Diving with Dad pt 1 - First time spearfishing (what could go wrong?)
/In honor of upcoming Father's day I'll be doing a segment with stories that are focused on...you guessed it...dear ol' dad. I really hope to highlight the patience and thoroughness with which he taught me, and how he made sure that I always felt comfortable in the ocean as I grew up.
...............a ha............
Ok maybe not all that, but these stories always crack me up when I look back on them and I hope you'll get a kick out of them as well!
the man, the myth, the dad, doing what he loves...holding other peoples fish up and taking the credit
My First Time Spearfishing
After years of snorkeling with a pole spear, of sitting in the boat with a rod and reel just dying to get in the water with the big kids (and shoot the fish that kept stealing my bait), I had finally arrived. At 12 I had just gotten my Junior Open Water certification, which meant now I could tag along on spearfishing trips with my dad. This would be my second open water dive with tanks, the first time I dove offshore with him and his friends, and also the first time I used a real speargun. What could possibly go wrong?
Proof! And the best ID picture I've ever had in my life 💁♂️
I was excited out of my skin, so much so that even though I had just been in a class a few weeks ago I fumbled with the tanks and put the regulator on completely backwards. Didn't earn me any confidence points with dad and Bobby, but I was determined.
I finally donned all my gear we hopped in, and things were good. Air was coming through my regulator, I could see out of my mask, and as I deflated my BCD I started to sink...exactly as planned. I was such a pro. Until I had to load the speargun. I had been shown how it worked but had never actually loaded the bands myself...and it was not easy. I struggled behind my dad's back and finally managed to get one of the bands loaded onto the spear, and breathed out a bubbly sigh of relief.
how to load a speargun for dummies. should have brought this with me
We kicked along for a while, and I remember trying to shoot a fish or two but missing so poorly that the fish didn't even move. They just turned and looked at me and I swear I heard them say "Really? You were trying to shoot us!? Baaaahahahaha!" before they loitered around in front of my face, laughing uncontrollably while I frantically tried to re-load my speargun. Of course as soon as I was ready for a second shot they would magically float away, lazily lingering just outside my range in a fit of fyshterics.
Assholes
goliath grouper are a perfect example of a fish that knows you can't hurt it...and therefore give exactly zero f***s. just like my fish who knew i couldn't shoot them if i tried
Fortunately this wasn't dad's first rodeo. After all my bumbling and fumbling about he had just shot his second fish. I remember hearing the "CLACK" of the speargun going off, seeing the thrashing of the fish on the spear, and watching my dad move in to secure it. It was so intense and exciting, I was completely in awe and was soaking the whole scene in with such fascination!
And then I noticed...I mean maybe it was just a fluke...but it felt kind of hard to breathe. So weird, probably just a glitch or something like that, or most likely me simply being irrational and getting a little spooked.
Breathe in.
Oh...yeah that's definitely something. I'm getting a little air but it's taking a lot of effort. Could it be my valve? My regulator? Is something kinked?
Breathe i-
Ok now I'm not getting full breaths of air. What pressure is my tank at?
Oh........oh that's not good.....it makes sense but.....that's not good at all. Daaaaaaaaaad!!!
I was out. I gunned it over to my dad and started beating on his arm to try to get attention. Unfortunately I had come at a very inopportune time, yet gained some great insight on my dads priorities. He was still working on getting that fish secured, and was completely wrapped up in his task.
But this was important. This was my LIFE! I HAD NO AIR! DAAAD!
I beat on his arm again, to the same response. Nothing. It was time now...I hadn't had a full breath of air in what felt like minutes, each breath was getting more difficult and more desperate, and I was 40' below the surface. I had to make a choice. I could continue banging on my dads arm or I could take matters into my own hands. I remembered all of the dangers of surfacing from a scuba dive, and how your lungs could expand and explode from the pressure change and you could get decompression sickness from the nitrogen that wasn't allowed to off gas. But that was my best option at this point.
actual image of what happened next
I took ahold of my gun, looked up towards the surface that was an agonizingly long way away, and started kicking towards the light as I blew bubbles with everything I had. Trying to blow bubbles (exhale) when you don't feel like you have a thing left in your lungs, and you're 40' from the surface, is a very uncomfortable sensation...but it seemed like a better alternative to my lungs exploding...so I kept blowing bubbles.
Eventually I made it to that glorious surface, confident in the fact that I was going to need to be medivac'd to the nearest chamber for pressure treatment.
Fortunately there was no need for that. There was almost a need for my dad to be medivac'd when he got back to the boat because I was so mad he hadn't given me air, and I conveniently still had my speargun loaded, but that didn't happen either.
wasn't sure who it would be, but i was pretty sure either my dad or i would end up like this guy
All in all it was a great learning experience, a challenge, and a great foreshadowing of what many future dive trips would look like.
Ignorance is Bliss
If I had any idea what was in store for me I probably wouldn't have looked this happy...confident...strong...youthful...zestful... ok you get the point. Next time we'll talk about how I became really good friends with a barracuda or 50 in the Bahamas!