Allies and lies

William Shakespeare helped me dive.


What's William Shakespeare got to do with diving? For most people, nothing. For me? A lot. Here's the situation- When I was twenty five I 'taught' myself to swim badly but wasn't able to stand up in water beyond my depth or have the confidence to try and tread water. I was, as has been mentioned several times before now, terrified.


Whilst learning to dive I've been in my local pool trying to swim and float to the best (?) of my ability. The problem is I sink. Just lying there doesn't work, and even when I had my night in the pool with Mick S he finished the lesson with "ditch your BCD and weight belt, and just lie back in the water- the buoyancy will keep you up"


I'd bought a shorty to help with back warmth and buoyancy for this very night. Guess what happened? I lay back, relaxed...water closed around my face, I kept descending... and came up spluttering.


"...you really are negatively buoyant!" Mick said, "never seen anyone quite as bad as you before- never mind! We'll sort this somehow!"


Problem? Definately. Un-beatable? Not likely.


I tried every method I could think of in the pool and finally, two people came to my assistance- one was Chris herself, who had been coming in my gym pool every friday night and going up and down the lengths herself whilst trying to make observations about how I could improve my technique. The other is a wonderful woman called Sam.


For a number of years now, Sam has been the coach for the British Transplant Games Olympic swimming team (I kid you not! She's incredibly talented) and between them, they gave me the following piece of advice:-


1- you think too much

2- find something to think about and get into your head, so you stop concentrating on the water and think of something else.

3- do that, and before you know it, you'll be at the other end of the pool.


So I did. I managed two lengths instead of one, and when it came to the floating, I found the only way I could stay afloat was by 'sculling' (gently moving my arms and kicking my legs whilst on the surface)- this meant I would 'drift' on the water and found it almost impossible to stay still.


Whilst floating I managed a minute, then two, then three, back to one again, a thirty second failure, and so on.


Weeks of trying this when suddenly, one week, I hit upon an idea- they told me to think of something else whilst swimming, so that was exactly what I was going to do.


And Shakespeare came to my rescue. One soliloquy later, I'd gone to my local pool, recited a piece from Romeo and Juliet over and over (I think it was thrice, verily) and by the time I crashed into another swimmer (sorry!) I stood up and looked at the clock...


12 minutes...




Pardon?




Hang on, that meant I could do part of...


The next Thursday lesson loomed and Chris suggested I try the swimming test. Being a non swimmer and never been able to float that well, this was my major fear- if I was going to fail, it would be now.


The pressure was enormous (no diving pun intended)


As said on an earlier entry, to qualify for the open water course, a dive student has to complete two parts of a swimming test:



1- swim eight lengths of a 25m pool (200m in total) without stopping.


2- float or tread water for 10 minutes. (Did i mention the 12?)




I'd never swum eight lengths in my life before and had managed to float for 12 MINUTES (sorry- got carried away there)


Fear? Yeah, you know the rest. You've an idea of how much I was (insert appropriate word) myself at this point. It didn't help driving to the pool with miss NLP-trained observer of the year!


"You're getting nervous again" Chris commented in that appallingly calm, moderated, under-whelmed voice, "you've curled up into a ball in your seat"


Thank you, ma'am. I love her to bits, but sometimes she can be so...


We hit the pool and for once my change isn't into a shorty- it's just into a pair of swimming trunks (advised to go for the leanest pair of speedo's I own to cut down on water resistance) so whilst everyone else is kitted out like James Bond, I'm stood there in my 98% birthday suit and a little black thing around the middle.


Silent. Contemplative. Bricking it. Gratefully, everyone else left me alone.


The plan was, I would attempt the 10m float part of the swimming test, and on Chris' instruction, I would 'have a go' at the swim test but not by swimming normally- because I'd never done eight lengths in my life, I was to do eight lengths in mask, fins and snorkel. This would give me the feeling of what it would be like to do 8 lengths 'as a trial run'.


"Tell you what" she said, "when you get to eight, just keep going and see how many you do. It's not the real test, just a practice. Just have fun with it"


So off I go into the nearly deep end with Liam. I had to do the float over water too deep to stand up in and here was the first psychological barrier- what if I sank? Liam was a rescue diver and would be with me the whole time, so I felt safer having someone with me.


I breathed deep, "it helps to keep your lungs as full of air as you can" he suggested, helpfully. There was no trace of Liam the clown now- he was all support, all care, and absolutely brilliant with it.



Consigned to oblivion, i kicked off and raised my legs.


One of my wife's gems of advice- "clench your buttocks like you're dying to hold in what you normally do on the toilet"- came to mind. Then the legs rose, began to kick, my arms started to scull and my head leaned back.


Quietly, so only i could hear, i started.


"What light in yonder window breaks (breath) it is the sun, and Juliet is the...no, got that wrong...it is the east, and Juliet is the sun...(splash- water over face- keep going), arise fair sun, and kill the jealous moon...I think...for she is sick and pale with grief that thou, her maid, are far more fair than thee... (scull...breath... splash water...still going, concentrating on the words, Will, I love you mate, four hundred years dead and you're keeping me alive...)


"Be not her maid...her vestal raiment is but pale and green and none but fools do wear it...gasp...water...cast them off...sure I've forgotten a bit...gulp- water in mouth...breathe, calm, steady...breathe...got it...oh bugger, near the edge have to turn round...side paddle, side paddle, side paddle...back the other way...where was I? She is my lady, oh she is my love...gasp...oh would that she knew she were...


"She speaks, but says nothing...sure i've got that wrong too...gulp...breathe...what of it? Her eye holds discourse...I will answer...no...I am too bold...tis not to me she speaks... at the edge again, better turn round...side paddle, side paddle, hope no divers come up from beneath to put me off...right, let's go...breathe...steady...


"Two of the fairest stars in all the heavens...having some business, do entreat her eyes...to sparkle...no, you fool- not sparkle...to twinkle in their spheres till they return...would that they be her eyes...they in her head...I've got that wrong again...breathe...splash water in mouth...spray out, stay calm, breathe...just breathe...just breathe and... turn round again! Breathe... what was the last bit?


"See how her cheek rests upon her hand...Definitely missed a bit...sod it...would that I be a glove upon her hand...would that I could touch her cheek...okay, no-one tell Patrick Stuart or Jeremy Irons I just bolloxed up that one..."


And that's kind of how it went- not just once, but three times until I stole a look at the clock by raising my head and saw I had just three minutes to go. A fourth repetition followed and a gurgled voice cut through the waves mumbling something about "that's it" and Liam appeared beside me, guiding me back to the stand-up bit of the pool (like a true rescue diver- holding one of my arms to pull me even though I felt confident enough to do it on my own)


"That's it mate- eleven minutes" he said and I collapsed, exhausted. I'd done it- first test done, now the relaxing practice swim.

Actually, it was pretty relaxing.

