MINDFUL LEADERSHIP

OTHREE DRYSUITS

Thoughts about the importance of body position and cave diving.

When we agree to lead a cave dive, we have — in effect — accepted a heightened responsibility. From one perspective — an important one — our job as lead diver is to keep our buddy(ies) safe, focused, aware and informed. In the simplest terms, we’ve agreed to get everyone to where we want to go, and — far more important — that on the way there, we’ll make the best effort possible to lay a breadcrumb trail to point the way back to where we started. And all this “work and responsibility” is so our journey back out of the cave can be completed without a hiccup or hesitation; and without any need for an in-situ debate. In other words, our exit will be clean, without stress, and fun.

Let me start off by saying it is a privilege to be the lead swimming into a cave. Even a dive along a familiar route has something to teach us, and leading any cave dive, even the most straightforward one, can be the greatest learning experience whether you are a newbie or a seasoned cave diver. Also, the lead diver is the one controlling the dive’s tempo and — to a great extent — its character. 

What an opportunity!

One simple secret to being successful in this role is communication. And since we can’t natter to our buddies as we swim, we have to use non-verbal ways to get a message across when we’re surrounded by water-filled rocks. Eyes and vision are the best options!

Every cave dive starts with a plan — well, at least it should do — and plans are created on the surface, perhaps with a map spread out on a table, and wetnotes in hand. This is when the route is decided, and this is when waypoints and navigation are discussed. (Other things too are decided, but right now, let’s focus on waypoints and navigation.)

So, let’s say that I’ve been designated to lead a team of three open-circuit divers. We have a particular section of the cave in our sights, and the purpose of our visit is to take an “I-love-me-wall” photograph (or perhaps one for a magazine) when we get there.

At some point during the planning process, I will have transferred the basics of our conversations to a page or two in an underwater notebook. That conversation may have been condensed into no more than a simplified stick drawing of the cave’s main line with mnemonic notes such as “T-Left, T-Left, T-Right, Second Jump Right.” All that’s important is that I’ve created it, shared it with my team, and everyone is agreed that it’s correct.

With our dive goal in mind, my team and I will have also worked out how many reels, spools, and navigational markers I need (and they need) for this dive, including how and where each will be deployed.

Great, all straightforward so far; now I just have to do it in the water, during the dive, making sure I get everything in the right place, and at the right time, with fluency and skill. For a relatively experienced and active cave diver, that in itself should be relatively easy, and should be fun; more of a challenge is that my teammates have to SEE me do it, agree with my placements, and understand the consequences of any navigational decisions I make and mark. I also need visual confirmation from them that it’s okay to continue. In short, we need to communicate with each other throughout our dive but most definitely when there are decisions to be made and confirmed.

Key to these needs is positioning myself in the cave so that I can:

  1. see the main line and the line in the tunnel we’re jumping into (or at least the tunnel itself
  2. See my buddy(ies)
  3. Back-reference where we have been
  4. Scope out where we are headed.

To accomplish all of this, the way I orient myself becomes a critical communications skill. Clearly, the practice of laying in the water, ahead of my companions, facing forwards with the mainline — or whatever I’m working on — immediately in front of me and shielded from everyone else’s gaze is unacceptable and it’s lazy. Unacceptable because doing so is potentially dangerous. Lazy because with a little effort, we can do it properly.

Take for example if I were too lazy to place a marker at a line T; or if I swam across a gap without my buddy noticing? Or if something similar happened with a set of markers indicating the mid-point between two ends-of-line? Or if I obscured another team’s line markers from my buddy, and on the way back, they confused her. (Remember, when we turn our dive to head home, she — my buddy — will be leading.)

These what-ifs may be unlikely, perhaps, but nevertheless possible.

And so, the easy fix is to be aware and present at all times, know exactly what has to be done “right here, right now,” and to make a point of positioning myself correctly at every main decision point and to be sure my buddy(ies) can see me (eye contact) and can see exactly what I’m doing. 

(By the way, if you have ever asked yourself why your cave instructor insisted you learn helicopter turns and back kick — possibly beating you with a wet-noodle until you got it right — this is why. Precise control of your body position and orientation in a cave is a required skill for anyone going deeper into a cave than the drip line.)

