I’ve been scuba diving for a few years now. Initially, I dived quite actively, but after moving north, my participation has decreased drastically to about 10-15 dives per year, only during annual scuba diving camp. Cold water isn’t my forte, which limits my opportunities further.
This year, my entire cycling trip was planned around scuba diving in Croatia. After the last three days out of 15 of cycling in Croatia, the fourth, extra one, was a short one just to break the 2200 km mark with only 18 km. It’s always delightful to have a short pedal around the island, enjoying the beautiful views and navigating the smallest streets and stairs. The first day is usually reserved for travel, unpacking, and preparing for the first day of diving, so nothing grand happens.
On the second day of camp, the excitement of the first dive day is palpable, at least for me. Assembling equipment, loading the boat, and taking the first boat ride to the dive location. The first dive, after a year, always brings a bit of positive stress, wondering if everything will go smoothly and if I’ll remember all the necessary procedures. It went well, akin to riding a bike, though the dive was somewhat dull and shallow. However, it didn’t take long for tranquility to be disrupted. During the second dive, a minor mask adjustment led to the mask filling with water rapidly. After several unsuccessful attempts to clear it, I realized it wasn’t just an adjustment issue. Struggling to see and signal with a full mask is never fun, but the issue was quickly resolved when the dive guide handed me a spare mask, and the dive continued. While it’s always good to practice diving exercises, I prefer to avoid them. The slight adjustment damaged the mask a bit and made a hole that were water was pouring in from.
I wished the second day was as successful as the first, but not all stars align. Fatigued from a late return and an early start, I’ve come to recognize the signs of a challenging day ahead. Taking a backup mask to return the spare to the dive guide proved to be a slight mistake. On the first dive of the day, the mask started filling with water immediately, having a mustache complicates sealing the mask, which was the root of the problem. Not having taken my mask on the road trip was a decision I regretted. Struggling to clear and reposition it while battling a current and being pulled under the boat, I tried to switch to another guide’s backup mask. Eventually, I surfaced to adjust it. Unsure if the issue was resolved and feeling my heart and breathing rates increase, I decided to end my dive and let the others continue. Given the exhaustion and rough start, I skipped the second dive.
On the third day, with a reliable mask, I was confident nothing could go wrong. The first dive was confusing as we looked for a site that seemed different from the previous year. Thankfully, I wasn’t the only one confused, and a debriefing later cleared up the misunderstanding when we realized the location wasn’t the one we thought it was. The second dive’s location was correctly identified, and it was a beautiful site to explore. We even spotted a charonia, which was amazing. The dive ended quickly until we exited a cave and saw rough surface conditions. Deciding to dive back in and navigate to a calmer cove was like undertaking a second dive, lasting an additional 35 minutes as we searched for the boat. Sharing regulators and nearly depleting our air tanks was a bit too close for comfort. This is precisely why one should never dive alone.
The group dinner that evening was perfect, with good food and some bocce, turning the day’s earlier frustrations into a pleasant evening. The fifth day is usually a rest day, a time to desaturate, either exploring or resting. I usually dont opt for rest, but this time, I think it is a correct decision, it will help with preparing for three more eventful days ahead.
I’ve been flirting with the ocean depths for a few years now. Originally, I was quite the aqua aficionado, but a move up north turned my diving days sparse, dwindling to a mere 10-15 annual plunges during our scuba camp. Let’s just say, chilly waters and I aren’t the best of buddies, which further cramps my style.
This year, I schemed an entire cycling tour around a scuba soiree in Croatia. After three days pedaling across Croatia, day four was a victory lap to crest the 2200 km mark with a breezy 18 km ride. There’s nothing quite like a leisurely cycle on the island, soaking up stunning views and threading through its tiniest streets and staircases. Day one is always about the mundane, travel, unpack, and gear up for the underwater ballet to come.
By day two, you could cut the dive-day anticipation with a knife. Rigging up gear, loading the boat, and setting sail to our dive spot was all part of the thrill. The first dive of the year always spikes my adrenaline, leaving me to wonder if my dive reflexes are still sharp. It went smoothly, thankfully akin to, well, riding a bike, even if the dive itself was a tad bland and shallow. But peace was short-lived. On second dive, a minor tweak in my mask turned into an emergency flood situation. After a few fruitless fix-it flails, I was handed a spare mask by the dive guide, and peace was restored underwater. Though handy, I’d rather not practice emergency drills, especially when a slight adjustment turns my mask into a sieve.
Hoping day two’s dives would mirror the first’s success was wishful thinking. Dragging from a late return and an early start, I braced for a bumpy ride. Swapping back to a different mask, after returning the borrowed one, was a flop. My trusty mustache thwarted a good seal, and there I was, fighting off more water than a sinking ship. A swift mask swap mid-current felt more like extreme sports than a leisurely dive. I surfaced, adjusted, and called it quits for the day, letting the others carry on without me.
Day three dawned with a mask I could trust, setting the stage for a fault-free dive. But even the best-laid plans can go awry. Our first dive was a bit of a head-scratcher as we hunted for a site that seemed to have pulled a disappearing act from last year. Post-dive, a debrief revealed we had been at the wrong spot. Luckily, the second dive nailed the location, revealing a spectacular scene, complete with a charonia sighting, a true highlight. The dive wrapped up as we dodged rough surface conditions, ducking back under to find a serene spot, turning what should have been a simple exit into an impromptu adventure, complete with shared air and a frantic search for our boat. Never dive solo, folks – it’s not just a slogan.
The evening’s group dinner hit the spot, delicious food and a round of bocce flipped the day’s earlier fiascos into fond memories. Day five is slated as a rest day, a chance to off-gas and relax. Typically, I’m not one to sit still, but this time, I’m taking it. A bit of downtime might just be what I need to gear up for three more days of underwater escapades.
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