ability to be afraid, and was only compounded when he demonstrated his homemade sidemount rebreather unit, which had an uncanny resemblance to a Dyson hoover. Fascinating.



With the talks all done we regrouped with Tall Poomer (he’s a big fella) and discussed our next dive plan further. Campsite buddy Linda joined us for the next dive and we wandered into the green for some more fining and advanced stage handling.

My backwards fining was coming along nicely now. I appreciate my definition of backwards may be different to most, but I wasn’t going forwards as fast anyway.

We levelled over one of the platforms and Paul unclipped his ali80 stage and fired it over to me like a submarine rocket; he appeared to be enjoying the neutral characteristics of the bottle.

That was one to the big man.

I caught it (just) and finally managed to clip it off to my harness, then I sent it over to Kerri and she repeated the rotation until the stage ended up with Linda. I have never really been great with stage handling so I enjoyed the practice. Kerri is much better and it was apparent Linda was very comfortable as she clipped it off almost immediately.

Up’staged’ by 2 girls.

After an hour the boss man ended the dive and gave the signal to send up a dsmb. I enjoyed the skill and got my bag up no probs – the power of Halcyon!

Kerri had apparently ‘forgotten’ her Frog (poor Halcyon rip off) dsmb and didn’t send one up. I knew her game. The Frog dsmb is shit, and almost impossible to inflate in the water without minor dental surgery afterwards. I suspected she may have ‘forgotten’ it was in her pocket the whole time – but who am I to judge?

I shopped her later to Mark Powell.

A controlled ascent followed and we re-grouped on the surface. It was a fantastic end to the days diving and we both had an absolute blast with Paul. It was amazing to dive with him and the man is truly excellent in the water.

photo (c) copyright Jason Brown - BARDO creative


A BBQ dinner was ready by the time we got our kit off and completed our de-brief. The consensus was we were all great. Well, more or less. After dinner we left our tanks in for a fill of 32% and roared up the hill in Frieda to the campsite.

Upon arrival I took care of the essentials, i.e. I filled a cool bag with beer and headed to the barn to enjoy Mark Powell give an Introduction To Decompression Theory talk.

I figured I would need at least 10 tins to make sense of that madness. It was fascinating, and within 45mins I fully understood how the different decompression algorithms compared, including the rather confusing “gradient factors.” Mark also proved to be the most important speaker of the week as he was the only one to get a microphone, or perhaps because he’s small… who knows?



Once the talks were done more beers followed and we began to mingle among the important people. For fear of making a complete twat of myself on the first day by 11pm, Kerri and I opted for bed, and to be honest with the excitement finally fading I was bloody exhausted.

Day one had been and gone, and what a day it was. I had dived with one of the top dive instructors in the world, listened to the leading man on decompression theory and then enjoyed a beer with them.

TekCamp was proving to be more fun than expected and it had only begun…


Proceed to DAY 2 - Mark Powell, The Karate Kid and ... the triangles..

Burn all your certification cards!

I distinctly remember when I first tried to find someone to teach me to scuba dive I was a little bit overwhelmed and confused by the various agencies offering certification cards. In the end I chose PADI, mainly as it appeared to be more widely accepted than the alternatives, plus there was a PADI instructor nearby.



In hindsight I recognise that it doesn’t really matter, they are all accepted, kind of like Visa versus Mastercard. My visa however is not so widely accepted, mainly due to the fact that wife-buddy’s dry suit balance is still on it.

Lately I have noticed a lot of online discussion about various agencies and which is best and why. Since I completed my TDI courses I seem to have become even more aware of the different options for training. I was a little curious if I had chosen the ‘right’ agency.



So, this led me to decide for myself – which is the best?



I did a little lurking around the interweb forums to find out what was what. The results are in. Amazingly there is a common ground on this matter and the conclusion was;



It is down to the instructor, not the agency.”



Interesting.



This, in turn, led me to ask the question:


“Why are there so many agencies?”


I have no idea. I can’t find any real legitimate argument as to why there are just SO many training options. If it’s all down to the instructor, then it shouldn’t matter, especially as most of the top instructors are teaching for several different agencies anyway!