For the record, decision points include, but certainly are not limited to:

    • Running a primary reel to the main line and installing an attendance marker
    • Making a planned jump by installing markers and line
    • Approaching a line T and marking it with a cookie or REM
    • Passing a jump but not taking it
    • Passing fixed line arrows indicating distance to end-of line
    • Passing fixed directional markers indicating an end-of-line different to the intended exit and marking/cancelling them
    • Passing another team’s spool, jump reel, line marker(s) or anything that may be confusing especially in a lights-out/low-vis exit
    • Dropping or retrieving stage or deco bottles
    • Any point during the dive where you want confirmation which way is “home”

Correct body positioning is simply a function of fore planning and common sense. Take for example setting a jump. An acceptable procedure for RAID divers is:

  1. Thinking ahead I prepare my line markers and a spool
  2. As we approach the jump, I signal the jump is ahead and get confirmation from my team that they understand what’s ahead
  3. At a convenient spot but within reach of the line and close to the marker or markers indicating the jump, I stop and change my orientation in the cave so that I can see the main line in both directions (and “okay” it if need be), I can see my buddy(ies), I can see the end of the jump line into which I’m going to tie my jump spool. (See diagram below.) 
Three divers and relative body positions

The team are going to jump to the left… The lead is correctly oriented to both see and be seen.

  1. I install my cookie indicating the direction of “out” and install a spool or jump reel
  2. I indicate the direction of “out” to my buddies with a hand-signal, and get confirmation
  3. I show them the direction I’m going to swim and when possible the bitter end of the jump line I am tying into
  4. I signal OK, wait for confirmation, and make the jump and install an attendance marker on my line close to my tied-off spool
  5. When the jump line is installed, I move away and orient myself to watch my buddies swim across and inspect the jump spool — confirming it is installed correctly and adding their personal attendance markers
  6. Everyone signals OK, I reorient to the direction of the jump line, and continue the dive.

Of course, different circumstances, and factors such as the size of the passage, the length of the jump, and the size of the team may require a slightly different approach, but what’s important — and a key pillar in safe cave diving — is that the lead diver takes the time and makes the effort to include his/her buddy(ies) in the decision-making process and pauses long enough to get confirmation that everything is understood and Okay at EVERY decision point. 

All this does take time. On a dive with complex navigation and five or six jumps, making the effort to be a good lead would add eight or ten minutes to the overall length of your dive. Who knows, perhaps more. However, taking the trouble to do things properly may mean the difference between everyone getting out as a team or not.

Yea, it’s worthwhile.

 

Steve Lewis is an avid diver, best-selling author, adventurer and motivational speaker. Among other eclectic pursuits, he is also a RAID Cave instructor-evaluator.

© Steve Lewis, 2019. 

Contact training@techdivertraining.org for more information or for permission to republish / share this essay.

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HOW CAN I EXPLAIN THE ATTRACTION OF WET ROCKS?

OTHREE DRYSUITS

A LOVE LETTER OF SORTS…
Somewhere on the simple, spiral DNA roadmap that each of us has inside every cell in our body is a tiny snippet of code that connects us to the desires of our first human ancestors; and beyond. And somewhere in that snippet is an even smaller piece of ageless programming that yearns to belong to the sky. Secretly, and deeply in our cultural past, we envy the birds, and crave to soar above this beautiful planet and for a short while, escape the relentless pull of gravity.

This lust for flight is hardwired in each of us; it is innate, nobody is immune to it. In a few of us, the appeal, is so strong we are driven to do extraordinary things to satisfy it. I choose to cave dive; and rather than giving into that desire, that hunger for flight, by soaring above the Earth, she allows me to float inside her; deep in her underground rivers; her canyons; her dark spaces. She has shared with me her secrets, and I love her for allowing me to enter into those places, to see her wonders, touch her delicacy, become lost in her beauty.

The principles of diving are simple. Basic physics manifest in weightlessness. Water supports us. With practice, we can hover in the water column without effort. With practice, we can spin, turn, glide, soar, dive, and somersault with a carefully applied and skillful flick of our feet. The cumbersome equipment we require to be comfortable, to see, to navigate, and to breathe in water disappears and we experience a unique freedom. We really can become one with the water; one with the earth. This is a form of worship.

In clear water the overall sensation of this experience is of flight; we are flying. The ocean offers this, but caves are, for me at least, more compelling, and the water in many caves is a clear as Evian water. The sensation of flying is within easy grasp.

The features of a cave — its decorations, its furniture, its rooms, cathedrals, crawl spaces, and sculptured, fractal surfaces, float by. Art. Just art.