Snorkelling is an acquired skill and I'd not been so much taught as 'picked it up' a few weeks earlier with Mick S. The snorkel pokes above the water line so you can breathe, and you grip the mouthpiece between your teeth and seal it with your gum's. Of course, if you relax, then water gets in and you have to clear your mouth by snorting the water up out of the top of the tube.

My arms went everywhere for the first ten meters till I settled on holding them in front of me- nope, not good enough- then switched to the small of my back. Very nonchalant, very relaxed, ambling along with leg kicks, trying to keep my head up and looking the way I was going instead of dipping down into the water. By doing this, I was able to keep the top of the snorkel well clear of the water's edge.

It didn't stop water coming into my mouth, though. But this time, unlike the disastrous episode on the surface having to take the BCD off and put it on again, i was able to clear the water straight away without panicking.

In short, I was becoming more comfortable in the water.

So the lengths progressed, and I passed eight...then ten.

Then I really relaxed into it, all pressure off, and did the next ten without any problems. I'd gone back to reciting the same Shakespearean soliloquy (try saying that quickly after ten pints- or two in my case)

Twenty turned to twenty five, and it wasn't long before I was signing to Liam that I was on number twenty seven.

Twenty seven? He signed back that he thought it was thirty two!

Either way, by my count I got tired and finished on thirty four (nearly forty by his count) and stopped. That was the practice, and I'd been back and forth over the deep end without much trepidation. A little nervous, but nothing major. Gripped by an insane bravery, I wanted to try something- so I had Liam swim down with me, and launched myself (unaided by fins, mask or snorkel, just one man against nature, a pair of goggles, speedo's, and a rib cage) into the deep end to swim the five meters distance to the wall.

Five meters, I hear you ask? Is that all?

Yes, that's all- but consider this- I had never, not once, ever in my life, swum on the surface out of my depth for mortal fear I would drown.

This was the very first time, and I didn't feel afraid.

Spurred on, I decided to do the swimming test for real! I would do this, I would conquer my fears, I would...

...do two and a half lengths and stop. I was tired, the voice in my head told me to stop, and I became afraid again.

Feeling pretty dejected, I climbed out of the water whilst listening to Liam tell Chris what happened.

"THIRTY FOUR????" her cheerful voice echoed across the pool, but I couldn't bring myself to look at her. I'd failed the actual swim test.

A few of the team came past and asked. One down, one to go I told them. Then after getting dressed I threw myself into helping to pack the van. What had started well ended in disaster. I had so very much wanted to beat that swim test, but couldn't. It was as if the wall of my fears rose up to defeat me, the demon in my own mind, the self doubt and fear overcame my drive to succeed.

Maybe I should be grateful I had gone this far. In all honesty, whilst I wasn't ready to give up, I was ready to walk away for the time being and work at this on my own, in my own pool, week after week. The swim test is supposed to be done as a "this week we'll get this out of the way" and the thought of coming back here week in week out to try and fail was more than I could bear. I couldn't face the other members of the club asking me on a weekly basis, "did you do it this time? Never mind. Maybe next week".

I could see it all. Maybe I was driving myself too hard, and I know Rome wasn't built in a day, but I let despair take hold and consigned myself to passing, sometime, maybe.

I also wanted to walk away because the club was about diving and having fun, and I didn't want them to have to put up with me for endless weeks trying and failing to do my swim test. I didn't want to get in their way. They're doing other stuff in the water and it wasn't fair to have a bloke try and swim above them, giving them another obstacle to contend with.

I know this sounds defeatist, and I'm not normally like this, but at that time, the world did indeed seem at its darkest.

We got back to the dive club / shop and Zoe collared me in the car park. Cheerful and supportive as ever.

"How did you do?" she asked, so I told her. Float passed, swim failed after two and a half lengths and a practice run of thirty four with mask / fins / snorkel. She looked confused.

"Thirty four with snorkel and fins? That means you've passed..."

...Hang on a minute- "no" I said slowly, "the swim test is eight lengths and I couldn't do it"

"Eight lengths normal" she said, "but twenty four with mask and fins..."

We got into the shop and Chris appeared. "That's a point, guys" she said, "what's the definition of a PADI swim test?"

"Eight lengths non stop" said Mick R, "or twenty four in mask, snorkel and fins"

"...and as Simon did thirty four?" Chris queried, trying (and failing) to keep the smile off her face.
"He's passed with flying colours" said Mick R, joining the grin.

Something dropped out of my stomach- shock, probably- and a strange contraction hit my facial muscles. I suddenly couldn't stop smiling.

"...what?" was about as much as I could muster. All three of them were grinning at me- they had set me up, good and proper, pulled the rug out from underneath me. I'd been tricked into doing a 'practice' swim and told to "keep going" by Chris, full in the knowledge that they intended me to pass.

Chris admitted later on she wasn't going to tell me because I was working myself up so much I wouldn't have done it if I'd known I was going to do the test that night.

More of them came in- I don't know how many were in on this, but they all seemed to know. Liam was grinning his head off- he was under instruction to 'not let me stop' and get me through this one way or the other, and all he did was swim to one side and let me do all the work.

Chris had found a way to trick me, to get me to do the test without realising I'd done it and all within the international rules set down by PADI. This was the last hurdle- I had maybe four more skills to do in the pool and certainly had more practice to come (mask changing skills for certain) but this, the swim test, was the last great challenge.

And I'd passed it with flying colours.

Enthusiasm builds

Okay, so bear with me.

Enthusiasm originally meant inspiration or possession by a divine spirit or by the presence of a God. In current English vernacular the word simply means intense enjoyment, interest or approval.

Enthusiasm for something also comes when you know you can do it. When the veneer of failure, of doubt and disappointment becomes stripped away and is replaced by a self belief, a knowledge that whatever happens you have it in your power to affect your life, to accomplish things you never thought you'd be able to do.

For this, I have a number of people to thank.

I was very quiet this week in the car. A part of the open water course lies in the study of the coursework presented either on dvd or in the form of a book with five chapters, each with knowledge reviews. I turned up that night with Chris to be told (by her) that I would sit my exam and get it out of the way.

Er, I hadn't finished revising yet?

Doesn't matter, she said- get it done anyway. She believed I could do it and it's a bit hard to say "no" to her when she's in that supportive frame of mind (she believes in you so much you doubt your own doubt and start to believe in yourself- which is a pretty good trait for an instructor!). Luckily I scored 45 out of 50 and with a score of 90% I passed the knowledge side. The only remaining point of fear and lay with the swim test, but more on that another time.

On the way to the pool Chris came in for an unwelcome piece of news- too many students, not enough teachers. She was preparing the scuba instructor course for Zoe, Mick T, Mick S and Balders (and I think two others) so this left me without an instructor for the night. We arrived, I got changed, and upon emerging was given a strange piece of news.

