Friday, January 31st, 2003... I got in the car and headed over to Atlanta. I'll spare you the details of meeting Mr. Officer on the way up. He was cool enough to write me a warning for having expired plates, but the embarrassment was real. Have you seen the Georgia State Patrol's cars when the gumball lights are on? '70's discos would be envious. Sheesh.

I called ahead of time to Jim, the instructor/divemaster who arranged for GUE to send Andrew G. and Michael Kane (MHK on this board) to let him know that I was running a bit behind schedule. I felt terrible for showing up a half hour late, but hey... They didn't ride me too hard about it. I met MHK, Andrew and Jim, plus Jay, "lackey extraordinaire," Matt (a well-experienced cave diver who's heard all of the wonderful things that DIR offers), Claudia (the owner of a dive shop and a PADI instructor), and even Jim's wonderful son and wife. What a great bunch of people!

I was the youngest in the bunch, although most of us were within a decade of each other. I was severely less experienced than everyone else, but was easily the most excited, and so most of my fears were put to rest.

From 7:30pm until nearly midnight we basically had class... This involved a very in-depth discussion about DIR, the "Fundementals," and some basic overviews on gear configuration. We discussed the shortcomings of the current dive industry as a whole, and how GUE was working to correct that. We discussed technique, body positioning, and diving styles. We even got the opportunity to do a few "dry run" drills of some of the techniques that we'd be doing over the weekend.

In all, I was very "pumped" by the end of the class. Andrew and MHK were amazingly patient with me. I sat there and drilled them with question after question not only about DIR, but about diving in general. These guys had a very thorough understanding of the physiology of diving, and as such I was able to get answers to questions that I've always had... But never been able to find the answers to.

We watched a Power Point presentation, complete with lots of video (some of which I have online at http://www.DeepSouthDivers.org), that taught technique and answered questions that I had. Their knowlege put my head into a tailspin... I almost couldn't sleep that night, thinking of all of the things I'd learned!

Let me see if I can give you a few real "gems" of the knowlege that was shared that night...

* DIR teaches no reliance on dive computers. While this was a particular concern of mine, they instead teach a way to keep a running and accurate tally of your nitrogen loading right in your head. It's easy and totally dependable. I was floored.

* These guys showed me ways of using gear that I had never even thought of before... And in such a fashion as to have everything come "second nature" at any given point. Did you know that the rear dump is supposed to be on the left side of your wing? That's so that any buoyancy issue that you have can be taken care of with your left hand... No matter which dump you use, or if you are needing to inflate some.

*A variety of new kick styles were added to my "toolbox." I now had new kicks to use for specialized situations. Did you know that people swim faster using a frog kick than with your standard, "kick from the hip" flutter? It's less tiring, too. Now why didn't I know about this before? This could have saved me many, many PSI...

* Almost all of us were taught to dive "on our knees." Think about it... The first time you did an OOA drill with your instructor, weren't you on your knees? Do you realize how this affects the rest of your diving, permanently?

* DIR teaches "practice." It seems silly, but do you know when the last time it was that you practiced an out of air emergency? Why would you believe that you can do it perfectly if you don't ever practice it? Doesn't this seem basic?

*Do you know why DIR divers dive a 7' hose? Do you know who exits first from the overhead... The person with the OOA emergency, or the donor? The answer would probably surprise you as it did me.

* Most of all, I was encouraged to ask "why." I was encouraged to argue and ask, and to converse and work out my issues and misunderstandings, largely due to misinformation that I'd read here on this and many other boards.

* Another thing that struck me about this class was that these guys were fun! They were just having a blast, and so was I.

What a great class. It's not possible to tell you about all of the little "gems" that I picked up through the evening. Heck, man... Just finding out how to do the running nitrogen level in your mind was worth the price of admission.

That night, I laid my head on my pillow and tried to stop thinking about the formula which they'd given me on how to predict my buoyancy by knowing just a few bits of information. In my head I kept running through scenarios and gear configurations like dry suits, wet suits, steel and aluminum backplates, weight belts, doubles vs. singles... The whole thing. I could now accurately predict how much weight I'd need in specific situations, and how much should be ditchable or nonditchable. I mean, it was just extraordinary how much I learned that night.