So caves are special, and cave diving is a privilege extended to few. It is a small club, and membership can be expensive. Earth is a jealous lover. When she accepts you and allows you inside her, she expects your total respect and monogamy; an odd resentfulness of other mistresses. I have buried too many friends whose lives have been snatched from them for no greater reason than for a brief instant, they forgot to tell her how much she meant to them, they became complacent, they forgot to be gentle with her, and forgot to submit to her vanity and ego; they did not comply to her rules. And she allowed them to perish.

Perhaps all cave-divers are running on borrowed time. I cannot say. I have given in to the Earth’s fatal attraction. I have stopped worrying about that; I have been lucky. She allows me to woe her and accepts my devotion. She has guided me, and watched me fly through places no other human has seen. I have hung motionless except for the beating of my heart, loud and persistent in my ears, and looked at scenery veiled in darkness since the beginning of time; a place that has never allowed any other human to look at it. The Earth and cave diving have given me this.

And yes, it is only wet rocks, but to me this scenery is as beautiful as any reef, any wreck — and god knows the temptation to be unfaithful is present in them — however, reefs and wrecks are simply platonic relationships; pleasant dates, a brief press of the lips at the end of our time together. Caves are the object of a deep, visceral, want; a lust; a true love.

And you, my little Barefoot Forest Imp, understand and forgive my infidelity; and for this gracefulness, I adore you too.

How do I get there from here… Step one on the road to Technical Diving

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Here’s a very simple piece of advice if you’re being pressured — by your mates, your instructor, or a little voice inside your head — to sign up for a dive class. BEFORE wasting time and money on another course and its accompanying piece of plastic (or eCard): “GET A PLAN.”

Base that plan on what you want out of diving, and how much of your free time — and disposable income you want to dedicate to your plan.

Also, it will help motivate you if you work towards your goal with a buddy who has similar aspirations. Kinda like having a running mate who you can trust to ignore the rain and the wind, and to meet you at o-dark hundred on winter mornings to jog 10 k.

And finally, be realistic with your schedule. You will be doing yourself a disservice piling training sessions one on top of the other. PACE yourself. There’s no prize for the one who “finishes” first.

(Well, two things about that: there is no finish, at least none I can see. After more than 20 years teaching technical diving, I’m still learning; Secondly, you will grow more and become a better diver by punctuating your dive trips (read “experience gathering expeditions”) with targeted training sessions rather than the other way round. There is certainly no set ratio; everyone is different, but think about starting out by saying for every thousand dollars/pounds/Euros/shiny beads I spend on travel, I’ll put 200 in my training fund piggy bank.)

Okay, so here are ten tips to help you get your plan created:

  1. Have a long-term goal in mind. “I wanna dive the Empress of Ireland, the Bianca C, and the MS Mikhail Lermontov; I want to swim the Grand Traverse; I see my future-self on a rebreather at 100 metres taking samples for scientific research; My daughter and I have a trip to Truk Lagoon planned and I wanna be ready, etc.” All perfectly valid goals. Write yours down on a piece of paper and stick it on the fridge door.
  2. Create a budget for time and money. Quality training cost money. For many classes with a professional instructor, you should be planning to spend $250 – $350 per person, per day on average. Most classes, complex classes like cave or decompression or basic CCR, can last five or six days. By all means research your choices; get booked with someone you’re happy with, but don’t skimp on money or time.
  3. BEWARE of any operation/individual guaranteeing you’ll get certified. Technical certifications are earned not bought, who knows how you’ll do? There are no guarantees you’ll pass; but a good instructor will make sure your experience will be money well-spent.
  4. Create a timeline… with waypoint so your progress can be followed. You’ll need help with this. Ask advice. Then get a second or third opinion. The answers will tell you a lot about the instructors/operations/dive shops you ask!
  5. Think laterally when searching for help with training (your pathway might take you away from your local dive shop and towards an independent professional, it may take you to the next town or out of the country. So, THINK GLOBAL… it’s make you grow.
  6. Ask: Am I ready to have most of what I know about diving, challenged and modified?
  7. Am I willing to travel?
  8. Do I do well with constructive criticism? Technical instructors are trained and conditioned to pick bad habits apart. The process can be unsettling for a student with “issues.”
  9. Are you aware that going deeper, staying longer, breathing different gases, swimming in overhead environments all carry more personal risk of injury, death or worse?
  10. And finally, you need to understand and appreciate that some forms of diving are addictive. They will take over your life. Are you ready for that?

 

Good luck and “Dive Safe!”

