Open Mind, Open Water Course (Lesson One)

Trepidation for my impending scuba lesson grew over the course of my shift and as the end of my working day approached I found myself hoping for a late 999 call. I'm such a coward – I was almost willing someone to be ill so I would finish work too late to attend the lesson. However, I only managed to delay my shift-end for half-an-hour, which meant I made it to the Fin Divers HQ in Stevenage just in the nick of time.

Learning Not to Drown

On arrival, I made my half-baked apologies and hurried past the racks of diving equipment into the classroom where they were about to begin. Matt Bacon, our dive instructor, handed me a registration form to fill out and continued to address the other diving rookies. After reading through the medical questionnaire, I couldn't help thinking of it as a list of things that could lead to my underwater demise. Fortunately, the only thing that gave me pause was a question about pre-existing back problems. But I have consulted my GP and physiotherapist and they think that with care, SCUBA diving might actually help my condition. Severe allergies were also mentioned, but I answered 'no' because mild hayfever surely wouldn't be a problem underwater, would it?

After a short introduction we settled in to watch a PADI (Professional Association of Diving Instructors) training video featuring some tanned, hard-bodied divers and some mildly cringe-worthy attempts at humour. I suppose these were necessary distractions from the otherwise relentless referencing of equipment, procedures and scientific principles. I got the gist, but I was hoping there wouldn't be an exam at the end; I was never going to be able to tell my buoyancy control devices from my curvacous bikini-clad diving actresses after one viewing.

The content of the video described the basic scientific principles of diving and the fundamentals of diving safety. I was grateful for this but at the same time I couldn't help but notice that the necessity of these safety points underlined the reality that human beings aren't designed to be underwater. Worryingly, congestion and allergies were highlighted as a concern, so my earlier assumption about my hayfever seems to be wrong - I'll have to bear that in mind. Although sugar-coated with repeated references to how fun diving is, the unspoken subtext was "look after your kit and learn how to use it because if you don't, YOU WILL DIE!". I wasn't reassured by the actors' attempts to dance underwater, I was just concerned one of them might get tangled up in the myriad of tubes strapped to their back and meet a grisly end.

During our lesson, the main shop area of the Fin Divers office had filled with people, presumably the more experienced divers that would be attending the pool session. Sadly, I didn't have a chance to chat to them, with our lesson over we needed to relocate to the nearby municipal swimming pool for our first "confined water" session so I had to dash home to grab my swimming gear.

All the Gear...No Idea

Surprisingly, despite my detour, I got to Stevenage swimming pool shortly before most of the Fin Divers entourage. The reason for their delay soon became clear as they arrived and began to haul a multitude of equipment boxes and gas cylinders inside. It seems that SCUBA divers don't travel light.

Once all the kit was indoors, I was instructed to go get changed into my swimming gear whilst the divers made their pool-side preparations. Having previously snorkelled, I had my own mask, snorkel and body glove rash-vest. However, in my rush to grab everything together, I had made two critical omissions; I'd forgotten the rash-vest and my contact lenses – I was going to have to dive partially-blind and semi-naked!

Arriving back poolside, I watched the twenty-strong group of wetsuit-clad divers assembling and checking their equipment. I tried not to be disappointed by the lack of sun-kissed athletic bikini-wearers and accepted that many divers appear to be shaven-headed girthsome men. At least I wouldn't have to worry so much about sucking my stomach in all evening.

I gravitated toward my fellow rookies; a young man called Darren and a younger teenage girl named Chloe. I couldn't help wondering if I was too old for this? We were issued with fins (with express instructions not to refer to them as 'flippers' – apparently a hanging offence in diving circles), BCDs and air cylinders which we were shown how to assemble, although thankfully our instructor and a fellow 'DM' (dive master) did ours for us. I certainly wouldn't have been comfortable trusting any breathing equipment assembled by myself.

