Utila – Week 6, Day 3: Sidemount Survival
UTILA
Week 6
Day 3: Sidemount Survival
December 20, 2022
My morning started off with yet another goodbye. While most backpackers come to Utila for a few days or a week, I had already been there for six. Saying goodbye to people who’d rotate in and out of my life had become inevitable.
I’d be seeing Andreas off at the ferry. I felt weird about it. We had met almost two months before in Santa Ana, El Salvador, where we spent a few days going around together. Then we hooked up and I fell for him. Then we parted ways and when he eventually crossed all of Central America to come see me here, I practically shut him out – too focused on diving to care about anything else.
In a way, him leaving came with a sort of relief – mostly cause I’d have more freedom to do whatever I’d feel like doing without him hovering. Also cause he could be so annoying at times. But on the other hand, I had kinda gotten used to having him around – it felt like I had this platonic boyfriend who had really gotten to know me (and who’d sometimes get me free brownies). On the bright side, there’d be no one waking me up in the middle of the night anymore. I definitely wouldn’t miss that. But, on the whole, I think I would miss him by the end. So yeah, goodbye Andreas!
The Return of Sidemount Stress
Back at Underwater Vision, I found myself in angst once again. Just the thought of going back to sidemount diving had me shuddering. I was dreading it. I had taken a break from diving – one I really needed – and in the process felt a bit better and forgot all about my diving fails. Remembering I’d go back to doing the sidemount course felt a lot like being shell-shocked.
That morning, I could hardly concentrate on anything – my nerves taking over every other impulse and feeling. I bought Noah a six-pack and promised him dinner at RJ’s (best value for money on the island!) as an apology for what had transpired two days earlier, and in advance for what might possibly happen during our second dive. I knew I’d be hyper-vigilant and super focused, but still, I knew anything and everything could go wrong at any time. I tried to recompose myself, thinking everything would be fine – that I’d never make that same mistake again – but then I’d start worrying about making a different one. Worrying about causing more harm. More shame. My confidence was at an all-time low. So much for letting myself off the hook and relaxing!
During the briefing, Noah told Clive and I we’d be gearing up in the water and then go down to practice the same skills we had already gone over. I could only think of the gearing up part. I went over the steps a thousand times in my head – every time missing one of them – making me feel dumber and dumber, my anxiety rising to an all-time high. I was shaking like a leaf, my eyes a blur. I swear, I was never that anxious before. All the challenges I’ve ever faced in my life – exams, breakups, deaths – everything paled in comparison. I couldn’t rationalise it. I was simply distraught.
It didn’t take much for Clive and Noah to realise what was going on in my head, and despite their reassurance, nothing could soothe my nerves.
Underwater Meltdowns
I was so lost in my thoughts I didn’t even realise we had gotten to Moon Hole and were ready to go down. I put on my harness, grabbed my tanks, and made my way to the edge of the stern.
I asked Noah whether I was all set, not trusting myself with anything, held onto the tanks with dear life, and made the plunge. The second I touched the water, I went into a frenzy, trying to secure my tanks as fast as possible. I was breathing heavily, my tunnel vision preventing me from focusing on anything else. I made sure all the clips and bungees were correctly tied and then rechecked everything five times more. By this time, Noah and Clive had both joined me, gearing up slowly and without any trouble. I noticed I had already burned through 500 psi of air and we hadn’t even began the dive!
This was me, yet again, rushing through the most fundamental steps. I had, once again, failed – despite my gear being set up correctly. “Slow down!” I chastised myself. I had to calm down. Deep breath in, deep breath out. In and out. Iiiin and ouuut. This was meant to be fun. I had nothing to lose, nothing to gain, nothing to prove.
As we descended, I held on to my tanks as possessively as you would a diamond-encrusted 24-karat Rolex. Once at the bottom, we went through the skills again without any trouble and then proceeded with the fun dive.