And still I didn't catch it all. I'm going to have to take another DIR-F class again.

By far, this one night of classroom instruction was the most information-packed class I've ever taken. Very impressive!

I went to sleep that night wondering how this additional knowlege was going to improve my dive skills. I was very much looking forward to getting in the water with everyone the next day and getting even better than I already was. I couldn't wait to "show off" my new skills. Saturday morning was going to be like Friday night, only with DIVING...

Saturday morning, my watch quietly beeped that it was 6:00, and time to get up. I told Jay, my roomate ("Lackey Extraordinaire") that I would get up first, since I am typically so slow to wake.

After getting ready, and with my mind still abuzz with configurations, skills, understandings, and the like, we headed over to Waffle House to grab some b-fast. We sat in the smoking section for two reasons; so we could keep an eye out for the rest of the group, who was planning on meeting us in the parking lot, and so that I could enjoy a good ol' morning smoke. Those of you who smoke know what I mean about this. I hadn't had one since yesterday afternoon.

"Mind if I smoke?"

"Uh, yeah, I really do."

Hm. That's okay, I expected that anyway. He apologized, but I completely understood... No biggie, I'd wait 'til we were done so I could get one outside.

My order: Bacon, eggs, coffee, OJ, hash browns, big ol' glass of milk. I was diving today, and wanted to make sure that I was going to be plenty nourished.

His order: Waffle, jam, water.

Hm.

We met everyone in the parking lot afterwards, but there were still some people missing; namely, MHK, Jim, and Andrew. This was a perfect time to light up... Maybe I could even get it in before these guys showed up.
You know the story... I light, they show, and we take off. I never smoke in my car (I don't like the smell of stale smoke; isn't that ironic?), but that day I did. Last thing I wanted to be thinking about while doing these skills was jonesin' for a smoke.

...So there I was, following a line of cars to go diving, somewhere in Alabama, puffing on a cigar, listening very closely to the radio. It said, "Ladies and Gentlemen, our preliminary reports say that the smoke and explosion over Eastern Texas was likely the Space Shuttle Columbia, which was due to land here a half an hour ago. There is not much hope of survival for the astronauts."

Hm.

As an aquanaut, I felt a strong connection to the astronauts. From their outer space to my inner space, I felt my heart touched by the death of these explorers. I felt for the wives, husbands, and children, too. Equipment failure is a terrible thing... And the reason why I was here. My heart went out to all whose lives were touched by this tragedy. I held a "moment of silence" in my car for more than an hour, listening and feeling.

When we arrived at the quarry, nobody else had been listening to the radio. I had to break the news to them myself.

But we had diving to do... So we went to check out the water. In my "open water = open ocean" mentality, this was merely a hole in the ground with water in it, but hey, it was clean and clear, and there apparently were some cool things at the bottom of the quarry... A boat, a bus, a whole slew of cars and such. There were rumors of huge catfish. Cool.

...But we spent the next four hours doing "dry run" skills. While this was hardly my favorite part of the whole weekend, there is no question as to how invaluable these skills are underwater. We started by looking at some gear, and their pros and cons. I was going to be the only diver today diving a single rig (everyone else was diving double tanks), and only MHK and I were diving wet. Everyone else was in a drysuit. I have to admit, I was a bit jealous of the dry guys... That water was about 50 degrees! I had brought my wetsuit (3/2 mil O'Neill), which has served me well in the local subtropical waters, which rarely go below 65. It's also been really nice to have in the Florida springs, where the water's always 72 and my no-deco diving is more of a hinderance than water temperature.

So I rented a wetsuit. They only had 5 mil. It was looking like I might end up getting pretty chilled, but I had a hood and gloves with me, so maybe it wouldn't be too bad. Little did I know that this would be a problem for me later... But not because I would get cold.

We learned several kick styles, and these guys just supplied "new tool" after "new tool" for my "toolbox" of dive skills. We learned the proper way to frog kick, mod frog kick, backwards kick, mod flutter, and all the rest. We learned the correct position underwater, which involved, at least on land, a tremendous amount of lower back strength. In the water it proved much easier, and quite comfortable... When we were able to get it right. This is going to take some practice.

