The real-world guide for divers who want to enjoy their sport to the fullest
More than half of the 1.5 million people who achieve scuba certification each year are stymied in their pursuit of the sport because they lack time and money to enjoy the exotic diving experiences they've read about, and don't want to be confined to group dives. The Certified Diver's Handbook is the only guide to help them create their own diving adventures on any budget, on any schedule, in waters local or distant, and without the restrictions of group demands. Thirty-year diving veteran and photojournalist Clay Coleman provides the insider's tips and how-to advice divers need to equip, plan, and execute their own diving expeditions. Divers will learn how to:
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Clay Coleman has been scuba diving since 1973. He's been working as a freelance photojournalist for national magazines since 1994. The publications he has worked for include: Sport Diver, Scuba Diving, and Boating Life. Additionally, he has written for The Louisiana Conservationist, a bi-monthly publication of the Louisiana State Department of Wildlife and Fisheries. His exploits as a Gulf diver and spear fisherman were included in the recently published The Helldiver's Rodeo, by Humberto Fontova (M. Evans & Co., 2001). A member of the Louisiana State Bar since 1979, Clay is a lifelong resident of Baton Rouge, LA, where he lives with his wife and two sons. HOMETOWN: Baton Rouge, LA
Declare your diving independence
Now that you've got your diver’s certification, make the most of it! The Certified Diver's Handbook supplies all the advice and information you need to make diving an ongoing and rewarding part of your life. This definitive, real-world guide is packed with helpful facts and suggestions on everything from equipment, safety, and rescue procedures to techniques for shore diving, drift diving, night diving, and much more. You’ll learn how to take responsibility for your dive planning and your safety underwater. You’ll also find:
With The Certified Diver's Handbook, you can become an active, independent diver and make diving not just a special event, but a way of life.
"From masks to valve regulators, from rip tides to thermoclines, from fireworms to sharks—Clay overlooks nothing! You've never been through such a comprehensive course."—Humberto Fontova, author, The Helldivers' Rodeo: A Deadly, Extreme, Scuba-Diving, Spear Fishing Adventure Amid the Offshore Oil-Platforms in the Murky Waters of the Gulf of Mexico
"Finally a book written by a diver who loves the sport and manages to get his message across in an entertaining way."—Chuck Nicklin, cofounder of The Dive Locker, Emmy–award winning underwater cinematographer
"You won't find a more comprehensive, easy-to-read book about diving. This is a must-have for divers of all experience levels."—Bonnie J. Cardone, former editor of Skin Diver magazine, editor of The Fireside Diver: An Anthology of Underwater Adventure
Clay Coleman, shown here in the Caribbean with his wife and dive buddy Sharon Coleman, began diving, photographing, and spearfishing beneath the oil rigs off the coast of his native Louisiana in 1973. A member of the Louisiana State Bar since 1979, his first article appeared in Sport Diver magazine in 1994. His writing and photographs have been published in numerous diving, conservation, and boating magazines.
| Acknowledgments | |
| Introduction | |
| Chapter 1 Switching Attitude Gears | |
| Chapter 2 Equipment | |
| Chapter 3 Gear Maintenance | |
| Chapter 4 Gadgets That Work, And Good Ideas | |
| Chapter 5 How To Buy Equipment | |
| Chapter 6 Kindred Spirits And First Trips | |
| Chapter 7 An Introduction To Mother Ocean: Water Weight And Density | |
| Chapter 8 The Weather: Wind And Waves, Storms, And Currents | |
| Chapter 9 The Marine Environment | |
| Chapter 10 Going Diving | |
| Chapter 11 Staying Out Of Trouble | |
| Chapter 12 When A Good Thing Goes Bad: Basic Rescue Procedures And Diver Problems | |
| Chapter 13 Diving In The United States | |
| Chapter 14 International Dive Travel | |
| Appendix Underwater Photography | |
| Resources | |
| Index |
Switching Attitude Gears
As the saying goes, there are old divers and there are bold divers, but thereare no old, bold divers. I have no idea where the saying came from. It couldhave originated from a wise old diver who wanted to make a point about thefoolishness of youth, but I think it was more likely first proclaimed by a youngperson as a way of thumping the chest and announcing to the world, "Look at me,I'm young and bold." I think this because the corollary, "Look at me, I'm oldand cowardly," just doesn't sound right. Whatever the case, now that I'm whatmust be considered an old diver, the saying doesn't seem quite as pithy to me asit once did.
Of course, being old does not necessarily mean being smart, but it does give mea perspective on the evolution of the sport of scuba diving that younger diversmight not have.