"I'm going to use you as a guinea pig tonight" Chris told me, "in the instructor course, they're not allowed to teach students so we have to take it in turns to pretend to be a student. For that reason, tonight, as we're short of instructors, you are going to be the guinea pig student for the entire group- there will be eight of us in the water, all rescue trained, so you'll be quite safe. I'll tell them to teach you a skill and grade them appropriately on how they do".

And that became the format. I had the most dedicated, professional, friendly and easy going bunch of senior dive instructors around me. Of course, Chris was teaching and grading them and not me, but it meant I could learn from each of them in turn.

First up, by my request, was the skill I'd so disastrously failed the week before- taking off and replacing the rig at the surface- and for this, she turned to Mick T.

Calm? Steady? You have no idea! This guy is incredible! From the word go, he showed me the same skill in such a straightforward, step by step fashion that when it came to my turn, the fear lessened. One of Mick T's phrases is "you learn at your own pace" and he could win awards his gentle, supportive, and evenly paced teaching style!

"Don't forget to kick like mad" Chris prompted from a short distance away. The straps came loose, the releases unclasped, and the inflated rig came off my right arm and straight underneath me. I was sat on the air cylinder and BCD in the pool and already was half way through. Sliding my arms into the straps was a little difficult but manageable and then it was up my back as I lay in the water, supported in buoyancy from underneath.

The BCD came onto my back, I fastened the releases, pulled the shoulder straps, and that was it- done, completed, and as Chris said later, I'd 'aced' the skill.

There it was- the smile- mine- the sign I'd made it and felt comfortable. Fear vanquished and all memory of failure gone- I'd beaten the fear and by not wanting to give up, conquered a little of my fear as well.

The rest of the lesson went well with me completing skills in the water as shown (although I did mess up the mask changing skill again! Kicked myself for that one, but huge thanks to Mick S for being the rock I anchored my confidence on and didn't bolt for the surface) and by the end of the lesson felt 100% better. More confident, more stable, just...better all round.

The list of people I had to thank? Every instructor there.

Damien kept a weather eye from the back, Mick R perched near a few times and watched them, Chris kept an eye on the learning instructors as well as myself, and those I was training with were brilliant.

Zoe has a very calm, methodical way of teaching.

Mick S is enthusiastic and very encouraging, and set me right when I cocked up.

For Mick T time is never an issue- and bestowing me the knowledge that I could proceed at my own time helped to banish the fear enormously.

Balders made it fun, and that also took away any trepidation.

Seriously, I know I'm plugging them, but from my point of view as a terrified non-swimmer, I was overcoming this fear with the help of these highly professional and extremely talented people week after week. I couldn't have been in safer hands.

Three days later I found a new source of encouragement, but this time in myself. Chris was running a rescue dive course in Eccleston Delph and invited me along to see what Shore cover was all about.

The Delph is a quarry filled with water and sunk with obstacles to train in. Boats, a plane, training platforms, and even a children's playground. I was put with Liam- the mad, young one I met on my try dive- Liam works with the shop and is there every pool session- he's sixteen or seventeen, over 6' tall, and does odd jobs around the place. He's permanently happy and with that has a fantastic way of calming anyone's nerves just by being himself. A bit like the rest of them, really.

Liam was showing another girl called Steph how to do Shore Cover so I watched over the shoulder to learn the basics. The principle is simple- you log in the details of the dive site, the member of the group with ultimate responsibility for the day (Chris), and the nearest hospital with dive recovery and treatment facilities (Murrayfield in Liverpool- it has a decompression chamber). Then you log in the names of the divers and check their starting air before the first dive.

With each dive you log depth, duration, and remaining air when they surface. Then you log the surface interval (the space between dives on the shore- used to deplete Nitrogen from the bloodstream, get lunch, have a brew, sleep, etc) and then record everything else for the second dive.

From what I could gather, the first part of the course (before lunch) had the three rescue students- Neil (good sense of humor), Craig- (talkative)- and Gareth- a great bloke with a quiet, wry, observational style of wit- doing rescues in the water by scenario. They weren't told what scenario they would be doing before they went in the water and had to locate and deal with any problems that arose.

The morning went well during which Chris tipped me off- "over lunch" she said, "I'm going for a dive with Liam and he's going to 'lose' me- this lot will come back from lunch to be told by Liam he has lost his buddy and they have to react appropriately. Hopefully, that means they'll scramble to find me and perform a rescue. I'm going to wait on the bottom somewhere. If they don't find me by the time I get low on air, I'm coming up and they'll fail"

Sure enough, over lunch she declares "I'm hot and going off for a dive" and disappears with Liam. By the time the rest return, Liam's surfacing and shouting out "I've lost my buddy".

Despite this being a training run and him shouting it in a quiet voice so only our group could hear, it didn't stop some other diver running for the emergency phone and being stopped by one of the group with an explanation of "Don't worry- its a diver rescue course- this is a simulation"

Apparently they had an over-enthusiastic guy the year before do the same thing- lose someone on purpose for this very reason- and shout it out so loud that half of Eccleston Delph came running! (They got it in the neck for that one!)

Gareth was straight out in snorkel and fins scanning for water bubbles and found Chris but couldn't confirm if it was her. The others, I think, were already in the water by that point and in the area. They had her up from her position in the playground and on shore soon enough but it was so shambolic they ended up running into the back edge of Mick R's tongue.

"What the bloody hell was that? Stop Mary-ing about and get back in the water! We're going again!"

Their overall response time was criticized at one point so Chris had them swim two widths of Eccleston Delph before the next test- something she's never had anyone do before- as punishment (with a smile, as she always does).

It was at this stage I was glad I was only an open water student and not anything higher! She's quite scary when she's cheerfully telling you off!

By the end of the day they had all passed. I'd browned in the sun, stood knee deep in the water with Steph for ages (it was the coolest place to be, apart from actually in the water, which I wasn't allowed to do) and even helped with a dive rescue by assisting when called upon by a scenario bringing a diver in.

Craig was playing dead for Jo, a divemaster student. She no-where near as big as Craig and asked for assistance getting him just out of the water as part of the scenario so when she called, I was three feet away. I've been a first aider for years so without stealing her thunder, I merely supported Craig's head from rocks beneath and helped to drag him to a stable position on the shoreline.

The whole day was absolutely brilliant! I wanted to dive in (despite not being able to swim very well) and enjoyed a nice kind of jealousy for them all in the water.

I wanted, more than anything, to join them at that point.

Enthusiasm was building. I felt I could make diving something personal to me, and I wasn't going to look back.

snakes and ladders

Things were definitely getting better.

Skills were improving, I was learning, and any dependency I had on Chris teaching me was fast disappearing. First with Mick S the week before, and now with Damien the week after.

I was climbing ladders.

Reefers and Wreckers has three fully qualified teachers- Mick R, Chris, and Damien- a permanently cheerful bloke with a great way of teaching groups. I arrived to be told by Chris I would be with Damien who was also teaching a young lad (I'll call him 'J') at a similar stage to myself.

