by Timothy
With a boatload of hubris and a no modicum of humility to be found – I will tell you that I am a good diver. I came to the Gilis with exactly 100 dives. In the cold water and rough seas of Sydney I’ve had difficult experiences, and I’ve had to look after myself. Just like they teach on the rescue course, I’ve developed a firm belief that I can fix any problem with myself under the water. However, none of this experience – challenging or not – could have prepared me for the chaos we know as the DSD – the “Discover Scuba Dive”. It should be illegal to use such a diminutive term for what in reality is a thorough test of one’s skill and acuity.
“She’s alright” I relayed, “she found neutral buoyancy pretty quickly in the pool.” I briefed my instructor Isadora on my assessment on the skill level of our students for the day. Although the words took the shape of idle gossip, they served the purpose of conveying an expectation of how much work I expected each student to be. When we hit the ocean, she was fine at the surface and descended with none of the telltale issues which usually mark a beginner. She could equalize, she was comfortable with the water on her face, and she found neutral buoyancy just like we had practiced in the pool. Seeing her balanced and breathing fine, I expected an easy dive. That’s when she froze. Or when I say froze, I mean she kicked and paddled and flailed, but couldn’t quite seem to propel herself in the water. Isadora was there before I even processed what was happening, and crucially, before any panic could set in. She took our student and towed her, demonstrating neatly what it means to be a professional. I couldn’t believe it, cool, calm and collected she took this girl for the entire dive and still somehow kept an eye on the entire group.
Another time the difficulty had nothing to do with the water. By the time I went with Francesco I thought I’d seen it all. Mask issues, runaway ascents, SPGs showing the wrong pressure — you name it, it happened. When you think you’ve got it though, that’s when diving shows you all the new and exciting ways things can go wrong. This time one of our participants went down and up and down and up, and despite Francesco’s best coaching, this guy just didn’t seem to get it. Ok, no issue. Francesco pointed at me, and gave me a clear signal to abort the dive and take our beloved customer back to the boat. That was the easy part. The hard part was when the kind and well mannered gentleman started complaining that he wanted to go down again. The issue was, I could handle the task, but I was unprepared for the talk. I had to be the bad guy, and only guessing at Francesco’s intentions, explain that we had to abort our dive and get back on the boat. The guy wasn’t thrilled, but safety is safety, and honestly I was relieved. Managing buoyancy for someone who refuses to listen is a special kind of stress test.
It’s in these moments I learned the human elements of diving. The pure, unbridled empathy that instructors displayed in every moment, on each dive. The level-headed analysis of people’s swimming capability. The firm and gentle reassurance I saw them provide to people panicking. And the sheer capacity to do all this while being muted underwater! Any time a customer struggled, I saw my role models on them in an instant, often before I had realized that situation was even unfolding. It’s in these moments that I understand I have a lot to learn, and it’s also in these moments that I find inspiration in the competency of those around me. Truly I am blessed to learn from such demonstrative role models, and truly I am blessed to have done my divemaster training in the Gilis.
