after my debacle at Blue Spring (see Fist Time Around the Blog,

08/02/05), you'd think i'd get a clue and take some cavern training.

    obviously, you don't know the idiocy that lurks in the human heart.

    no.  instead, i decided to take a trip with a local dive shop down to

Crystal River, Florida, and to dive a small cave there on my own,

with no backup air-source, no line, and only a small light.  (it was

only after taking my cavern class that i realized what a complete

idiot i had been, and how lucky i was to be alive.  never again).

   the cave in question is the source for the sping known as King's

Spring.  this is actually a rather pretty safe cave, if proper precautions

are taken.  i didn't do that.  i just went in, on my own, knowing

nothing about overhead diving. 

   the cave feels small.  you can see daylight pretty much from any

part of the main room (there's a large entrace  to the right and a smaller

one to the left (looking out)), down to a depth of about 50 feet.

  i tooddled around, looking at this, that, having a blast. then, i saw this

opening that sort of wound around the left (smaller) exit.  i figured i'd

see where it went.

  up i go into the tight passage, kicking up silt with my fins.  after a

few seconds, i could barely see anything around me.  well... why stop

now? i figured... might as well know where it goes.

   where it went was up, away from the silty bottom (good thing, right?),

getting smaller and smaller, tighter and tigther all the time.  up ahead, i

could see a narrow glimmer of light.  there was a passage

to the surface up ahead.  as i got closer, i could see that it was like a

very narrow window, looking out to the beauty of Crystal River's

clear waters, rocks, and plants.

    however, the "window" was too small to get through.  perhaps

a very small child might manage it, but it would be tight.  it would

be impossible for an adult to squeeze through, even without equipment.

     after a few seconds of gazing at the image, i decided it was time to

turn around.  frankly, the passage was so tight at this point that i was

getting claustrophobic.  for some reason, it finally dawned on me: you

are in a small, silty cave, you have no training, and you don't know what

you're doing.  it's time to go home.

    ok... so back i turned.

    well... i tried to turn.

    i couldn't turn.  i was stuck.

    i tried turning to my left.  no good.  something was tugging at

me and wouldn't let me turn.

    i tried turning to my right.  no good, the wall was too close and i

couldn't turn.  i had to push myself off to the left and then turn to the right.

    so... i tried pushing myself off to the left and then turn to the right.

    no good.  something was pinning me in place.

    and then, of course, the brown stuff hit the fan.

    not necessarily in this order, the following thoughts

entered my mind:

   1. i am going to die

   2. i deserve to die

   3. how will i explain this to my wife?

   4. slight relief that i wouldn't have to explain

       being dead to my wife, since i'd be dead

   5. i am an idiot

   6. i still have air left

   that "pause, breathe, think" thing works.  that's just what i did.  after

a few breaths, i started to work out just where i was stuck.  it appeard

to be somewhere over my shoulder, behind me.  when i tugged, it tugged back.

   a look down at my octopus holder (the old-fashioned kind, the ball

thing you stick the mouthpiece into), revealed to me that it was empty.

and if my octopus holder was empty... that meant... my octopus was ...

dangling free behind me.

octopus holder.  mine was yellow

     well, not exactly dangling free behind me.  it was stuck on

something, and i couldn't budge it.  it was pinning me in place.

     i found the octopus hose and traced it back with my right hand.

the hose went into a crack in the rock too small for my hand to follow.

   dear god

   immediately, i thought about cutting the hose (good thing i had

a knife!) but then... reality hit... i can't cut through a steel-reinforced

hose with a dive-knife... and even if i did.. would i be able to make it

back before all the air ran out of the tank?  anyway, it was a moot point.

i couldn't cut the hose.

   i moved back a little, and felt the hose move.  i tried lifting it

(keep in mind the hose was behind my back; i couldn't see what

i was doing, and i couldn't turn around to look).  but i had felt the

hose give a little.  back i pushed myself, and up i pulled on the hose.

again.  and then, the hose came out of the crack and the regulator

was freed.  i could move again.

   i wish i could say i had some amazing revelation, that the meaning

of life was laid bare before me, that i repented of all my transgressions

against humanity and the animal, vegetable, and mineral kingdoms, but

that didn't happen.

   i skiddadled out of there, made it through the silt i had stirred

earlier, and came up to the surface very, very, very, very

happy to be alive.

   and right there, i made a solemn vow that i would never enter

an overhead situtation again without proper training.  i did get

that training (so far cavern and cave 1 classes), and only then did

i understand how stupid i had been and how lucky i was to

live to talk about my stupidity.

   my lesson from this incident: you don't know what you don't

know about caves until you get training, and what you don't know

about caves can kill you.