Actually, J was further ahead. He was doing his dive exam when I arrived (something I had yet to do- the open water course has a written exam of fifty multi-choice questions that require a pass mark of 70%).

We hit the pool and I did the buddy check with J whilst Damien stood off- okay, so here's me, a (just on the lower side of) 40, learning with a 12-13 year old.

I don't have any ego to speak of so this wasn't hard- however, I was old enough to be his dad and it must have been strange for him to have an adult at the same stage of learning.

I've always been good with children- considering I hated them as a child and couldn't play with small children younger than my age at all- I grew into someone who loves children and has all the time in the world for them. It started with learning and later teaching Jiu-jitsu in my youth, progressed to Dragon Boat Racing (I was a nationally qualified coach and helm for two years and trained a lot of 'scratch' or amateur / charity teams), and finally worked with several childrens stage productions- whether directing the show, running the stage, props, etc.

Plus, I have two daughters (8 and 4 at the time of writing this blog)

So bonding with J wasn't hard (at least for me)- I found him to be quiet, studious, attentive and a little nervous (okay, Its like looking back in time at myself through a mirror! He even had dark hair like me!).

The lesson started really well. Fear? What fear. Even though I was a student, even though J was more advanced than I was (I told him he could take the lead on the skills because of this), I couldn't help keep an eye on him. That's just me. Diving might be considered an insular sport but lets face it- you have more fun diving with a buddy, and I automatically translated that into the thought process "your buddy is your first responsibility- after making sure you're safe yourself"

Bit like the principles of first aid:

principle one- do not become a casualty

principle two- give effective first aid

This applies to everything in life. In short, unless you take care of yourself- physically, mentally and emotionally, you can't 'do' what you need to do to be effective- in whatever it is. Riding a bike, doing your job, being a friend or a parent, or in this case, learning to dive.

So I spent the lesson watching out for J and enjoying it. Caring for someone else- not in a superior or sanctimonious way, but in a matter of fact, gentle, because you have to and you want to way- drove any thoughts of fear from my mind.

At one point (about 30 minutes in, we'd been under the water for around 20 minutes straight at this point- the longest I'd ever done in a single teaching session) I signaled to Damien that I couldn't see and wanted to clear my mask. It's nice to have the confidence to surface, clear the mask, and descend again to join in without any complications.

Up to this point, Damien watched both of us equally but had to spend more time with J than with me. It's one of those things- some people are slightly slower or find certain tasks slightly more problematic. I'd taken off my rig and replaced it on the floor at the deep end, done the same with the weight belt at the deep end, and done the weight belt at the surface (you hold it on your waist and roll into the slack, letting it naturally wind around your body- it's quite a cool skill when you think about it because you do it gracefully. Like so many skills, it becomes an aquatic ballet in the silence of your breath within the dance floor of crystal blue).

I'd become confident. I'd actually become complacent. Big mistake.

The final skill of the night was to take off the rig and put it on whilst at the surface. Damien had a little trouble showing us because the procedure is as follows:

Switch to snorkel, un-clip the releases, reduce slack on the shoulder straps, undo the waist belt so the rig is loose on your back, slide your left arm out, pull the rig around to your right, take the rig off your right arm, sit on it, allow the rig to slide up your back when your arms feel for the loops so as the rig slides up your back, it slides up your arms and onto your back. Pull shoulder straps, fasten releases, replace regulator.

Damien found a momentary problem sitting on his rig and it ended up in his right hand whilst he trod water before he pulled it beneath him. Stupidly, I thought that was the procedure- take it off, hold it to the right, then put it beneath you and finish the procedure.

So when I took the rig off (okay at first) and held it to the right, i sank. I'm negatively buoyant as we all know and didn't have the thrust to keep myself up. I went under beneath the level of my snorkel- water flooded the tube, I tried to clear it (the blow hard down the tube to snort the water out) and when I tried to breathe again, I was still beneath surface so water entered my mouth once more.

The flashback to my near-drowning at the age of seven didn't help. I was no more than 12" beneath the surface of the pool holding onto a rig that was dragging me down- I'd missed the instruction about 'inflating the BCD before you start this' so I was holding a weight in my right hand whilst trying to fight to the surface and breathe with my legs and left hand.

Somehow, I managed it. Barely clearing my mouth and trying to breathe in, going under again, forcing myself to clear my lungs and kick harder till I got my mouth on the surface again and gulped air. Water poured again into my mouth- this was my fear, and it was happening now.

I'd rolled badly on the dice. You can get as far on the board towards a 100 as you can, you can climb as many ladders as you land on, but it just takes one snake to send you back to the start.

I spotted the ledge- there, four feet beneath the lip of the deep end, running around the wall. Fighting, trying not to panic but doing it anyway, thrashing towards the edge dragging my rig. Sense should have told me to let go of the rig and let it float away, but it was part of the test- I had to get it back on and I wasn't parting with it for anything. It took around thirty seconds from the first sign of a problem, when the fear freezes your veins and turns your spine to ice, reason deserts your mind and all you can think of is trying to stay alive one second at a time.

I reached the wall panting, clutching the tiles, holding on with one hand and supporting my weight on the ledge with a fin. J had succeeded and was fine- but I wasn't.

I put the rig back on at the edge and with Damien's encouragement tried again but this time cramp denied me the chance of success. I finished the lesson, in my mind, a failure. Every skill bar the last one passed and this had nearly killed me. I couldn't help the thought- if I'd drowned, would I have been able to be resuscitated? The actual answer would be "it wouldn't have got that far" and even if I had swallowed water and drowned, the statistical chance of resuscitation would have been very high- but that didn't quell any fears.

Chris tried to be supportive- the truth was, she said, I'd run into difficulty and got myself out of it. When your mind is dark and fear closes the avenues of hope, you don't see the pragmatic. Yes, in hindsight, I had achieved something to be proud of- drawing success out of failure, life out of death, safety from danger, but I didn't see it. I'd even gone back for a second try until the cramp instead of quitting the pool there and then, which I suppose is also a noteworthy achievement- but again, I didn't think of that.

The other problem was i spent the rest of the evening in virtual silence, replaying the incident in my head and trying not to draw attention to myself- the rest of the crowd were having fun in the shop and they didn't need a negative person lowering the mood of the group. As soon as we got home I escaped the car as soon as I could.

Two days later I went into what could have been delayed shock. I'd been replaying the incident again and again in my head and the trouble with that is, you think the worst. You replay all the 'what if' moments and also have the 'what it it happens this Thursday coming'.

It's wrong, it's counter productive, and its also inviting the worse case scenario like a self fulfilling prophecy- but this is a life time of fear suddenly made real, and that's not easy to deal with.