Don't panic! I'm not about to start waxing nostalgic about the "good old days"of scuba. The fact is, there has never been a better time to be a scuba diverthan right now. Scuba divers today have the benefit of options that simply didnot exist in the past—options ranging from interesting and accessibledestinations to a veritable plethora of training opportunities.
PADI (Professional Association of Diving Instructors) was a young certifyingagency when I got my Basic certification in 1973. The class was made up entirelyof young men, and it was conducted in a pseudomilitary fashion. We swam laps andtreaded water; we swam with blackened masks in a pool while our instructorharassed us. When it was all over, we took a written test and made a single divein the ocean. Surviving that, we were certified scuba divers—as qualifiedon paper as Jacques Cousteau himself.
Our visits to the local scuba shop after initial certification were solely forthe purposes of filling tanks or replacing gear. Advanced training wasavailable, but it was not promoted and was primarily for those wishing to becomeinstructors. Nobody logged dives (something I regret today), and divers wereknown locally only by reputation. Scuba certification was an either-orproposition. Either you were certified or you were not. Degrees orclassifications of certification simply did not exist as a practical matter.
Equipment was basic in those days. We had hard backpacks onto which steel 72-cubic-foot tanks were strapped. The negative buoyancy of the tanks pretty muchnegated the need for weight belts. We had uncomfortable safety vests that couldbe inflated on the surface by means of a small CO2 cartridge, but we seldom worethem. Submersible pressure gauges to keep track of our air were newfangledgadgets that were actually condemned by some hard-core divers of the day.Choices regarding gear were limited, and our rubber masks and fins rottedquickly.
Much of our gear was manufactured by the AMF/Voit/Swimaster Company and wascomparable in fit and quality to the packaged snorkel gear that can be found indrugstores today. We typically dove in nothing but a bathing suit or a pair ofshorts. Those who chose to dive in an "exposure suit" wore jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. The really fancy guys wore coveralls.
The lack of an established dive infrastructure limited our dive opportunities.Charter boats that catered to divers were virtually nonexistent in most areas ofthe country. Dive travel to the Caribbean was exotic and dicey. The islands weredifficult to reach and provided little, if any, support to recreational diving.Pacific destinations were worse.
Yet, we dove. We drove to the Florida Keys and other isolated pockets with diveinfrastructures. We weaseled our way on board local fishing boats, and we madetrips on independently owned boats. We dove off beaches and jetties. We dove anyway and anywhere we could.
Dive techniques in those days differed significantly from techniques used today.We made no safety stops, and our ascent rate was determined by the smallestbubbles of our exhalations. Of course, there were no dive computers, and our useof the dive tables was sporadic and undisciplined. Sometimes we dove with commonsense, but sometimes we dove with the common nonsense of youth. The fact thatnobody in my personal dive fraternity of friends ever suffered a serious diveinjury is a testament to the inherent safety of the sport of scuba diving.
Recreational scuba diving has certainly come a long way since then. In the pastthirty years, scuba has evolved into a mainstream activity enjoyed equally bymen and women. Manufacturers now offer a baffling array of high-qualityequipment, and most scuba shops offer an entire curriculum of training options.The sport is far safer and more convenient than it has ever been.
At the same time, something seems to have been lost. Despite an exponentialexplosion in the number of certified divers, relatively few divers are actuallystriking out by themselves and going diving. A whole new genre of "classroomdivers" has emerged as divers continue to pursue dive training but never seem toget around to using it.
I can think of more than one explanation for this. As scuba became moreavailable to those with only a casual interest, it stands to reason that morecasual divers would be produced. There's nothing wrong with that. Many resortscater to the casual diver, and the diving is supervised, fun, and safe.
There's another possible explanation that bothers me a little. As advanced-training options became commonplace, many divers began to get the idea thattheir Open Water I certification was somehow inadequate. If you enjoy diving andif you are reasonably confident and comfortable in the water, this idea issimply false. Your Open Water I certification is not merely a prerequisite formore-advanced training. It is your ticket to real diving adventure, and it isproof that you are a "real" diver, albeit possibly an inexperienced one.
Let's make this analogy: Scuba diving is like driving a car. Both activitiesrequire special training and the development of skills, and both can take you toplaces that you might otherwise not be able to reach. Once training is complete,both require a written test and a transitional period before you becomelicensed. For driving a car, this transitional period consists of behind-the-wheel practice with a learner's permit; for diving, it is your open-watertraining (checkout) dives made under the supervision of your instructor for yourdiver's license (C-card).
You weren't ready for Daytona on the day you received your driver's license. Onthe other hand, you probably didn't feel the need to get a chauffeur's licensebefore you actually started driving a car. You probably began your driving withshort excursions at times of light traffic until your skills and confidencegrew.