After some further instruction, it became clear that we would be re-enacting the same drills that we'd seen in the video earlier. I hoped I wouldn't be asked to dance underwater. One thing that was certainly going to be a challenge was underwater communication; our instructor showed us some basic hand-signals that would be critical to continuing our lessons whilst submerged. I've always been pretty good at Charades, but some of the signals are going to take some getting used to. A “thumbs-up” sign means “ascend”, not as I would interpret it; “okay, isn't this fun?”.

Tiny Leaps of Faith

Into the water we slid and we were shown how to don and secure our equipment. Whilst quite heavy on land, the bulky flak-vest-like BCD and cylinder felt much less cumbersome in the water and once we were shown how to fill it with air, it was like wearing an inflatable dinghy. At this point I was very happy, I couldn't drown even if someone had their foot on my head.

Following instruction on using the regulator (the mouthpiece at the end of the airline), the inevitable moment of submergence came. Thankfully we were in the shallow end of the pool so the surface wouldn't be that far away. I let the air out of my BCD and sank quickly to my knees, attempting to equalise the air in my ears as instructed. It was a strange moment; my eyes and my body were telling me I was underwater, but my lungs disagreed. I found myself at the bottom of the pool, relatively relaxed and looking around at the small circle of equipment-smothered divers. Beyond were other similar groups of submerged figures, all practicing various diving procedures. It was surprisingly crowded down there.

Happy that none of us were thrashing around and panicking, our instructor gave us each an “okay” signal to which we were expected to respond in kind. It occurred to me that there is a distinct lack of punctuation in underwater communications and there should probably be a way of distinguishing between a question and a statement. He then gave us a “thumbs-up”. Yes this is fun isn't it... Oh hang on, that means we go up.

For me, the next part of our lesson contained a slight hint of terror. Now comfortable with the idea of being able to breathe underwater, he expected us to remove our breathing apparatus, allow it to fill with water and then purge it and put it back in our mouths. A quick practice on the surface did little to quell my concerns; if I did this wrong, I would be willingly inhaling water. Nonetheless, with my fellow students being a testosterone-filled youth and a child, I had to 'man-up' and give it a go. I resigned myself to death by drowning rather than an embarrassing loss of face.

We re-submerged and Chloe went first, fearlessly and quickly performing the necessary task. The instructor turned to me, mimed the actions and cued me up. Time for a leap of faith. I removed the regulator, placed my tongue at the front of my mouth as expected and replaced the regulator, purging it as I did so. It worked. I didn't inadvertently fill my lungs with water, hurrah! My next attempt didn't go quite so well though, the second technique involved blowing the water out of the regulator manually. However, I over-thought things and for some reason breathed out before removing the mouthpiece. On replacing it I found I had very little puff and had to strain to clear it. I managed, but hardly with grace. It was difficult to tell through his mask and regulator, but I'm sure my instructor laughed as he swam away to focus on the next student.

The final few minutes of my first dive went reasonably well, with a few issues. We had a brief exercise in recovering your breathing tube in the event that it floats off behind you, then a short swim around. Darren had some issues with his club-issue mask due to the fact he had an unusually narrow and angular face and my left ear refused to equalise when we went into the deep end, causing some mild pain. Chloe seemed effortless and at ease throughout - oh to be young and fearless. One other problem I encountered was that I seemed hyper-buoyant, bouncing from surface to floor with every breath, but perhaps that is something I will master with time.

All in all, it was not an entirely unpleasant experience and most importantly; I live to swim another day. Now to hit the books, there are things I want to know.

An Introduction

I am a 36-year-old Paramedic who has been quite comfortable on dry land for my entire life. Although I can swim, it is not my favourite past-time and just looking at a body of deep water fills me with dread (even the background to this blog makes me feel slightly uncomfortable). 

Perhaps somewhere deep in my subconscious is the memory of an incident that my Mother has previously recounted to me when, at the age of three, I threw myself into a water-filled quarry and sank, requiring her to dive in to save me. I have no recollection of the incident.

Despite this, I have been invited by a friend to attempt SCUBA diving. He assures me that it is a rewarding and safe hobby. I remain unconvinced but I have pledged to give it a go. This blog aims to document my journey.

My first SCUBA lesson is in two days. Feel free to talk me out of it.

Please.