But it's harder to walk away from. I wasn't going to give up- I felt sick, I couldn't eat, the smell of food made me retch, I was cold (blood drained from the extremities to protect the vital organs), and i was in bed for around 36 hours. If it wasn't delayed shock, it could have been the worst 36 hour virus I've had because I felt, literally, like dying.

But I was going through with this. If it killed me the following Thursday, then so be it- but I'd go trying. I couldn't walk away now. Was this bravery? Suicidal vertigo? idiocy? It was certainly fatalistic- but it was also hopeful- it was my way of dealing.

Is it too melodramatic to say "i nearly drowned" when I was in a pool with a dozen or more trained rescue divers all of whom could have administered CPR, oxygen, and saved my life?

One thing was sure- I may have failed that night in my mind, but it hadn't put me off diving.

And you know that snake I slid down? I realised it didn't go as far down the board as I first thought.

building blocks

First session out of the way and boy, did I mess up on the mask changing skills!

Un-deterred but pretty angry with myself, the next lesson went a lot smoother. I had Chris and Ralph again and this time every skill I was taught was accomplished first time- not bad for a guy afraid of water.

At this point, the "positive thinking" people might say "stop thinking of the bad things- be grateful for the achievements!" (Chris herself holds a masters qualification in Neuro-linguistic programming which I believe she did to assist in teaching 'problematic' or 'difficult' scuba students)

You'll find them in the thesaurus under 'terrified', by the way.

I've spoken to others about this kind of thing in the past. Sadly, their attitude has been remarkably similar. Here's the example.

"I'm scared" says the student.

"There's no need to be- let me help show you how to scuba dive" says the helpful instructor.

"Wow" says the student, "that was easy! Thanks for showing me! I'm no longer scared, thanks to your easy to follow methods and teachings!"

Wouldn't it be great if life was actually like that? Sadly, it isn't. We don't live in a world of TV adverts where the brand name t-shirt wearing person invades your home with a cheery smile, shows you the carpet cleaner, and you never look back from that day on. Conquering any negative thought from mild apprehension to outright fear is difficult and a long process.

Rome wasn't built in a day, as several of the teaching staff have told me on several times.

Okay, maybe I am being a bit too negative- everyone around me tries the "wow! look how well you've done! That's really great! You've come a long way in just a few weeks!" and really, whilst I am genuinely grateful for the support, a voice in the back of my head keeps saying "yes, but I'm still afraid"

Am I normally pessimistic in nature? Believe it or not, no- I'm usually very optimistic. But when facing a life long terror of the dark wet stuff, and coupled with this a fear of failing the entire course has now also arisen, I have to admit to myself that this isn't easy.

But its not impossible.

For that reason I keep turning up, keep going, and keep swimming- and enjoy the moments when they come. I even tried work at home. After my disastrous show at the mask changing, I started filling the bowl in my bathroom full of lukewarm water and immersing my face to see if I could open my eyes.

Half an hour later, I did. It seems silly- I know a lot of people who can swim far better than me but won't open their eyes underwater. It feels wrong for them, uncomfortable, even scary- but that's one aspect of the water I have no fear of. I needed to do this for lesson three, anyway. The dreaded 'no mask swim' was looming, and I attended that night with a bad case of rattlers in the stomach.

Lesson three brought another departure from the pattern so far. Chris was concerned I was turning her into a psychological anchor and wouldn't dive with anyone else- so on the night I got my rig prepared, loaded up, and at literally the last minute she produced Mick S and said "off you go boys- have fun".

And I did! Mick S was doing his dive instructor course so he's not as experienced as Chris, but he is excellent in his style. Calm, down to earth (in water? That's original!) He reviewed a number of skills I'd done with Chris and Ralph, and then took me for new skills including one I'd been dreading.

Remember my almost failure at the mask changing? Now I had to do it again, but swim across the width of the pool in a 'no mask swim' and put the mask on at the end. First time- not bad. Undeterred, I did my usual request to do it again for my own satisfaction and second time produced (in Mick's words) a 'belter' of a skill qualification.

At that point a flash bulb went off. Or was it my smile? Couldn't tell for sure- it was one or the other. Major skill, lots of trepidation, and I beat it! Whilst I'm not going to delve into the sort of Michael Bay movie fist thumping and male bonding rituals of Hollywood actions movies (I am English, after all- and we don't do that sort of thing), I did feel an exhilaration that flooded my spine...Or was that the water dripping down the inside of my BCD?...and didn't stop grinning until the end of the lesson.

This un-reachable target was now becoming achievable.

A few skills remained to learn and I would take them on in due course, but one final, great hurdle awaited me.

The swim test.

Before I was allowed to do my open water dives (for real) I would have to do two aspects of a swim test.
1- float for 10 minutes on my back or tread water for the same
2- do a continuous 200m (8 lengths of the pool) swim

Me being me, I've never swum 200 meters in my life and the thought of doing the swim test is...more than a little un-nerving. However, in my strength, I'd conquered some of the hair-raising tests on the course so far, I kept going back, never once wanted to quit, and was determined to do it if it killed me (okay, that's a bad analogy)

I began to search for encouragement in other blogs and articles on the net. Someone, somewhere, must have advice about the swim test for the open water course! Sure enough, I found a reference in one man's description of his experiences. Eagerly, I speed-read his article until I found the section on the swim test and it said....

"Of course, you HAVE to be able to swim to learn to scuba dive! There's really no point at all learning to dive if you can't swim! I mean, being able to swim like a brick will get you to the bottom, it just won't get you back up again- HA HA HA..."

...thanks. Really. That's great. Very encouraging. I felt gutted, as if the odds were once again stacked against me.

But I wasn't about to quit. No matter how many set backs, I've never quit yet.

I'd been building on success after success, conquering fear and difficult (for me) skills, and I wasn't about to give up now. Despite everything, this was my ambition, my plan to not only enjoy scuba diving (did I just use the 'enjoy' word?) and conquer my fear.

And it was working!

Open water course- part one

Every now and then, you hit a precipice...

Flushed with success, the open water dive course awaited me.

...and like the anchor that sinks to the bottom, I had that 'here we go again' feeling the night Chris dropped by with the contents of the course. A zip up bag containing pamphlets, a dive log book (to record your dives), a PADI open water dive book to be read and worked through (knowledge reviews at the end of each chapter), and an electronic dive planner- this is NOT a dive computer- it looks like a large calculator but take this thing in water and it's going to go fizz..crackle...and stop working.

The book is well written in an easy to follow style with a good way of teaching the reader- it asks you periodically to look for information within the text and highlight it with a yellow marker. It's a bit like doing homework but a lot more fun!

This was my start to the open water course.

With equal measures of fear and enthusiasm, I approached the book, skim read a bit, but didn't really do much until Chris smacked me on the leg for being indolent a few weeks later. Spurred on by the physical encouragement (is that what they call it these days?), I started to read...