After being properly fit for gear (I was wearing a borrowed, plastic bp/wing combo with no crotch strap... Not the best, but hey, I thought it would do...), we headed into the water. Maaaaan, was that c-c-c-c-cold. I wasn't sure how to compensate for the additional thickness of the wetsuit, so I took a weight belt down with me with lots of weight... I'd simply remove weight until I was properly weighted.

Well, in fresh water (like this) I normally take between 6 and 8 pounds, depending on the brand name of the tanks, salinity of the water, different pieces of gear that I have, etc. I headed down with 16 pounds (!), and figured that I'd take weight off as I needed.

I knew right away that I'd have a problem the moment that I deflated my wing completely and still bobbed like a cork. Having dealt with this situation before, and not wanting to miss the class, I headed down anyway, knowing that I was going to be light and floaty the whole time, but that once that 5 mil of suit compressed, I probably wouldn't be too bad off.

My buddy and I immediately settled into the correct "prone" position, like we were taught. I was pleasantly surprised to find that it wasn't that far off from what I'd been doing anyway. I did have one problem, though... I had placed my tank a little high, and was whacking myself in the back of the head with the valve. Ouch. Having to keep my head cocked to one side or down a little was throwing my position out a bit.

I wasn't down there but for about thirty seconds (around 20') when I got a bit out of trim and was quickly upside-down and floating to the surface. I knew the problem... Not enough weight... And so I hardly resisted. I signalled to MHK that I'd be back in a second, but he came up to check on me anyway.

"You looked great there for a few seconds... What happened?"

Pretty embarrassed because of the silly-looking fin-first float, I said, "I didn't get enough weight to compensate for this thicker suit... I'll be right back."
I adjusted the belt from 16 to a whopping 20 pounds... It was a pain just trying to keep the thing on with all of that weight in there.

Ah, well... No matter. Back in the water. I'm sinking. Cool. Now maybe I won't look so goofy...

Okay... Down. Signal to MHK. Do a frog around a bit (hey, this works great! I thought I had been doing the frog correctly before...) and then start to practice an OOA. *Pop.* I'm at the surface. What the heck?

Okay, down again. Good thing we were only in 20 feet of water. Do an OOA drill (what they call an "S drill.") My buddy and I approach each other... I am out of air... She hands me her reg, and we conk heads, stand up vertically, and while we're trying to get our reg situation correct, we bob to the surface. How embarrassing.

I couldn't do anything that they asked me to... And it's not like they asked me to do anything extraordinary... Simply show trim... Buoyancy... Do an "out of air." It was horrible. I was horrible.

I swear, I've never dived so badly in my whole life. And when I looked over after having all of these problems and saw Jay, our friendly neighborhood cameraman, filming my flailing limbs... Well, I just about lost it.

"Okay, stop," I thought. "Good. Now... Prone position. Good. Hey, howcome I'm bobbing at the surface AGAIN?" Just like that, I'd nailed my coffin shut like sixteen times in sixteen minutes. I was terrible.

That last time I popped to the surface, I didn't go back down. I had tried all of the obvious things... Dumping air, adding weight... Body position... But I just wasn't finding the right combination of things. I mean, I could see very clearly that I was seriously an accident waiting to happen.

And here's the part that really got my blood boiling... I'm a Rescue Diver. I'm supposed to be able to save people. Supposed to be able to drop from a helicopter into raging seas and save damsels in distress, right? I mean, it was bad. And I was really embarrassed. I was completely out of control.
My mind raced with thoughts of giving up and changing my name... Moving back to the desert where I belonged, away from water, which apparently was my enemy. I wondered how it had been that I hadn't killed myself yet, and then it dawned on me...

Must be the gear.

I can't be that terrible. I've never had these problems before...

While there may be some truth to the fact that I'd never dived this rig before, and that I was having some serious weighting issues... And while there might have been some truth to the fact that 5 mil was about twice what I was accustomed to, and that in only 20 feet of water, it was definitely working against me in the buoyancy-stability department... The problem wasn't the suit or the weight or the rig... The problem was that I couldn't handle it.