Stage-bottle logic

OTHREE THERMAL PROTECTION

There are different schools of thought about the “best” way to manage gas volume when cave diving with stage bottles.

The so-called traditional method is to treat the gas carried in stages, exactly as the primary gas supply: breathe one-third on the way in; one-third on the way out; and leave one-third for contingencies. If nothing hits the fan on a dive following this method, divers surface with stages, and primary cylinders each about one-third full.

Yet another option is “half + 15.” With this method, contingency gas for the stage is carried in the primary cylinders. This method requires a little more thought and arithmetic; but is considered by some to be the most conservative and best method when multi-staging. If everything goes smoothly when employing this method, divers surface with stages close to empty, but with all the contingency gas in their primary cylinders, which — with a single stage — translates into the primaries (twins or sidemount) being around half-full or more.

And finally there’s the seat-of-your-pants method which like half + 15, allows around half the volume of the stage bottle to be breathed, but critically, unlike half + 15, does NOT preserve any additional contingency gas in one’s primary cylinders. Provided nothing goes awry, divers using this “technique” surface with empty stages and primary cylinders with about one-third remaining. You don’t have to have a phD. in risk assessment to realize this is the most “liberal” way to dive stages; if anything dramatic happens, it can mean that divers do not surface at all.

But let’s leave discussion on the pros and cons of each method as the topic for a later blog post. Let’s focus instead on an error we should avoid when diving with stages in a cave regardless of which gas management rule we follow. That error is dropping a stage immediately its turn pressure has been reached.

It seems to be a more logical, more conservative, and therefore better practice to carry the stage and it’s extra gas a little further into the penetration.

Let’s look at a couple of disaster scenarios, and see why the habit of carry stage bottles a little deeper tends to be the better option.

Two divers (the ubiquitous Diver A and Diver B) have planned a stage cave dive. For the sake of simplicity, each is using the same size primary cylinders and each has the same sized aluminum stage bottle. Each has identical consumption, and fill pressures in all cylinders are identical. (An unlikely situation, but convenient for our purposes!)

Also, to forego any confusion over bar/litres or PSI/cubic feet, let’s consider the starting pressure in the primary bottles as 3P; and in the single stages as 3S. Our divers, A and B opt to dive following the Rule of Thirds in both primary and stage bottles.

OK, scenario one: Our divers begin their dive and, conventionally, breathe from their identical stages to start their dive. After a pressure drop of 1S, they drop their stages… each has 2S of gas remaining .

They swim on breathing primary gas. They each consume 1P of primary gas and signal “turn the dive.” At precisely this moment, Murphy joins their dive, and Diver A has a massive problem with his primary gas supply. He signals his buddy, and they share gas. Now Diver A and Diver B are breathing from Diver B’s 2P volume of gas.

If things go well — no entanglement, no slowing down because of restrictions, no elevated breathing rates, no taking a wrong turn in the confusion, and no arguments over navigation — they make it back to their stages with zero pressure in Diver B’s primary cylinders.

They grab their stages, and spend the rest of their exit thinking about how close a call they just had. They each surface with 1S pressure of gas in their stages, but zero in their primaries.

OK, scenario two is similar: But in this case Diver A and B when they have consumed 1S of the gas in their stages, switch to their primary gas, and opt to carry their stages a five or six minutes, or more, further into the cave before dropping them.

At the same point in the dive — just after the turn — Diver A suffers the same disaster, and has nothing to breathe. So, both exit breathing from Diver B’s 2P volume of gas; however, in this case, they reach their stages a few minutes earlier than in scenario one. There is gas in Diver B’s primary cylinders when they pick up their stages and continue their exit, during which they give thanks that they carried their stages further into the cave.

They surface with less than 1S of gas in each stage having perfectly justifiably used some of the reserve contingency gas in those stages to exit calmly. Diver B has some gas in her primaries; and, as in scenario one, Diver A’s cylinders are still empty.

Now we might argue the likelihood of the type of complete gas loss Diver A suffered in both scenarios one and two as remote… highly rare, probably impossible. But what cannot be disputed is that in scenario two, by carrying their stages for just a few extra minutes during their swim in, they had contingency gas placed in a better place than in scenario one.

We can debate how best to manage contingency gas volumes in stages (there may be benefits to each method), but in most cases it seems a better, more logical option to think before you drop; and wait.

Dive Safe!

Double Arrows… what do they mean exactly?

OTHREE DRYSUITS

Cave divers have a secret code… well, according to a non-cave-diving buddy we do. And perhaps she’s right; we do have a few odd hand-signals that are specific to cave diving.