It’s all becoming a little confusing, and I am concerned there is going to be a scuba diver war. With all the acronyms around including: IANTD. GUE. TDI, PADI, BSAC, SDI, UTD – the whole thing is becoming frighteningly reminiscent of my home town, Belfast, which also has its own little abbreviations for various ‘agencies.’



So, in order to avoid the great scuba civil war I have decided there should be only one agency;



The Great Big Scuba Club (TGBSC)





I guessed it would still need to be an acronym; they do seem so very popular.


Now, as with any solution to a great conflict, The Great Big Scuba Club (TGBSC), can only be formed from an acceptable conclusion to the war. We don’t want war in scuba so I have a different idea:



A bar fight.



It makes perfect sense. All divers like a nice beer or 12 after a dive, so this seems like the optimal way to decide who will run TGBSC. Initially, I had figured on running TGBSC myself, but alas I don’t necessarily possess the relevant qualifications to front a whole new scuba foundation.

I know what you’re thinking; I’d be perfect due to good looks, charisma, good looks, charm, good looks, and long hair. However, I realise the masses probably wouldn’t buy it, plus … everyone likes a good bar fight.

Moving back to the “It’s all about the instructor not the agency” mentality, I have decided that every agency should submit its top instructors to take part. Once every agency has picked its representatives they are all sent down to the pub and the ‘The Great Scuba Bar Fight’ can begin.



The rules are simple:



Ă˜ All agencies submit 3 representatives.

Ă˜ All reps are sent to a small pub in Belfast, Northern Ireland.

Ă˜ 10 pints of mid-strength lager or cider must be consumed.

Ă˜ No Buckfast allowed – this would give an unfair advantage due to the aggressive tendencies it produces.

Ă˜ Once the 10 pints are finished everyone has to get wired in.

Ă˜ Reps are eliminated once unconscious or dead.

Ă˜ Last man/woman standing is the leader of The Great Big Scuba Club.



It’s a flawless system from what I can see. 




Or so I thought.



When I thought about if a little longer I worked out exactly how it will all go down:




  • PADI reps spend the whole fight on their knees, and won’t be able to throw a decent punch.

  • BSAC form a committee and by the time they contact all their members and finally decide to fight they will have been kicked to death.

  • GUE form a tag-team approach to the fight, but will be unable to have a last man standing as they won’t turn on each other.

  • UTD are so similar to GUE that they get confused and attack their own team members by mistake.

  • CDG show up in helmets and can’t be knocked out.

  • TDI deliver Paul Toomer, but he ends up on Jägermeister and is unconscious before it even starts.

  • Mark Powell will do very well, until the moderators’ notice he skipped the 10 pints for fear of a DCI hit, and will therefore be disqualified.
     
  • DAN swing by, but just keep trying to administer oxygen to everyone.

  • IANTD send in Phil Short alone. He will storm the place fully kitted in a Sentinel, pummelling everyone in his path. Then he will turn on the building, bringing it to the ground, killing himself in the process. 


In conclusion, although I have the solution to the numerous agencies problem in the form of The Great Big Scuba Club; there is no clear winner to spearhead it.


Ultimately it’s all about the diving. Never forget why you started. I started diving to look at things underwater while on my honeymoon in The Maldives. After that, I worked out I would be able to look at things underwater at home as well.




I trained with PADI originally, did some tech with TDI, and will probably do my next course with IANTD. It doesn’t really matter as long as you receive the proper training to enable you to conduct the dives you want in a safe and controlled manner.



So, I wouldn't go tearing up your certification cards yet ………… unless you think you could take on Phil Short after 10 pints?

Scuba diver beaten with club

Who wants to join a dive club?

Scuba diving is generally classed as a sociable past time as it revolves around a group of people sharing a common interest - scuba diving. I would regard myself as quite a sociable person, although in this age of digital networks it’s hard to grasp what sociable actually means. I am beginning to question if I like people at all, or if they like me; in real life that is.


I had over 2000 friends on my old myspace page, yet not so many want to be my friend on facebook; perhaps people are more ignorant on facebook. I don’t really know. Maybe everyone on myspace died, which would certainly explain its plunge in popularity. I hope whoever was last to leave dropped the keys through the letterbox.

Social networks are great but the main problem with internet buddies is that you can’t go diving with them. I can dive with a few, but not many. Most of my internet friends are from across the globe and don’t seem very keen to fly thousands of miles to join me on Sunday morning for a 45min wreck dive in a murky Irish Lough.