I made it to shallow water and took my rig off. Around the time that I was getting it clear of my shoulders, I heard a "ppppffffffttttt..."

Wait a minute. Something's leaking. Ohmygosh. So that's it. Something's leaking. Well, that would explain why I do fine and then all of a sudden I blow to the surface. Maybe the inflator valve is leaking into the bladder.

That's when MHK popped up. He could see in my face that I was really upset. I've never been so embarrassed in my whole life, and I started to think back about the things I could have said here on the board or in person, where I argued a point or talked to someone as if I had a clue about diving. My performance showed that clearly, I had no business anywhere near the water, much less giving advice on it.

"Goddam thing's leaking!" I said, angrily. "Shoots me up to the surface here and there... Listen."

He listened... "Yeah, I hear that, but it's leaking slightly OUT, not IN..."
I was so ticked, I couldn't even see straight. If he was right, then I really just sucked as a diver. And with my skills, training, and the hundred or so dives that I've done, if I am THAT bad, I need to get out of the water. Permenantly.

My tank had never been so light. It came off of me, and I think I actually threw it, from shallow water, onto the dock. It sailed nicely. Okay, that's an exaggeration... But the point is that I was at that point where the adrenaline was going, I was really mad, and 40 pounds of gear felt like 5. You know that point.

I was steamed. Big time. Angry at the gear, angry at the situation. Angry that I'd been sucked into paying this kind of money for some stupid cult class. Angry at me, angry at my buddy, and angry at MHK. Angry at the bird in the tree. Angry at God. Angry at the stupid little fishie that had followed me around, looking for food. Certainly this was his fault. If HE hadn't been BUMMIN' FOR FOOD, then maybe I'd have been able to concentrate!

I'm not a stupid guy. I knew I wasn't handling this well. I needed to take a time-out before I really embarrassed myself.

"You okay?" MHK asked.

"No! Stupid diving. Maybe I just need to get the hell out of the water for good. I swear, Mike, I'm not this bad."

"I've seen worse."

"What?! Worse?!! I wanted you to come up and say, 'Hey, you're not far from being really good...' I can't believe this. Mike, I swear, I'm a really great diver. I live for this stuff, man. It's gotta be the gear..."

"You need a few minutes to cool off?"

"Yes I do, Goddammit!"

...And so I walked over to the edge of the dock, crossed my arms, and stared into the water for 45 minutes. I don't know what was more embarrassing... My lack of skill ("must be the equipment") or the fact that I was pouting like this. But maaaaan, was I ticked. I had to do this just so I wouldn't throw a tantrum.

After cooling off a bit, I grabbed my gear and headed back up with the rest of the group, who was discussing technique and such. All of the students had this look on their faces like they'd been totally defeated. Nobody thought they did well... And these were dive shop owners, university instructors, and well-educated cave divers. I found a little solace in that, but it wasn't much.

MHK was very cool about all of it. "Okay now?"

"Yes, but I'm sure there really is something wrong with this rig. It's leaking IN, not OUT."

So we deflated the bladder completely and let it sit for 15 minutes. It did not inflate on it's own.

"See?" He said.

"Then YOU dive it. YOU check it out... I am SURE there's something wrong with it. I am diving with a jacket next time, like I was taught in my Open Water classes. This backplate crap is for the birds."

Ten minutes later, I was watching him maintain perfect balance, control, trim and buoyancy with my "stupid rig." Meanwhile, I floated like a cork, in a perfectly vertical position, with a rented jacket-style BC hanging around my ears. He looked up and me and shrugged. I could see him thinking, "Nothing wrong with this rig..."

Sheesh. So that meant that I really did suck as bad as I thought. I've never been so embarrassed in my life.

"It's not your fault," MHK said. "You're beating yourself up too much over this. You were never taught any of this stuff in PADI class. This is all completely new to you."