Likewise, Open Water I divers are not ready for a dive to the Andrea Doria.However, they are certainly qualified to dive most sites. By limiting theirdives to areas and conditions with which they feel comfortable, Open Water Idivers gain experience, skill, and confidence—attributes that areessential to diver development and cannot be learned in a classroom.
I certainly do not mean to disparage training beyond Open Water I. Quite thecontrary, I wholeheartedly recommend that you continue your formal training inall areas that interest you. Later in the book I recommend some of the advancedtraining that I think is most worthwhile. The point is that advanced classroomtraining cannot take the place of actual dive experience.
A relatively new phenomenon has developed in this age of advanced and specialtytraining. Some divers seem to be engaged in "card competition"—a game inwhich the diver with the most impressive array of certification and specialtycards is considered the "best" diver. While this kind of game might be moresuitably addressed in a book on ego management, it can present a real danger tothe players. Far too many divers mistake classroom training for actualcompetence.
The key to becoming an independent diver is a marriage between formal trainingand actual dive experience. Even though formal training beyond your initial OpenWater I course is necessary for some types of diving, your Open Water I trainingis enough to get you into the water to start building the experience that iscrucial to independent diving. Only through actual dive experience can yourealistically develop water skills and risk assessment skills, and only by thedevelopment of those skills can you become a diver capable of planning andmaking safe dives in a variety of conditions or situations.
Independent divers are those divers who have developed confidence in theircapabilities to the point that they assume sole responsibility for their dives.Of course, they will adhere to the buddy system, and they will seek the adviceof those with local knowledge and experience or of those with greater generalknowledge and experience, but independent divers do not defer to anyone onmatters of their personal safety or well-being. Becoming an independent diver isan act of personal responsibility as much as it is a declaration of freedom.
If you are a newly certified diver whose only dives have been under thesupervision of your instructor or a divemaster, it's time to change attitudegears. You are a trained diver, and, as such, your safety underwater is nolonger the responsibility of your instructor or of your dive buddy. It's yours.
As an example of independent decision making, I was recently on a live-aboarddive boat a hundred miles out in the Gulf of Mexico for two days of diving.(Note: Miles are statute miles unless otherwise indicated.) The weather wasmarginal, and the diving was marred by a hellacious surface current, poorvisibility, and high seas. After a full day of diving in those conditions, theboat's divemaster made an announcement that a night dive would be available butthat it was not for the squeamish.
I knew about half of the divers on the boat, having dived with them many timesbefore. I knew them to be more than capable of making the night dive. The otherdivers on the boat were newer divers, and some had struggled to overcomeproblems during the day with the diving conditions. After assessing the effortof the night dive against the probable reward, I told the divemaster that Iwould not make the dive and retired to my bunk for a bit of reading.
I returned to the dive deck some time later to see how the dive was progressing.Joining me on deck were most of the divers I knew. They had each decided to passon making the dive. All of the newer divers were paired with each other in theblack water.
The newer divers made it back on board without incident. Many exchanged storiesof problems encountered and overcome. The whistling wind and heaving sea made adramatic setting for their tales of adventure. Those of us who had passed on thedive smiled and nodded at the stories.
We smiled because we had eaten all of the brownies and ice cream normallyprovided by the boat for returning night divers.
All the divers on that boat could be considered independent divers. The newerdivers who had made the dive knew full well the conditions they would face anddecided that stretching their experience envelope was worth the effort. The moreexperienced divers who had passed on the dive felt no need to make a dive thatwould not be much fun.
Or maybe we were just a bunch of old, un-bold ice cream bandits.
Diving as a Lifestyle
I wish scuba diving was more like the game of golf. I don't mean that I wishscuba diving was more like a long walk interrupted by whacking a little ballwith a stick and cursing, but I do wish it was something that could be easilydone for a few hours on a Sunday afternoon.
Scuba requires travel and expense for the vast majority of us, and the planningand commitment involved tends to limit our time in the water. However, withproper commitment, scuba is an activity that can be enjoyed for most of theyear.
A common trap into which many divers fall is the tendency to plan only for theannual Big Dive Trip. These trips are typically to popular destinations, andthey are typically time-consuming and expensive. Don't get me wrong; they'regreat. However, by putting all of their proverbial dive eggs into one basket,these divers generally limit their diving to one week out of the entire year.
Wherever you live, there is probably a body of water suitable for diving withina day's drive of your home. It may not be the warm and beautiful blue-waterdiving advertised by the most popular sites, but the diving may well beinteresting and worthwhile. A summer of short dive trips to nearby destinationsrounded out by the Big Dive Trip in winter will provide you with more diving foryour investment in time and equipment than will a single annual trip. Localtrips are usually worth the small expense, and the dive experience gained willalways serve you as an independent diver. In fact, some divers become sointrigued by local diving that they dispense with the Big Dive Trip altogether.We explore the possibilities of local diving in more detail in chapter 13.