Selfish bastards.



As a result, most divers are proud members of a dive club. Everyone except me.





I used to be in a club, but it exploded……….. or imploded ……………. or disintegrated. It was hard to tell.


The club I used to be part of was basically the group of people I learned to dive with. There was the instructor fellow, a couple of DM’s and a few stragglers from previous courses that just seemed to 'hang out' with the instructor generally ‘helping out’ a bit.

When Kerri and I were learning I could have seen the other club members far enough, as it was quite intimidating learning a new sport with all the other “Jedi masters” around who had been doing it for ages. In hindsight, most of them were far from “Jedi masters” and were lucky to come back from any of their dives in once piece.


A standard conversation went like this;



ME: “What’s the deepest you can dive on air to?”

GUY: “Not sure, about a mile I think.”

ME: “Really? That’s great.”



ME: “What regs are you using? I need to get own soon, and would appreciate some advice.”

GUY: “I have a black one and a yellow one.”

ME: “Really? That’s great”



That was when I found myself turning to the internet for scuba advice.



Then there were "The dives."


Now, when I get to dive site I am usually in the water within 40 minutes. I don’t think this is particularly fast, but it does entail donning my undersuit, my dry suit, getting my kit together, donning it, checking it, locking the jeep up and then walking down to the water. It’s not horrendously slow either.



I recall arriving at the dive site with the club at 11am, as instructed. When we got there everyone else was already standing around. ‘This is good’ I thought. It was a shore dive, so all we had to do was kit up and walk in. 

It was a fascinating spectacle to watch 10 divers take SO long to get themselves sorted; arranging who was with whom, and who would be diving first ……. second ……. third ….. last ……. never. It resulted in Kerri and I standing around in our semi-drys, sweating in the sun until 3pm when we finally got a cylinder on.

It was scandalous.

When we eventually got our kit together we always seemed to be last in and were then hurried into the water while being asked not to be too long.



Then there was “The Liability.”



The Liability” shall rename nameless for so many reasons it hurts. Ultimately, it just wouldn’t be fair to do that to the fellow on the World Wide Web. I am not the world’s best diver, I have never stated that, but I honestly believe I am competent and safe. Safer than "The Liability" anyway.



This guy was a legend. He had all the best kit; wet suit, dry suit, undersuit, new BCD, expensive torch - the works. However, this was all wasted as most of his dives were conducted on the boat, finding far too many reasons not to actually get in the water.

I remember a dive when he actually did get in;

The guy in charge of the dive told him to descend first, then let us newbies follow him down. Dutifully ‘The Liability’ gave Kerri and I the ‘thumbs down’ and descended. 2 mins later as Kerri and I were about to follow him he shot up out of the water like a cork! 

He must have come 6 feet out of the water. His BCD was bulging at the seams it was so stuffed with air, his eyes were staring wide, and the craziest thing was, somehow, he had ended up with his octopus in this mouth rather than his main reg!


Outstanding.


The next dive we had with him was from the shore. As usual Kerri and I were waiting around to “share” the weights. This translated to standing on the beach in semi-drys for 2 hours in the hope of finally borrowing a weight belt. At this stage “The Liabilty” had all the club weights on; it appeared to be the only thing he didn't own. Even with 60lbs of lead on his belt, the guy was skimming along the surface, basically snorkelling with scuba gear.


ME: “Good dive?”

THE LIABILITY: “Great thanks. I think I need more weight, but I got wet and that’s the main thing”


Outstanding.



He had another go with 2 of the other guys in the club. They explained, after 5 mins into the dive they turned around to signal to one another and “The Liability” had simply gone. They surfaced a minute later and found him floating near the boat.


DIVER: “What happened mate?

THE LIABILITY: “I lost you, so I dumped my weight belt”

DIVER: “You dumped your belt at 20m?”

THE LIABILITY: “Yeah. You know me – everything by the book.”



Outstanding.



I vowed to never dive anywhere near The Liability ever again.




There were numerous other crazed moments in the club. Dives were cancelled last minute for reasons so obscure it was staggering; diggers were parked in front of the dive store, random hurricanes were forecast, the boat sank, cars broke down, pasta had been spilled on the kitchen floor, everyone was still drunk, the list was endless.