Well, that helped a bit, but I felt like I'd been hit with a sledgehammer in the gut. I thought I was pretty good in the realm of diving. Remember, I'm the one at the top of my "gene pool" in my local dive club. I'm the one that's always got to help, because I have my stuff together, but they don't. I'm the one frustrated at everyone else because of their lack of skill. I'm the Rescue Diver. I'm the President of the freakin' USCB Scuba Club. I'm the one doing the Guiness World Record in just a few months.

Later, while I was putting my stuff together, each person in the class came over to see if I was okay. It was no secret that I was so appalled. Yeah, I knew the class would be hard, but I feel like I lost something... Like I was the big fish in the little pond before, and very happy that way... Now, being around these guys, I was the little fish in the big pond. I'd "graduated" to a new level of skill sets... DIR... The problem was that I sucked at them.

It was very cool to see people coming over to me like that. Everyone was genuinely concerned... And they all said what they could to make me feel better. It was true that I wasn't nearly as bad off as I was thinking I was... But it didn't help my shock too much. Finally, Claudia, my dive buddy, came over to talk.

"You thinking about quitting?"

"Yes," I said, without looking up.

"Don't quit."

Having someone tell me not to quit really infuriated me. I don't quit. I'm not a quitter. And if she was telling me not to quit, then that meant that I was quitting.

That's when I hit my turning point. I said, "I didn't say I was going to quit, I said I was thinking about quitting. I don't quit. I'm not a quitter. I just said I was thinking about it, that's all. I ain't gonna quit." The truth is that I wasn't telling her that - I was telling ME that.

Thanks, Claudia.

Later, we ended up heading back to our rooms and getting dry. Then we shot over to MHK's and Andrew's room and watched the horrific video. Believe it or not, I had a couple of "dead on" moments where I looked great... Sure, there were other not-so-great moments, too... But the truth is that I didn't look nearly as bad as I thought I did. Maybe I just felt really bad. Maybe it was all of that pressure I'd put on myself. I can't say that I was pleased with my performance, but it wasn't as bad as I'd thought, and truly, not bad at all for a guy who's as new to this as I am.

We diagnosed every person's good skills and bad... And believe me, there were many more of the latter for everyone. MHK and Andrew did nothing but help... It was US that were so critical of ourselves. We all might have laughed and joked about it, but for the most part, it was US that were critical, with MHK and Andrew just doing what they do to help us improve.
Then we went out to dinner. My sourpuss look had begun to wane a little, and Andrew cracked a joke that was so funny that I just couldn't resist laughing. At that point MHK even said, "Hey, look... SeaJay's coming back."
Thanks, Mike. Seriously. From one yankee to another, I appreciate the caring and concern that you show. I'm gonna practice until one day you look at me and say, "Man, you're good." At least, I'm going to practice until I say that about myself. (Again.)

Dinner was an interesting experience, too... When the waitress came around to me, I told her that I wanted the "16 ounce triple cheese burger... With bacon." Andrew just about fainted. He was sitting across the table from me.
Half because I was feeling cocky, and half because I was still mad at myself for the whole day's activities, I looked at her and said, "Do you cook your fries in animal lard? 'Cause if you do, I'd like an extra helping of lard fries, please. And some milk to drink. Good ol' wholesome milk from a cow. Yes, that would be great. Mmmmmmm..."

Andrew just shook his head. Poor guy. He poked back, though, imitating me... "Uh, yes, I'll have the ass of a cow, ground up and burned, with the shoulder of a pig draped over it... And while you're in there, put some fungus on that as well... No, wait... THREE kinds of fungus..."

Sunday morning came even earlier than before, although my watch told me that it was later. I'd stayed up most of the night in a feeble attempt to do some gear modification.

This time the whole group of us met over at yet another Waffle House. There was lots of conversation, but I don't remember much of it. Andrew was chowin' on a big plate of hash browns. I asked him if he ate eggs. "Hey, if you want to eat a chicken's period, go for it," was his reply. Normally, I'd have laughed and teased him back; but the previous day's performance weighed heavily on my mind, and I didn't see that today was going to be much different. I had to change my attitude, or I was going to be done for. Too bad I was too beat up to care.

