Stories
| Scuba diving
Just started scuba diving. I'm so confused.
When I did my PADI Open Water Diver course, everything that could go wrong went wrong.
Somebody stole my fins on the first day. I lost my group and joined another under the water. I panicked when I tried to clear my mask. I lost my buddy (and myself) during the exam. Everything was pure frustration, but I wasn't going to give up! I loved the water and knew I was DESTINED to become a scuba diver. I told myself it was just a bad couple of days.
So when I started diving, I held a deep respect for the ocean and the fact that I'm breathing only because the equipment gives me air. I was terrified of the consequences that my (or my buddy's) ignorant decisions might yield.
Diving was hard. There were so many pieces of equipment, all of them crucial. You had to remember the sequence of a buddy check, to check the depth, air, and rate of ascension. You had to make sure to put on your weight belt before your BCD, and a regulator in your mouth before doing a back roll. There were sea currents, corals to avoid, reckless boat drivers, and odd fish going after you out of nowhere just because you were in the wrong place at the right time of the year.
So it comes as no surprise that I became a safety freak. Being a control freak as well didn’t help one bit. Everything had to be in the right place, everyone at the same depth, or I would blow a fuse later.
Then it was the problem of choosing a dive center when I went for holidays. How do I even judge that a dive center is good? Do I take them at their word? Where is the guarantee I am not just a number among many on their list today? In the vast sea of professional-looking websites, everyone is the best. How on earth can I make an informed decision about who to dive with when I still think there’s oxygen in my bottles and the no-decompression limit is a stone wall never to be crossed because there be dragons?
I started by choosing dive trips with limited amounts of divers. I went for smaller dive centers to make sure I'm their only point of focus and demanded to see their qualifications. I was prepared to pay more for their attention and my safety and refused to dive altogether if anything smelled fishy. Suspiciously low prices and many divers on a boat were huge red flags.
Then it was the problem of choosing a dive center when I went for holidays. How do I even judge that a dive center is good? Do I take them at their word? Where is the guarantee I am not just a number among many on their list today? In the vast sea of professional-looking websites, everyone is the best. How on earth can I make an informed decision about who to dive with when I still think there’s oxygen in my bottles and the no-decompression limit is a stone wall never to be crossed because there be dragons?
I started by choosing dive trips with limited amounts of divers. I went for smaller dive centers to make sure I'm their only point of focus and demanded to see their qualifications. I was prepared to pay more for their attention and my safety and refused to dive altogether if anything smelled fishy. Suspiciously low prices and many divers on a boat were huge red flags.
Slowly, year by year, dive by dive, my knowledge and experience grew, and I was confident I can separate the wheat from the chaff. I went from OWD to Advanced to Rescue (gosh, this one was fun!) to Divemaster, doing courses with the most demanding instructors who wanted perfection. You see, it’s not about the test or certification, it’s about the knowledge you take with you to the next dive. I knew they cared more about me becoming a competent diver than the extra money they would get by putting their attention to someone new that just turned up on their doorstep.
I still remember the moment when one day, I descended like it was nothing. It demanded just as much thought as descending on a comfy couch to watch TV. I feared nothing. My cumulative experience prepared me for the expected and the unexpected. I trusted my buddy, my dive guide, my gear, and most of all, myself.
Eventually, to the horror of my introverted nature, I bought a tiny dive center in Bali. Now I expect everybody in my team to treat our guests the way I had wanted to be treated as a mindful diver.
Occasionally, I still get stinky looks from old divers when I pull their fins during a dive because they wandered down to 31 meters when the briefing clearly said 29. I know I'm overreacting, but that’s how I am, and always will be, I guess. The safety freak lives on, but now it serves to protect others.
I still remember the moment when one day, I descended like it was nothing. It demanded just as much thought as descending on a comfy couch to watch TV. I feared nothing. My cumulative experience prepared me for the expected and the unexpected. I trusted my buddy, my dive guide, my gear, and most of all, myself.
Eventually, to the horror of my introverted nature, I bought a tiny dive center in Bali. Now I expect everybody in my team to treat our guests the way I had wanted to be treated as a mindful diver.
Occasionally, I still get stinky looks from old divers when I pull their fins during a dive because they wandered down to 31 meters when the briefing clearly said 29. I know I'm overreacting, but that’s how I am, and always will be, I guess. The safety freak lives on, but now it serves to protect others.