Eventually Kerri and I decided enough was enough. We bought our own cylinders, completing our kit, did some internet research on local dive sites, and basically began diving on our own. 

We have the best dive club ever.

In our club, dives never get cancelled, we go on lots of holidays, no one is ever late, everyone pays their own way, the divers are all at the same training level, dives are conducted properly in a safe manner, we always have fun, everyone gets along famously and we all go home and get into bed together.

I know divers who swear by their club, and are extremely dedicated to its operations. It takes a lot to run a successful club and without a doubt there are advantages. I get my air fills from a local BSAC club; they are nice people and have often asked us to join them.

Ultimately however I have been scarred for life and can’t imagine diving with a large group of divers in such fashion ever again. I just can’t go back to it.

It’s a sad story I know, but please don’t cry. Wife-buddy and I dive very happily, mostly on our own.

In the end we were beaten to death by a club.

I beat I Are Diver with my club!

This is Andy – he’s a deep sea diver!

When I first started diving my friends and family would often refer me to others, saying;

“This is Andy – he’s a deep sea diver!”


I Are Deep Diver
I quite liked the term and made very little effort to correct them, partially because it made me sound really cool, secondly because I have become a complete bore to my the non-divers friends by constantly correcting them on such things as ‘fins not flippers’ and ‘mask not goggles.’

I knew I had reached a very bad place on a particular occasion when I explained to a guy from work that I didn’t breathe ‘oxygen’ at depth, as he suggested, but would only use said gas to aid decompression and in fact breathed air when diving. I then proceeded to explain humans couldn’t breathe oxygen when ‘deep sea diving’ due to an elevated PPO2 level, would definitely convulse and most likely die.


He proceeded to explain that I was not a deep sea diver, but was in fact, a dick. I was then treated to a brief outline as to why that was the case.


The whole point of scuba diving is to go under water. I was able to work that concept out very early on, even without my PADI training. However, once you are trained to scuba dive it brings a whole new question; “How deep can I go?

When I completed my initial PADI courses I was qualified to 30m with no decompression allowed. Now I’m qualified to 45m with as much deco as the dive requires. I know plenty of divers that can dive to 60m, and there are those who can, and do, go deeper. So, what’s considered to be “deep?”

I discovered very early in my diving that depth is not a number. Depth is relative.

PADI Deep Diver

I will never forget my first ‘deep dive.’ As part of my PADI advanced open water course I had to complete a number of dives that exceeded my current training at the time of 18m. I did my PADI Open Water and Advanced Open Water courses back to back so the increase in depth was quite a fast tracked affair.





The majority of my training at that stage was conducted in shallow waters of 8-12m. I had grown quite accustomed to those numbers and when I was told that I would be diving to 22m on the next training dive I nearly did a poo. As usual, my ever faithful wife-buddy was by my side and also nearly did a poo.

Not only was the prospect of the deep dive truly frightening, but we also had to wait an entire week before it would actually happen. This was brilliant, as it gave Kerri and I a whole 7 days to look up lots of tragic scuba diving related deaths of divers going ‘deep.’

The week quickly disappeared and the cold February morning soon arrived bringing the ‘deep dive’ along like its evil twin. When we got to the dive centre wife-buddy and I stayed close together, huddling as if to somehow combine what element of courage we had left into a suitable quantity that could be used to conduct the actual dive. We picked out the gear we needed from the schools supply and headed to the hard hull boat nearby.

Suppressing incredible fear we boarded the ship and headed to the dive site out in the middle of Strangford Lough. I can’t remember the actual name of the dive site; I was more focused on the regulators I would be using…. the "Cressi Sub" ones.

Let me explain.

The dive school had a big old box of regulators. They all worked fine(ish) but some worked better than others. The Tusa regs were always picked first as they breathed quite well, whereas the "Cressi Sub" was the fat, ginger child with thick glasses held together with elastoplasts. In short, no one wanted to use them for any sport, let alone diving.

Big old box of regs

I sat on the boat staring at the heavily worn second stage and browning mouthpiece of the "Cressi Sub," attempting to create a valid situation where they could fall overboard, leading to me getting my paws on the magnificent Tusa regs. Despite many failed scenarios of tripping, passing out and feigning temporary insanity I begrudgingly set my kit up knowing that every rotation of the A clamp was effectively a nail in my coffin.