We caravaned over to the dive site, this time just a few miles up the road. I stole another smoke on the way up, and tried to talk some sense into myself. "Cut it out, man. This is your thing. You'll be fine." Yeah, nothing like looking in the rear view mirror and seeing you talking to yourself. Major doubt really begins to set in when you realize that you're talking to yourself.

When I got out of the car and realized that I'd 'bout froze yesterday when we were diving in the late afternoon - and today we'd be diving in the chilly morning - my heart sank. Then I realized that I was dreading diving. I think about diving all the time. I love this sport. What was wrong with me that I was dreading diving? It was just all wrong.

More as an act of desperation than anything else, I decided that today I'd take a different approach. I was really trying to be good at these new skills, and sacrificing any skill I had already learned for those. No way, man - today, I was going to focus on diving... On staying down there and on not worrying about the fact that I was being watched. Yes, I was concerned about form. Yes, I was concerned about doing it right. Yes, I wanted to learn. But in the face of such a disaster yesterday, it was time to return to the basics. (Isn't that what I was doing anyway?)

Let's dive. A smile came over my face.

We briefed on what the day's dives had in store for us. There were more dry runs, and we were shown the proper way to shoot a lift bag. Very cool indeed! I wanted to do that, and I will at some point. But this day MHK made it clear that we still needed to work on bouyancy and our out of air drills. We were also going to demonstrate a "valve drill" today, where we would perform a complete valve shut-off and turn-on while maintaining bouyancy. "I can do this," I thought. Images of the previous day flashed before me.

This day I considered going back to my 3/2 mil O'Neill. MHK had had 3/2 on yesterday, and now was opting for a 7 mil. This northern-bred Long Islander had gotten cold yesterday. I couldn't imagine having yet another issue underwater, so I once again chose to rent a 5 mil.

After donning the suit, I asked the shop owner to point me to the showers. I was going to fill my suit with hot water this time. I filled my suit instead with water he'd put out specifically for this purpose - hot water in a cooler, with a large thermal coffee mug for dipping. Pouring it into my suit felt terrific. Entry into the quarry's chilled waters was much more bearable this time.

Underwater, I once again resumed perfect trim and buoyancy, again for about thirty seconds. When the sickening feeling of "corking" came up on me at that time, I broke all the rules and swam like hell back into position. I dumped a good bit of air out of my BC, too. I grabbed the railing of the underwater platform, muscled my way back into position, and then focused on the prone position. I wanted to tell MHK that I was sorry for leaving the position. I wanted to tell him that I was sorry I was such a lost cause. I wanted to tell him that I really could dive. But you know what? I hadn't "corked." I hadn't lost it. I got out of position, but at least I was still where I was supposed to be. It wasn't graceful, but I wasn't repeating yesterday.
MHK wasn't my biggest problem. I was. I wasn't pleased with this performance either, but the fact that I did not give up - and had done what it took to stay down - told my self-doubt, "Shut up and sit down; I can do this." Doing It Wrong wasn't the right way, but it beat not doing it at all.

"I'll get this right yet," I thought.

I dumped a bit more air from my wing.

Our first step was to demonstrate an out of air drill. Like yesterday, I'd pretend to be out of air, and we'd rush to each other and demonstrate the correct deployment of the long hose. I signalled, and we rushed each other. This time my hands went right on her shoulders, and I pushed off of her so we wouldn't clunk heads. Again, not pretty, but effective. I'd decided to leave "pretty" until later.

We did much better this time... Although I went completely vertical during the drill, and she came after me, knowing that she was my air supply. She did everything right, I think... Again, not pretty, but right this time. It was a good starting point. Now if I could just control my buoyancy...

We were rounded up again, and this time MHK was going to pretend to be out of air. He was going to rely on me to save his life.

Sheesh.

Before I could argue, he signalled out of air. I didn't want to be the one to tell Andrew that I'd drowned our faithful instructor, so I rushed in and handed him the regulator that surely worked... The one in my mouth. I pushed off of his shoulder (again, not pretty, but effective) and began to unclip my SPG as the drill says.

"Oh yeah... Don't forget to switch to backup," I thought...

"(Oh man, that's the wrong step... You've already BLOWN IT! You're a complete MORON!)"