What I did not mention to her when explaining the peculiarities of “ I’m Stuck,” “Changing Second Stages,” “Tangled in Line,” and “Okay buddy, I’ll help yer, but you’re gonna owe me…” was that some of the basic signs we take for granted in North America, are not universal in every cave-diving community.

Double arrows indicating proximity to a jump / side passage is a good example. (See the photo below.) Outside of North Florida, this may or may not signal what it does here: time to tie in a jump spool, fix attendance cookies to the gold line, and “Let’s go roaming!”

JUMPARROWS_BW

What’s perhaps more baffling is that even in the North American cave diving community, there’s a general misunderstanding about what exactly is meant by another set of double arrows.

The picture below shows two directional arrows pointing in opposite directions. Similar but with a very significant difference… well different certainly… but how!?

ENDLINE_bw

Until recently, I thought it generally accepted that this particular configuration indicated the mid-point between two “Ends of Line.” But during the past month, diving various caves but none separated from another by more than a two-hour drive, I heard it referred several times as indicating a “Safe exit in either direction” or “The halfway point between two exits.”

While it’s a fact that an end of line — a break in the main line — is usually where the overhead has a hole in it and daylight streams into the blackness of the cave proper, that is absolutely NOT the same thing as a safe exit; and the difference is more than a question of semantics, with the potential for a bad day ahead for assuming it is.

So, lets think about why this is.

A cave diving team, unless one of them’s clairvoyant, can only be sure of one safe exit: the one they came in by. Everything else is a mystery, and in truth, in a few cases there’s no absolute guarantee that when they get back to the hole they came in by, it’ll still be passable. Perhaps the only sure bet is large, open caverns like the entrance to Jackson Blue Springs in Jackson County, on Florida’s panhandle.

Caves, and especially sinkholes, have a dynamic nature. A sinkhole that a diver could climb in and out of yesterday, may have suffered a mini-landslide overnight making it impassible today. A tree providing shade last week, may have had its root system undercut by yesterday morning’s downpour, and is now sitting in the sinkhole like Aunt Zenia’s potted aspidistra: short of digging out, there is simply no exit now. A rock may have fallen from the ceiling a few feet from the sinkhole blocking access with an immovable chunk of limestone and 40-million-year-old fossils.

So, that’s why it’s a little risky to assume the mid-point arrows indicate anything other than equal distance between two ends of the main line, and nothing more… at least that’s the case in North Florida.

“Teaching” yourself Situational Awareness (SA)

OTHREE DRYSUITS

SA is not easy for an instructor to teach. Since some level of SA is innate for most of us, many instructors opt therefore not to include an SA module in their technical diving programs, preferring to simply “mark” a student’s SA as there or not there. Of the instructors who DO include SA in their classes, most do so with an understand that their role is to create a non-threatening, learning environment… she/he facilitates rather than teaches, because, with a little guidance, most students — with direction — do fine once they’ve been show the value of SA. It’s more efficient that way, but hereare some “techniques” I believe may help you (or your students if you teach) become more aware: more clairvoyant. 

Awareness — both in water and out of it — is a choice. We have to choose to build awareness of what’s happening around us: and how what’s happening now can influence what is going to happen next either positively, or what’s more important, negatively. So, when we dive — and especially when we dive deep or in tough conditions, or in an overhead — rather than being pushed from moment-to-moment with the flow as it were, and with no idea of what comes next, we can project “current events” into the immediate future. This  helps to protect us. With this skill, we can focus on things that matter — threats — and ignore the superficial and unimportant things that have no real importance — things that are simple distractions. Developing this skill takes time, but — with very few exceptions — we are all capable of its mastery. And without exception, developing and refining this skill will make every diver a better diver.

First we have to understand what a baseline is. A baseline is normal activity: noise; motion; actions; a series of things unfolding as they should in an anticipated order; everyday things that signal things are just fine and will stay that way — at least until something changes… and it’s that change we need to notice, understand, and be mindful of its implications.

Here’s a suggestion: begin in a quiet space… like a park or backyard. Be still and silent. Listen to what’s going on around you. If this were the 1970s and we were sitting around burning incense, and a block of Hash, I’d say: “Still your mind.” Since it’s not; and we’re not, let’s simply say, Focus on this baseline; it is the norm for that environment AT THAT TIME. Consider anything a threat that is not part of it; any odd noise, movement, circumstance… a dog suddenly barking, for example. Consider anything out of the norm, a potential threat… develop a healthy paranoia!

