SOLO DIVING
I live close to one of the
planet’s best diving regions, Bicheno.
On Tasmania’s east coast, the colours and diversity of the marine life
are spectacular and Bicheno is the jewel in the crown. Despite this, I struggled to find someone to
dive with. Most divers work during the
week and dive on weekends. I like to
spend my weekends with my family, who are at school during the week, so I found
myself diving on my own.
Diving alone was not a choice I
made lightly. Only recently did the big
dive training organisations start to accept solo diving. When I started, they still frowned on
it. Knowing an incident would incur the
wrath of the naysayers, I actually sat down and came up with a list of what
could go wrong on a dive and worked out how I would cope without another
diver’s help. I came up with strategies
for everything up to losing consciousness or catastrophic entanglement. For some solutions, I reconfigured my
equipment and for others I ended up carrying extra. I practised the skills I needed until I was
comfortable.
With twin tanks and time on my
hands, I found myself doing long, solo dives.
Run times in excess of two hours became the norm in average depths of
just ten metres. I enjoy these
dives. They have a Zen-like quality; I
find peace in the solitude. I share the
underwater world with my bubbles, my camera and me.
PHOTOGRAPHY
For me, underwater photography is
the ultimate creative challenge. I find
inspiration in the imagery of photographers like Chris Newbert, Alex Mustard, David Doubilet and Stephen Frink. Knowing the
technical challenges they overcome to create their art, leaves me in awe.
One thing I’ve learned is that if
I ever dive without my camera, I will see opportunities for great photos.
I find my best underwater photos
come from longer dives. I need enough
time to get into my zone, to find a scene, then capture the image. I’m not good at fifteen minutes of mayhem; I
miss the Zen.
DECOMPRESSION DIVING
In an article I wrote for Sportdiving Magazine in 2006, I said:
“Before doing
the course, if someone had asked me why I wanted to exceed no-decompression
limits, I would have trotted out the standard answers about wanting to see what
is in deep water and hoping to improve my overall diving skills. Now that I’ve done the course, I spent some
time thinking about why I do the things I do and gained unexpected insight into
my own psyche. The reason I did a decompression
diving course was to challenge myself mentally and physically in an environment
of controlled risk. Sure, I am curious
about what is down there and I do think my diving skills improved, but overall,
it was about the personal challenge.
“For me, just
scraping through the course was never an option. The thing about personal challenges is that
the level of satisfaction gained is proportional to the effort put in. Studying the theory and visualising the
skills were as important to me as the actual diving. Coming to terms with the equipment and
procedures required real effort, but the sense of achievement I gained from
completing each skill made it all worthwhile.”
And that still stands. I gain great satisfaction completing
decompression dives where everything goes to plan. Just swimming around on these dives feels
good. Knowing the effort that went into
preparation makes it more rewarding.
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