"Shut up," I said to The Voice, and I began to breathe off of my backup. Around that time I unhooked the long hose from around my neck. I was doing everything in the wrong order!

"(Noooooooo!)"

"Okay." (Two tugs to ensure that the hose is clear.) "Okay, SPG. Looks good." (Show him.) "Looks good." (Clip it off again.)

"(Hey, that was easier than before.)"

"MHK, here's the extra hose." (He'd already cleaned himself up.) "Okay?" (Okay.) "Gimme your arm... No, wait... We're going over to the upline. I'm leading." He signals back. "Gimme your arm." (Tug-tug.) We swim.

"(Hey... Guess what... You're exactly where you started in the water column!)"

I had not "corked." I couldn't believe it! I think I failed at "pretty," but I'd done it. I did it. I did it! I could do this!

MHK motioned that it was time for us to do our valve drills. I watched Claudia do hers with an Olympic effort. It took her maybe ten full minutes to do the thirty second drill. She never gave up, though, and I felt proud to know someone who was so willing to put forth so much effort. She did it, too. Took forever, but she did it. She was successful. I could see the disappointment in her eyes; it was obvious she felt like a hopeless case, but I didn't see that at all. I admired the fact that she did every step, as painful as it was for her to do. I saw before me a small woman with mighty courage. I almost quit yesterday. She was my hero.

I have to tell y'all about MHK and his commitment to his students. There's been ugly rumors before on the 'net about GUE instructors "turning off" valves and such on students, just to test them to see what they'd do. They've been criticized in the past for this action, and told that the practice was unsafe. Let me be perfectly clear on this: The rumor that any GUE instructor has ever turned off a student's valve is complete hogwash. Instead, let me tell you the truth about what I saw: MHK hovered perfectly over Claudia, his fingers just inches from her valves, ready to supply her air the moment she gave up. She was diving doubles, and so had a series of three separate valves to go through. She'd turn one off first, and then turn it back on. Then she'd do the second... Off, then on again. Then the last. She was never without air supply, and even if she had been, MHK was never more than a tenth of a second from gettin' those valves back on. His complete awareness - and his perfect trim - were nothing less that applaudable. Never believe anyone that tells you that GUE instructors place their students in danger. This man's focus... His passion... His reason for being... Was to ensure diver safety. I was so impressed.

When Claudia finished, I applauded. Her tired eyes looked at me with a glimmer of accomplishment, and I could see that she was smiling under all of that gear.

MHK motioned for me to situate myself near a corner of the underwater platform to perform my drill. I felt almost like I was cheating, since I only had one valve on my single AL80. I muscled my way into position, and got trimmed. I was a little floaty, but not too bad. Later I found out that at some point, MHK had dumped about five pounds of air out of my BC without me even knowing it. This was clearly a skill I had not yet mastered.

Just before telling me to commence the drill, I clapped my hands together, rubbed them together, and shook my fists. I stretched my shoulders and neck. Later in the video of ourselves (I wasn't even aware that there was a camera down there with us this time) it was very obvious that I'd done a little "psyche-up" for myself. I wasn't kidding around. When I saw that in the video, I was very proud of myself. Most of the class thought it was mildly amusing, but I beamed with the fact that I had not given up.

My gear configuration was exactly the same as yesterday. I'd said to MHK and Andrew that I wanted to make some changes, but when I was unable to, I took an interesting attitude about it. "Well, if I don't change anything and I do better today, then I'll see that my skills have improved... In one day. I'd like nothing more than to kick this in the ass."

My trim was good. I was balanced. Luckily, because of yesterday's head/valve incident, I'd taken much better care to place the tank correctly. Now, I was going to reap the benefits. I reached back... But could not find my valve. MHK disappeared over my shoulder, ensuring my safety.
I bent my knees... Looked down at the ground... And that gave my body some tilt. I reached back further and felt the valve with my fingertips. I wasn't kidding around any more. I grabbed that valve and pulled it forward over my head with the same intensity that I'd thrown that tank yesterday. The palm of my hand fell perfectly on my valve, and I rolled it off like a pro. Without removing my hand, I breathed down the reg and turned the valve back on. Perfect. And I didn't lose bouyancy. Take that, self-doubt! A thousand fans cheered in my mind. I was a Roman Gladiator who'd just fallen the enemy. Roses were being thrown to me from hundreds of beautiful women in the stands. I don't think that anyone else was as impressed with my drill as I was. They'd seen it done much better before. But that didn't matter to me. I'd shut up my biggest critic.

