Recently, I was part of an online panel discussing the history of scuba diving. One of my fellow panellists mentioned the film Blue Water, White Death as having been a watershed as far as awareness of the need to protect large marine animals was concerned.
This summer I went back to the beach where I spent most of my summers as a kid. It is my happy place. The beach is clean, the sand is white, and the ocean is generally lovely—and there are rarely many people.
There are small children with red buckets and blue shovels, building sandcastles or trying to catch small shrimp or tiny crabs in the shallows. The older ones joyfully play in the waves. Meanwhile, their grandparents enjoy a leisurely swim or just bobbing about.
Getting back into diving after a break is something a lot of us will be doing soon, as pandemic restrictions lift. At least, we hope so. This is the story of one diver’s experience of returning to the sport—although, in his case, he had been out of the water for 20 years!
We have more than 7,300km (4,536mi) of coastline here in Denmark, so no matter where you are in our country, the sea is not far away.
This issue’s column tells the story of two dives, which took place half a world away from each other. The dives placed two divers in a situation where they had to make a choice.
In part one of this series, which appeared in issue #103, I suggested a few commandments to consider in order to ensure, as far as possible, that your technical dives are safe and successful. These were: First commandment: Prepare paperwork; Second commandment: Nominate a supervisor; Third commandment: Deploy safety divers. In this sequel, I deliver a few more tablets of stone.
As the international diving community has recently come to witness, a scandal surrounding Ahmed Gabr’s world record for deepest scuba dive has surfaced. Was it faked? Some accusers, who have opted to remain anonymous for reasons I shall not comment on at this point, have alleged that his record dive was faked, and to that end, have presented to the public a quite comprehensive compilation of evidence in support of their case. The documentation was compelling, but the jury is still out.
In the book Into Thin Air, journalist Jon Krakauer tells the story of five people who died near the summit of Mount Everest in 1996. Two were expedition leaders, one was a professional guide and two were their clients.
“Wait, wait,” you may say when you read the title of this column, “What are you talking about? Aren’t those two things the same? Isn’t a dive instructor by definition a scuba professional? And what do you mean by ‘Road’?”
It has already been way too long since we got wet and who knows how much longer it will be before we can go diving again, other than alone at a local dive site that may be open, if we are lucky.
The coronavirus outbreak is an eyeopener in so many ways. It is giving us lessons on what is important. When the pandemic hit in earnest, many of us suddenly found ourselves focused on more basic needs than usual. If not food and shelter, then at the least, safety and health, and the wellbeing of our loved ones, some of whom we were not permitted to visit.