...then came the first lesson. After a reasonably uneventful drive I ended up pulling into the dive shop once again to be told "don't think you're sitting around- off you go to the school room" (she says it like a school teacher, too!)

My gentle introduction to the course began with one of the most relaxed groups of teachers I have ever come across. Three Micks (S is laid back, R is senior and second only to Chris I think, and T owns the shop and has the best poker face I've seen in years), Balders (friendly), Damien (cheerful) and Zoe (encouraging). Mick S took me for lesson one and whether by accident or design gave me a multi choice questionnaire to fill out without my having read any of the book, which was a bit of a shock. For a mock test, I still passed (to my surprise)

We hit the poolside. Chris was teaching a Divemaster course (after open water comes advanced open water, then master scuba diver, and then Divemaster) and part of the course seemed to revolve around assisting students- so Chris was taking me in the water with the help of a great guy called Ralph. Once the equipment was put together and buddy check complete, it was time to enter the pool with a method known as a ' boat entry' or 'giant stride'. In this vertigo-inducing skill, you step off into the deep end having inflated your BCD first so you don't sink.

Okay, here comes the fear again. The giant stride entry is tantamount to stepping out of a perfectly working airplane with a parachute on- except there's no slipstream, no drop, and no parachute. Okay, maybe this is a bad analogy, but for me it was like that. Ralph went in, signalled the way was clear, I stood there with my hands securing my loose equipment...

...and nothing,

"Put more air in your BCD" Chris told me. Okay- I was ready, I was willing...I was stood there still not leaping in.

Fear is more than just an overwhelming precipice: it's more accurate to say that it is made up of the sum of its parts. I found that night that fear isn't just a question of saying "I'm scared of water- all of it- in its entirety". The actual truth was that I was scared of different aspects of water. Leaping into the void and trusting my equipment to keep me floating was a bigger deal than I realized. I counted down, breathing steadily through the regulator all the time, and I still hadn't stepped off the edge of the pool.

"Just think of it like jumping from an airplane" Chris said, helpfully. That clinched it. One nervous step forwards and gravity took over- too late to back out as I splashed down into the water and came up more than a little apprehensive. my breathing must have been fast, or unsteady, because the next minute Chris was in with me and had me inflate the BCD fully. On her order I spent five minutes lying on my back just breathing...nothing more- just breathing- in order to regain my confidence. I was lying there, I wasn't going anywhere- I was quite safe.

Thus began the skill tests. I'd managed the first one on the try dive- taking the regulator out of my mouth, continuously exhaling a stream of bubbles, and putting it back in again. Now the skills became more involved, and there are too many to go into here and I'll probably get the sequence wrong, but I'll try and describe some of the skills I learned. Signaling out of air and breathing from an alternate air source were easier than I thought, as was snorkeling whilst changing from regulator to snorkel, but the bane of my life came with the mask clearing drills.

This is the theory- at some point you may lose your mask, have to replace it, and so on. These drills are designed to help a diver clear their mask whilst submerged. Some divers open their eyes whilst doing this. In my current state, that wasn't an option.

Clearing a half filled mask- pull back, fill to below the eyes, push the top rim into your head, look down, exhale through your nose whilst tilting head back and the air pushes the water out.

First one, easy.

Clearing a full mask- repeat as before- more difficult, but still do-able.

Taking the mask off. Okay, this was a 'fill your mask then take it off' skill- and boy, did I come apart in this one! As soon as the mask was off, I breathed in water through my nose. Cue panic, thrashing, and instant surface. Luckily I was at the shallow end.

Breathe. Calm. Slow the heart rate. You can do this- all things going through my mind. With the mask on, I went again.

And failed.

By the fourth failure I was getting angry. Surfacing in a panic, striking the water and saying "Again" so quickly I was ready to go back down there and re-engage this particular skill that eluded me. I got so angry that Chris actually stopped me and said that I wasn't in the right frame of mind- just calm, breathe, and go again in a few seconds.

After about the seventh or eighth time, I finally did it. One large overdue smile and I knew this could be done- but success wasn't enough. I wanted to do it again, immediately, to prove to myself I could do this.

Time was running out in the evening and I had only just passed this skill but one more test remained- flood the mask, take it off, and breathe from a regulator for thirty seconds without a mask.

First time- mask off, lost it. Spluttering, fearful, nervous- was there any way I was going to be able to do this? Every time I tried to breathe, water flooded my nose. I suppose I'm so used to yoga that breathing through the nose was a natural instinct. Just as with the mask replacement, keeping the air out long enough for that test was manageable, but breathing for thirty seconds?

Chris took me up even as I snorted water- it's a nice touch if your dive instructors recognize you're about to breathe liquid before you actually do. Standing in the shallow end, she had me lean into the water and try breathing without a mask from that position. After a few attempts, I finally did it- just by clenching the nostrils, I could shut out the water.

Back down to the test. Less fear and more determination now- this was different. Fear of drowning and failure was being overtaken by a determination to succeed, to take this skill and conquer it...

And on the second attempt, it worked. Chris and Ralph were all smiles and handshakes but inside I didn't feel it. The lesson was harder than I realized, more challenging and difficult than I could have believed. Another problem with fear lies in the levels to which we drive ourselves to conquer it. Sometimes, only perfection will do and falling short of a perfect success erodes our confidence with the awful thought of "yes, I did it, but I could have done better"

Even worse, I hadn't enjoyed the lesson. It was a lot of hard work, and whilst I was still going to continue, I beat myself all the way home with a very large mental stick.

If I was going to beat this fear, I would have to work harder. Even as part of me knew that was the wrong attitude to take, it was what I felt- it was part of me. A set back within a leap forward. A self appointed challenge to be beaten.

The try dive- part two

That's it on the right. The pool. Place of my dread, (though not any more) and my first try dive.

I last left you (picture if you will) watching me stood chest deep in water (I'm 5'11" so it comes to just around my rib cage) wearing everything to go diving in. Everyone else is in cool black wet suits or shorties (that's a one piece wet suit that goes from t-shirt length to mid thigh- keep you warm in the water, but they're a bugger to get off!) and I'm in a big thick t shirt and shorts.

So much for appearance, but I'm not doing this to win any fashion awards.

"never hold your breath" she says, and I'm not. Breathing through the regulator (the black mouthpiece on the BCD) is strange at first- the air is normal 'air', that standard 21% / 79% mix of oxygen and nitrogen we breathe every day of our lives.

The air is also dry, and cool. It's just like breathing normally. Another weird phrase- breathing normally. I'm about to dunk my head under the water and do what I've never been able to do in my life- breathe down there.

First test- bending over (don't get any ideas of innuendo) and putting my face into the water whilst breathing through the regulator.

This is strange, turbulent, and noisy. All I can hear is my own breathe bubbling out past me from the regulator and a steady stream of bubbles coming out the bottom. i can hear my own breath like I'm watching a bad science fiction movie with a guy in the space suit and they put the sound of his breathing over the soundtrack to incite tension.