I glanced at wife-buddy who was putting together her personal brand new set of Tusa regs. Such dark thoughts….

We received our dive brief, buddy checked and conducted a giant stride off the ship and surface swam over to the shot line. Once everyone signalled they were good, I put the old banana coloured mouth piece in and descended into the gloom.

The divemaster escorting us was excellent. He descended backwards looking up at me constantly as the metres ticked by; 2m ………. 5m ………. 10m ………. all the way down to 22m. I held his gaze as if his eyes were providing the very air I was sucking, like a cheap Thai boy, from the "Cressi Subs."

In true PADI fashion I hit the silty bottom on my knees and froze.


Titanic 30m+

When I first decided to be the best scuba diver in the world, wife-buddy and I spent a lot of time reading all the internet, especially anything related to diving. We quickly learned that we would become qualified to dive to 30m, and then dive the world. A little research also showed that The Titanic was 3810m deep. How the hell was I supposed to dive that with a PADI Advanced Open Water certification card? 30m was not deep at all.





Oh, how wrong was I?


At that moment 22m was deep.

Very deep.

The deepest.

Ever.

I stared at the divemaster as he continued to give me the OK signal. Finally my senses returned, I sucked some more air down the "Cressi Sub" and returned the signal. I wasn’t really ok in the normal sense but I was convinced I could hold it together for the short dive we were briefed on.

I followed the DM away from the shot, never allowing his fins out of my sight. A beluga whale could have asked me directions to the local tanning salon and I wouldn’t have allowed my sight to deviate from those Tusa split fins. Tusa = safety, that was the rule for the day.

15mins later I signalled 50bar and thumbed the dive. I had done it, I was alive and thank all the gods there had ever been, it was time to go.

I couldn’t believe what happened next.

There I was, ready to go, and the DM was fooling around with some stupid reel and a big plastic orange sausage thing. It seemed to go on FOREVER. I was now at 49.6bar. I had to leave. I tugged his shoulder and gave the ‘low on air’ signal and thumbed up again. I began to get agitated. The guy had lost it, what was he doing?

I was now at 49.2bar. This was getting critical.

The DM finally appeared to have finished whatever he was building and gave me an OK signal. Then the devil himself must have possessed him as he grabbed my octopus and purged it into the orange sausage.

What the hell was this maniac doing?!! That’s MY air you bastard!!


SMB - for rogering
What was that orange thing for? Had he lured me down here with the pretence of a deep dive but was instead going to roger me in secret with an inflatable phallus? How would I face Kerri after such an ordeal?

Before I could instigate a form of defence against the subsequent orange balloon invasion, and a suitable explanation for Kerri, it shot out of sight with the reel spinning away below. Swiftly the DM started to ascend giving me the thumbs up. We were finally going up, and no rogering. Thank Christ. 5 mins and a safety stop later we were back on the boat.




Deep dive done.


As usual, wife-buddy and I had our own private de-brief about the deep dive on the journey home. As usual, we drew the same conclusion as each other; in this case that deep diving wasn't all it was cracked up to be and we wouldn’t be repeating it. The Titanic dive was going to have to be delayed until the next ice age when the sea level dropped accordingly, to around the 10m mark.

Since then, most of my dives are in the 20m range, and have recently been venturing past the 40m mark. I have only done this as I completed further training to dive deeper. It took me quite a few dives at the 20m mark before I was happy, and the same has proved true of the 45m dives. It’s all about building experience.

I prefer a little depth when diving, I’m in my element at 25m yet one of my favourite dive sites is only 8m deep. At the end of the day I only dive to a depth where I can see stuff.


Lessons learned

- Deep diving uses the same techniques as diving shallow.

- There is no need to dive deep just for the sake of it.

- Don’t dive outside your training.

- Make sure you know how to use smb’s, they’re useful for deep dives.

- Work your way down slowly and get used to diving deeper.

- Don’t bore your friends with diving stories.

- If Cressi’s are the only regs left in the box – sit out the dive*




*Cressi regulators are good regs, it's just that the ones at the school could have done with a service about a decade previous to my use!