I checked the clips and made sure they were still attached to my harness every minute or so. I just couldn’t focus on anything else. It was anything but a fun dive. I just wanted everything to go well – nothing more, nothing less. When Noah pointed out a huge-ass barracuda to us, I feigned interest just so he’d think everything was fine. When he handed me a leaf he found on the seafloor to cheer me up, I pretended I appreciated the gesture and that it was all in good fun.
Clearly, I still hadn’t recovered from the previous incident. In a way, it was even worse – cause I knew that these things happen when you least expect them, no matter how attentive you are. But I just couldn’t help myself. I also noted my technique was worse than the previous dive – my trim was off and my air consumption was terrible. But at least everything went fine.
After we surfaced, hugging my tanks throughout, I made sure both were still clipped onto my harness one final time, giving each of them a couple of hard tugs, and then handed them to Catherine at the surface – her face brightening my day.
Tangled Hoses and Redemption
Back on the boat, I felt disappointed in myself. I had to calm down and slow myself. Stop, breathe, and think – that’s one of the most fundamental rules in diving. I simply had to do it.
On the second dive, I swore to do just that. We did a negative entry and jumped straight into the water with an uninflated bladder and the tanks in our hands. I took a deep breath, clipped the tanks to my harness slowly, going through the steps one by one, and – all calm and relaxed – I found I had done a pretty good job. Only one hose was wrapped around my neck incorrectly. I still took it as a win! What came after was just a fun dive in Labyrinth. Swimming at that point felt freeing. I could finally enjoy the dive again. My air consumption went back to baseline and my trim was once again great.
I can’t say it lasted long though. At one point, Noah pointed toward a swim-through we’d be entering – tanks unclasped and in front of us. The very idea of unclipping my tanks practically gave me PTSD. But screw it. I had to do it. It was part of the performance requirement. That’s one of the main reasons to do sidemount after all – to streamline and help you get through tighter spaces.
After giving myself a few seconds to think, I unclasped the tanks and swung them forward. The second I did that, I floated up – the tanks hitting a rock overhead. Clive, following behind, had a field day with it. He later admitted that that week, he felt like a hero just being next to me as I failed over and over – which, I guess, is fair enough. Anyways. As I began to float upwards, I deflated my bladder a bit and pushed the tanks down with all the strength I had, forcing them below me to regain control. Once I’d sorted myself out, I went ahead inside the swim-through.
I can’t quite say it was a smooth ride – hitting a bunch of rocks and getting scratched multiple times along the way. But I wasn’t too hard on myself – I was still learning. Also, I was just glad I had made it in the first place. By the second swim-through, I felt more at ease. By the third, I had regained some of my self-confidence. So much so that when I realised that some of the hoses were tangled I unclipped the tank to get myself out of the mess without so much as having a panic attack! The same can’t be said for Noah who went mad the second he saw me unclipping the tank – the previous days’ nightmare flashing in front of his eyes. All calm and composed, I signalled him to wait, and as I untangled myself, he realised it was intentional. I had it, and he knew that.
After getting back on the boat, I was just happy the course was over. As much as I had enjoyed trying it out and as amazing it felt (the Tank Incident apart), I can’t say I felt confident enough to dive using sidemount just yet. Even though I had gotten my certification, I’d probably not use it until I’d master normal diving. I had just begun diving, tec diving could wait.
Stay wild,
Marius
Post-Scriptum
In an effort to make me feel better about my skills, Amelia admitted she’d put on her belt the wrong way round – rookie mistake, pfft.
Also, she told me about the dive Monkey led that morning. Turns out, he took a group (of unhappy customers) down to about five metres for half an hour, meaning they practically went a snorkelling tour. At one point, he also got lost and they had to wait for him. When he eventually showed up, Amelia explained that they wanted to go a bit deeper. At this, he shot down to 22 metres – way deeper than he should have given that the customers were Open Water divers. He also failed to find his way back to the boat.
That definitely made me feel better about my skills. Then again, I was still the only one who had dropped a friggin’ tank. Oh well, at least I could actually joke about it now!