Emotionally exhausted, we made our way out of the water and into the dive shop's classroom, where we watched a review of what we'd done. "Much better than yesterday," the students agreed. "We still have a lot to work on, and none of us feel like we're competent yet, but we've got some understanding and a lot of practice to do." We were all in agreement... But I don't think I could express how much the tiny little victory had meant to me. I had more now than ever that I needed to work on, but I'd proven to myself that I could do it if I was determined enough. Practice will make perfect. I believe that. It's what Andrew and MHK believe, too.

I made sure I was the last to leave the quarry. MHK and Andrew had a plane to catch, and Jim was responsible for getting them there. Goodbyes were very quick, and Jim, I am sorry if I was rude to you in the dive shop. I had a lot of "stuff" going on in there, if you know what I mean. In all, though, we said very brief goodbyes and they were all on their way.

And now I was left to be alone with the water in an almost spiritual kind of way. I like that a lot sometimes.

I lit up a smoke, as DIR teaches you not to do. I'd been wanting to do this for a while now. Man, I gotta give these things up. Then I headed into the dive shop and asked for another tank and a jacket BC. I was going to remind myself why it is that I do this to myself.

Against every policy in the book, and against any sort of reason at all, I went for a solo dive. I'd purposely stayed as the last remaining diver so that I could do this. Lecture me now, I don't care.

I made my way along the surface with a jacket BC, console, and a short hose. When I got to the buoy for the sunken sailboat (with sails still up) I deflated my BC and felt the chilly waters once again embrace my body. I wondered if I was coming back.

In 70 feet of water, I turned my very non-DIR PCa Ikelight on and shined it on the hull of the boat. I checked depth, air, and buoyancy. How do people function with these things? How did I?

I made a short, hovering swim over the hull of the boat. Yeah, this is what I love... The almighty shipwreck. My mind contemplated what an emergency swimming ascent would be like from 70 feet. This is a really stupid way to dive.

I fully circled the boat, and remained five feet or more off of the bottom the whole time. I used a standard from-the-hip flutter kick, like we're taught in PADI I, and was disappointed (and not surprised) to see that even at five feet, a flutter kick with my big Mares Quattros silted up everything terribly.
I found a line heading away from the boat, and took it. I hovered a foot off of the line, following it strictly with my eyes. My buoyancy had never been so good. My breathing was slow, controlled, and deliberate.

A few yards away, I found an overturned schoolbus. All of the windows and doors had been removed from it, so I did a quick swim-through. Being in that bus in 70 feet of water... Very alone... Made some pretty eerie feelings run through me. As I passed the doomed driver's seat, I touched the steering wheel and gearshift. The hair on the back of my neck stood up when I thought about the fact that this bus may not have been put there on purpose. Creepy.

Just eight minutes into my dive, I was feeling like it was time to leave. Diving non-DIR was never going to feel the same again. I made my way back to the boat and found another line leading back to the docks. I followed and had the treat of seeing several wrecked cars, boats, and diver obstacle courses along the way. Pretty neat stuff, really. I missed getting to share it with someone.

I spent a minute at 30 feet, just for safekeeping. The cummerbund on the jacket was preventing me from taking a really good, deep breath. At 20, I spent another minute, this time stopping to see if I could maintain trim and buoyancy in a jacket. Trim was completely out, and I was either vertical or "turtled" on my back. I can't understand what I ever saw in these things. Ten feet, a minute, and then the sun hit my face.

At the surface, I had a tired but appropriate smile on my face. The dive shop owner asked me, "How was the dive?"

"Well, I survived," I said. I meant it in many more ways than he understood.
The dive was a great reminder... And a very timely one... To myself on why I dive. I'm really glad I did it.

...But that's the last time I dive like that.