Active diving is a lifestyle. Whether actually in the water or not, the activediver stays interested and committed by keeping current on destinations,equipment, dive fitness, and dive skills. Always have a trip planned.
Pursuing Your Own Interests
As an admitted tunnel-visioned fanatic, I'm always curious about why anyonewould give up scuba diving. Some of the reasons are understandable. Some peoplesimply don't like the water. Some people feel claustrophobic in scuba gear.
There is another reason that I hear too often, and it pains me each time I do.The reason is, "Scuba wasn't what I thought it would be." This is clearly astatement that requires further investigation. To return to our "driving-a-car"analogy, making this statement is like saying, "I quit driving because the cardidn't take me anywhere I wanted to go."
Like most people taking up adventure sports, prospective divers tend toromanticize the activity. They envision themselves as explorers of the liquiddomain, going where no one has gone before on quests of discovery.Unfortunately, many experience something quite different. Here's an example:
I was recently engaged in a conversation with a casual friend at a socialgathering. As in most of my conversations, the topic turned to diving. He toldme that he did not care for diving—he enjoyed more adventurous and lesscrowded activities. Needless to say, my curiosity was piqued.
My friend told me that he had always enjoyed the water and that he had alwayswanted to learn to dive. He made a point of watching TV shows about theunderwater world. He did well in his certification class and he enjoyed all thepool sessions. His open-water training (checkout) dives were made in poorweather, but he got through them with flying colors. He was so excited to be acertified diver after his checkout dives that he immediately signed up for anexotic trip that was being promoted by the shop that had certified him. He hadbeen assured that the destination had some of the best diving in the world andthat the shop personnel accompanying the trip would provide for his every need.
I recognized the destination as an excellent choice. It does, indeed, haveworldclass diving off its shores. I wondered what could have gone wrong.
My friend said that he began to have misgivings about the trip at the airport.The group with which he was traveling was large and boisterous, and its membersseemed more excited by the prospect of visiting a famous bar on the island thanthey were about the diving.
Things got worse when the group arrived at their destination. The local diveoperator was not prepared for such a large group. Rental equipment was quicklyexhausted, and gear was borrowed from other operators to make up the difference.My friend ended up with a tattered buoyancy compensator that was too large forhim and a regulator that he did not trust, even though it performed well when hedove with it.
The group had a big first night at the bar and arrived generally unfit fordiving the following morning. The boat was crowded and chaotic. My newlycertified friend was surprised to notice that several divers in the group actedas if they had never seen dive equipment before and had trouble with theirsimple setups. The divemaster gave strict instructions that the group was todive together and follow her. As few of the divers had computers, the divemasterplanned the dive for the entire group, and she expected strict adherence to theplan.
Perhaps the biggest disappointment for my friend was the diving itself. The divesite chosen was a shallow patch reef in a sandy area. Most of the coral was deador damaged, and the large group kicked up enough sand to spoil visibility. Allthere was to see were the fins of the diver in front of him. A lone stingray wasthe highlight of the day.
The second day of diving was more of the same.
My friend declined to dive on the third and last day of planned diving. Heinstead rented a jeep and explored the island on his own. It turned out to behis most enjoyable day of the trip. He finished his story wondering why anyonewould spend a month's salary to travel so far only to be stuck on a crowdedboat, then to follow a jaded divemaster for an uneventful swim over a dead reef.
I had to admit to my friend that his experience was not uncommon. In fact, manypeople seem to actually enjoy it. However, it's a sad fact that many would-bedivers who have had this type of experience mistakenly believe that thisscenario is what diving is all about.
I explained to my friend that one of the most spectacular sights on the planetwas only a few miles from where he dove. While he was dutifully following hisdivemaster like a cod on a conveyor belt, other divers nearby were safelysoaring along a fantastic underwater cliff festooned with outrageous corals andteeming with fish. He had come within a hairsbreadth of the diving experiencethat had been his lifelong dream, yet he had missed it. Worse still, since hehad missed it, he had assumed that it was unattainable.
My friend had been what I call a dependent diver. He depended upon others tofulfill his wishes. He even depended upon others to provide him with theequipment he needed. He assumed that everyone wanted to do what he wanted to do,so he was willing to go along for the ride.
Diving is a vehicle. It is up to you to decide where it will take you. Whateveryour vision of diving was when you first decided to get certified, no matter howromantic or exotic, that vision is attainable. It is up to you to decide whatyou want to do and to research the best way to get there.
Excerpted from The Certified Diver's Handbook by Clay Coleman. Copyright © 2004 by Clay Coleman. Excerpted by permission of The McGraw-Hill Companies, Inc..
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