At this moment, I don't need any more tension than I'm already getting!

I get a friendly "well done" from Chris and a hand shake- this proves to be the standard method of congratulations- a well done and a hand shake. if you do well, you get two hand shakes- a normal "english gentleman" one, and a "thumb to thumb" one to follow.

"Now we're going to kneel down and submerge our heads in the water" she says. I get the briefing about the signal to submerge (thumb down- its exactly like the signal used by Roman emperors of old to indicate the imminent death of a gladiator and... I'll stop now, because you know where my psyche was going with this!) and we go beneath the water.

The water is blue. It colors the white tiled floor, the walls, and everything in it. Descending beneath that surface for the first time, Chris has got hold of a shoulder strap on my BCD (I reckoned afterwards it was to hoike me up in case I panicked), and I was kneeling- fighting to get my balance because believe me, for a first time it's not easy- on the bottom of the pool with the water inches above my head.

I could do this. i could breathe. I could live. I could do what i had dreamed of doing, looked on in slight envy (not nasty envy, but the good natured kind) of others who do this thing all the time.

I was breathing, the stream of bubbles extending upwards to bounce on the surface of the water inches above me.

Then, in the middle of this, the fear hit. What if I swallowed water? What if I took the regulator out of my mouth? Like a man with vertigo perched on the edge of a building with the insane notion to leap into the void, what if I did the same thing in the pool? What if....

Fingers clicked under my gaze. Once, twice, a third time and they drew my attention upwards.

Chris has eyes you can lose yourself in. They held me and wouldn't let me go at that point. She's known me for around sixteen years and apart from my own wife, I very much doubt there's another person alive who knows me quite so well. She also knows what I do when I get scared and at that point she wasn't prepared to let me go into silent panic.

Afterwards she told me that on a rescue diver course (I think) they talk about silent panic- when someone goes internal and unresponsive instead of thrashing around. The treatment is to engage them and not let them get catatonic.

"Look at me" she said. Actually, as we were underwater, she didn't say it; but that was her gesture- in her hands, and in her eyes- "look-at-me"

And so I did- my breathing calmed, the noise steadied from an incoherent rumble of air exhaled through a regulator to a repetitive bass line, a percussion rattle of exhalation within the otherwise silent world of blue.

And then I noticed something else.

Beyond her, I could see the surface of the pool. Blue water, back lit by orange sodium lamps hanging on the ceiling- each a distorted globe through the ripples making currency of golden air bubbles upon the shifting surface.

In that moment my fear lost the battle to wonder.

Fear has to be conquered in steps. From standing, to kneeling, next came lying down. Imagine my surprise to find myself lying prone on the surface, breathing normally- still a little raggedly, but normally just the same.

She batted her hands like paddles and pointed to a corner- would I like to go for a swim? In a moment of acceptance I nodded- and in that too lies the path to overcoming fear- simple acceptance.

Acceptance you can breathe, that the equipment will keep you alive, and the person with you will stay with you all the time and not let anything happen to you. Once round the shallow end and my trepidation rose but this time, it fell just as fast. Twin sides of the same coin fought for dominance- I was breathing- but what if I swallowed water? But why should I? But what if I did? But I'm not going to.

I thought about panicking. I actually did- but you know what? I couldn't be bothered.

It's that simple. I just couldn't be bothered to feel afraid. Fear takes a small amount (or a large amount) of effort. I was alive with wonder at the thought that here's me, afraid since the age of seven, and I'm swimming underwater with a regulator. Maybe not happily, but certainly not panicking or fearful either. I was doing this!!!

We stopped at the edge of the slope to the 3m deep end. The purpose of the try dive is to 'try diving'- simple, really. It's all part of the PADI system (professional institute of diving instructors- they have other acronyms- one of Chris' is "Pay and Dive instantly", which she should charge money for) and the try dive is designed to get you into the water and experiencing the world of scuba diving.

Which is precisely what I was doing.

Looking over the edge, the vertigo came but this time in a different way- no desire to drown, to pluck the regulator out or fill my lungs with fluid- instead, I wanted to dive off- to jump in, to be down there with a yearning that filled me- I'd been scared of the deep end for too long and now, here, was a chance to go into that deep end and feel it.

And you know what they say about fear? Experience it, face it, overcome it- so I did.

We slid down the gradient to the deep end so I felt safe, equalizing the air spaces within my head by clenching my nose and blowing gently. Once down there, Chris had me doing hand stands (the cylinder banged into the back of my skull on that one!) and a barrel roll.

Exhilaration began to take over, fear began to depart, and although my trepidation would still remain, anxiety would still remain- even fear itself would still remain, I had made steps- strides, even- in just one night.

Back up to the shallows, standing up in the water, and taking the regulator out. The try dive was over, and you know what? I didn't get one gentleman's hand shake, I didn't just get the thumb grip as well- I got a huge hug and a beaming grin from this woman who dragged, cajoled, guided, gently pressurized, lead, and supported me into that pool and to the depths that night. She never let me quit, she knew I could do this, and she was right.

I'd had so much support from the rest of the dive school- instructors and members alike- from the moment I arrived to the debrief afterward (a beer and a Donner-pizza- surely the most bizarre recipe for a pizza I'd ever heard of!). Zoe, Balders, Damien, Mick, Mick, and Mick to name but a few (there's a lot of Mick's in this school-change your name if you're thinking of going diving because it seems to be the name of choice).

Fear can be beaten. I proved it to myself, but it has to be said that fear itself is like life. It's a road, a journey- sometimes the road is straight, sometimes it turns and things come at you out of the shadows. Sometimes you can deal with it, sometimes you can't.

It's not to be scoffed at, or ignored, but nor is it to be allowed to flourish, to dominate you to the point where it rules your actions and commands your thoughts. A little fear is a good thing because overconfidence is a weakness, but too much fear stagnates the soul.

I've met many instructors in this dive school on that night. I've come to know them since and they all have their own style. They have many things in common- professionalism, care, support, ability, and talent. Their attitude to fear is also something they all share- "you'll get through it", "we'll get you through it", "take things at your own speed", "relax and trust me", "you'll be alright" and "I'm not going to let you drown":- all phrases I've heard, and all phrases that, despite my anxiety, I'm happy to say have proven my fear wrong- the instructors were right every time.

They have helped with my fear so much that I recognized the road ahead. They helped me more than they know, but ultimately the road through conquering fear is one we all have to walk alone- however, allowing others to help is an important step. There is no false modesty here, no bravado, no arrogance- sometimes you need people with you to show you the way. Sometimes they know that's what they are doing, and sometimes they just act that way because that's how they 'are'.

So after all this, am I cured from my fear of water?

Nope. I'm still afraid- but the point is this- for one night I overcame my fear, and now the fear is slightly lessened than it was before.