If possible, have someone introduce non-baseline “threats” — a footfall, a mobile phone alarm, a ball being kicked, a door opening, closing, being locked. Learn the appropriate reaction to each. Practice, practice, practice…

Try the same exercise in a shopping mall… more noise and a different baseline, but a baseline nevertheless.

Building awareness of the environmental baseline will help you to switch focus onto things that carry the potential to derail plans or possibly harm.

Now move your baseline awareness exercises to confined water

The secret of making any progress at all is to be relaxed and to be able to maintain your position in water column with quiet hands and feet. Your “consciousness” has to be directed away from yourself, so if you’re constantly fighting for buoyancy and trim, you will not have enough awareness left over to gauge and monitor the baseline!

Once you can focus on the baseline, have a buddy introduce “distractions” (displaying minor simulated problems with gear… letting an unclipped backup regulator hang loose, a fin strap not in position, a mask fogging up, rapid breathing, etc.) Practice these simulated “threats” during skills development dives. Document what is noticed and what is not. Simulate multiple oversights in gear and technique between you and your buddies… errant fin strokes, loss of buoyancy control, failure to respond to hand-signals. Make your debriefs learning exercises.

Enlightened self-interest tells us that a problem with our buddy’s gear, his or her piece of mind, lack of skill, is a potential  problem for us. That’s one of the most important values of good SA!

Most of all, apply what you learn on every “real” dive not just “practice” dives. Try to expand your SA every time you get into the water. I guarantee you’ll get more enjoyment — and less threat — out of your diving.

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How to get the most from a technical diving program/course

LongO'THREE

A common question is “What skills should I practice before my class with you?” The question is basically the same regardless of the course in question: intro-to-tech, full cave, it doesn’t seem to matter.

Oddly enough, the least helpful answer, is to send out the list of skills published in the instructor’s guide, and nothing else. Well, I guess it’d be less helpful not to respond at all, but a bare list of skills without any guidance, order of importance, value, or expectation of performance, doesn’t really tell much of a story; and certainly, is unlikely to help anyone prepare in a meaningful way. For example, what does adequate predive planning (taken from the standards for a major tech agency’s Cavern Course) mean in the real world?

If you’re signed up for a technical diving class this winter, next spring or whenever, and you’re wondering how best to prepare for it, the following tips may help.

First: if you haven’t already, speak with your instructor. Ask them about the class, get an agenda… what happens on day one, day two, etc. Ask for a breakdown of what they expect you to show them on each dive. Ask about their expectations regarding performance… what’s a pass, what’s a redo? Find out how much course time is practice time!

This last point is vitally important. A good class with lots of inwater time, will get you started on the road to building good habits. For example, the key to success in an entry-level cave or advanced wreck program is having enough time doing dryland drills to get the subtleties of a task – such as body position, where to point a light, how to hand off a regulator – refined enough to demonstrate well.

Secondly: study the equipment list, work out what’s gonna be a new experience for you, and practice how to use it. Reels – essential in so many tech programs, especially cavern, cave, wreck, and deco – are not all created equal, and even students who have first-class models, get screwed by their reels almost as soon as they get into the water. If you’re determined to buy BEFORE you start the class in order to get some practice, think simple and avoid gadgets. Here’s a model I use and recommend.

lightmonkey400

Also, most reels – including the one from Light Monkey shown above – come from the manufacturer loaded with too much line. It swells in water and with use, and falls off the edge of the spool. Take off line until there’s a half centimeter minimum of reel’s (or spool’s) body showing above the line. Here’s a picture of mine…

mylightmokey-200Notice, it is a similar reel (this is the 200 and the 400 is shown above), same manufacturer, but with line removed and a loop of equipment line added for the double-ended clip to make it hang a little more easily when stowed.

Also, learn where the new gear is going to be stored. Develop the muscle memory (the habit) of knowing how to get at it and then how to restow it. Every cave instructor has watched as one of their charges spends minutes searching for a line marker or struggling to stow a backup light.

Thirdly: relax. Arrive at your class rested and ready to learn.

And lastly: There is something called “instructor-induced narcosis.” It sometimes kicks in as soon as a student’s head disappears below the surface. Most instructors are expecting it to happen, and it usually has more of a negative effect on the student than the instructor. So, don’t sweat it! Take a deep breath, work out where things went wonky, try again.

Most of all, remember grow your skills, experience, comfort zone at your pace… and have fun!

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