Because as a result of the support shown by the diving team at that club, as a result of the gentle support and strength Chris lent me, and because of my own determination to not give in, I've signed up for the open water course. This will qualify me to dive to 18m when I pass.

Conquering your fear is a journey. This one started that night. Some people travel the world and remain themselves, some travel and find they are staring at the same person at the end of the journey as they were at the beginning.

I traveled further in one night by driving up the road, putting on the scuba gear, and going in the water.

and guess what?

I'm still traveling.....

The try dive

The Try dive was at a pool in Lancashire.

The...Try ..Dive...

You'd be surprised how much fear those three words instilled in me!

However, I was determined, I was driven (literally- as Chris was behind the wheel I couldn't exactly leap out of the car on the M6!), and I was committed.

What do you take on a try dive? Yourself, would be the obvious answer. Clothes...towel...re-check the clothes...re-check the towel...re-check the- oh stuff it! Let's get on with this!

Chris picked me up from home and I went to her car like an aristocrat to the guillotine. The hung head, the steady plod to your place of execution... okay, I'm being over-dramatic, but this is thirty something years of condensed fear I'm coming to terms with in one night.

At what stage does fear kick in? It comes and goes in waves (again with the diving analogies), sometimes spreading from one location and sometimes hitting you all at once- usually that sick feeling in the stomach that churns and denies you food. You know you haven't eaten and you don't actually want to.

Anyone else would say "good for you for getting that far"- my attitude was far simpler- I wasn't going to think about it in the car- I was going to deal with the fear only, and only when I got into the water. The car wasn't going to hold any fear for me at all. The journey would be fine, it would be calm, it would be...

"If you keep hyperventilating" Chris said in her usual, patient, matter-of-fact voice as we pulled off the M6, "you'll be starving yourself of oxygen and using the dead air in your windpipe. By the time we get to the pool at nine o'clock- that's three hours away- you'll be in a right state"

Why does she have to discuss it with the same, maddeningly calm voice she might use to discuss what she was doing that evening, what soup she'd like, or what to channel to watch on the television?

I actually reckon this is her plan to deal with my fear- complete, total, under-whelmed response to my gibbering wreck in the car seat alongside.

The drive, an inexorable hour and a bit, ended at the dive shop (the club is run out of it by a guy called Mick) and at this stage I was quite prepared to be dumped and ignored, and rightly so. Chris is the senior instructor and she would have far more important instructor-organizational things to deal with than babysit someone like me- but I ended up talking to a couple of lunatics outside by the names of Gareth and Liam who addressed this fear-mountain of mine with classic northern humor- "what's the worst that could happen? You drown. Well, you'll only do that the once!" (thank-you, Liam!)

Try dives are supposed to be done in groups. Four, five, eight- I've really no idea how many you can have on a try dive, but Chris told me she was taking me solo for the night because she's proficient at dealing with reluctant divers (reluctant? That's in the Thesaurus for terrified, isn't it?)- apparently, she was being diplomatic (typical Chris word)

Pool side- first mistake- I thought I was being helpful in offloading the van only to be told afterward that someone had complained- as a try dive student I'm not allowed to handle any gear.

Cue kicking myself again.

Here's the plan for a standard try dive- you get a briefing by the poolside (that was okay), you are shown how they fit the air cylinder into the strap at the back of the BCD (Buoyancy control device- the jacket all divers wear- you look like someone from the movies for real, instead of in your imagination), and put the bits together. Air tank in the BCD, first and second stage regulator on the air tank, strap it into the BCD, lock the air hose into the BCD (you can inflate the jacket / BCD from the air tank which helps you stay on the surface without having to kick your legs too much- and let air out. It's vital for assisting in descending and ascending in the water), and collect the obligatory snorkel, mask and fins.

I'd worn as BCD once before. Chris gave me an orientation night at home a couple of weeks earlier. She'd turned up with her rig (slang term for everything she goes diving with), showed me how to put it together, and invited me to try it on / try it out- in the kitchen sink (because she couldn't fit the sink into her diving gear, we went to the sink instead of taking the sink with us)

It was at this stage Chris first met my fear. She's in the calm of my living room, showing me the BCD, the compressed air cylinder, the first and second stage regulator...and I'm displaying my usual signs. First, I go quiet. Second, I go quieter. Third, I talk in a really quiet voice because that's all I can manage until finally, she invites me to have a go.

So I'm stood there in my kitchen- t shirt, jeans, bare feet for traction and my slippers would be a health hazard, BCD et al and she fills the basin with cold water and invites me to stick my head in and breathe through the regulator.

On the first breath, water goes straight up my nose and I panicked. Yes, I'm stood there, safe in my own kitchen, leaning into a bowl of water, and I lost it.

Remember that fear thing I mentioned in a previous blog? Imagine the scariest thing you know and put yourself mentally in that place- that dark, scary, uncomfortable place where you have to confront it- and that was me.

Daft, isn't it? (stood up in my own kitchen and getting scared! I ask you! Hardly the stuff of action hero's, is it?)

You know how it is- you've been doing this since you first entered the world. About ten breaths a minute, six hundred an hour, fourteen thousand and four hundred a day, 5,256,000 a year....

We never stop to think how we breathe- we just do- so when someone says "stick your head in this basin of lukewarm water and breathe in" you're not exactly going to think about closing your nose off, are you? I finally managed this by holding my nostrils shut with my hands and then, only then, could I breathe- which resulted in a huge sigh of relief when (skip forward to try dive) I put a mask on and found it compressed my nostrils! YAY!! I didn't have to breathe through my nose at all!!!!

That was so much easier!

After the scuba mask came the fins (I have big feet, so you'd wonder why I bother. Size 11's mean I can use my own feet as fins- but I still took a pair of rubber fins because they were given to me for the duration. I've been told that calling them 'flippers' invites all kinds of forfeits ranging from smacked legs to being made to walk the plank...(or equivalent)

Finally, I was given a weight belt.

Okay, this is wierd. Here's negatively buoyant me, and they're giving me something to help me sink??? does that seem strange to you? That's like giving an anvil to a parachutist saying "well, you wanted to go down!"

Gearing up is covered in briefing, and then its time to put it on in the water- I believe some put this on at the pool side, but Chris tossed both sets into the pool at the shallow end and helped me get into it once in a standing position in the water. The rest of the dive club were about their business at the far end, and we had the shallow end pretty much to ourselves.

There I was, stood up, in flippers, shorts, t shirt, BCD, scuba mask, snorkel (wasn't using that yet!) and she gives me the golden rule of scuba diving.

Never, ever hold your breath. Holding the breath causes problems (or potential problems) when descending or ascending. Confined air spaces (ie: air in your lungs) compress and expand when under the pressure of a sub-sea environment so holding your breath isn't good.

Chris pointed out that it all came back to that simple thing we'd been doing since childhood. Breathe normally, she said- just breathe...

I was there, I was ready, it was time to go.

(part two in a minute)