Originally Posted by Paladin954
I pulled this one over from another thread I posted on:
(It happened in the summer of 1978. The equipment consisted of a Healthways steel 72, Aqua-Lung Aquarius reg, White Stag Deep SPG, USD Atlantis mask, USD Otarie fins, 5 pounds on a USD weight belt, USD diver's knife. I had just bought the Aquarius and this was my first dive with a single hose reg.)
One year, when I was just a kid, my family went to Tennessee for vacation. While we were there, we visited Tuckaleechee (sp?) Caverns. From that time on, I was fascinated by caves. By the time I reached my early twenties, I had spent thousands of hours exploring underground and crawling through some pretty tight places. I even became a member of the Tri-State Search and Rescue Team, specializing in cave rescue.
So, when my friend and I discovered a cave in the rock wall of a man-made lake where we were diving (I'm not going to say where because I don't want to tempt anyone), we decided to check it out.
Yeah, I know. We were young and stupid. I should've known better.
Anyway, Fuzz led the way and I followed him into the cave. The passage was tight and Fuzz kicked up the sediment to the point where I couldn't see squat. I groped along behind him, hands out in front, trying to keep up. Then, I suddenly found myself in clear water and Fuzz was nowhere in sight. I switched off my light to see if I could detect his light. Nada. Black as Hades. At that moment, I felt my tank grate against the ceiling for an instant, then come free.
I realized that I must have taken a side passage and was separated from Fuzz. I started to back out, but couldn't. I was stuck. My tank was lodged in a depression in the ceiling and I couldn't move. My first thought was to simply unbuckle my harness and slip out from under the tank, then pull it out of the cave after me, but the passage was too tight and I couldn't get my hand down to my waist to release the buckle. I thought about cutting the harness away at the shoulders but my knife was strapped to my leg, out reach.
Out of options, all I could do was watch the needle of my SPG as my air slowly ran out. I thought about my parents and my girlfriend. I thought about how stupid I was and I wondered how long it would be before someone found my body.
At 500 psi, my J valve started honking its low air warning. At 300 psi it would cut off and I couldn't reach the rod to turn on the reserve. Panic was about to set in when I felt something moving along my left leg. It moved up to my waist and I felt a tug at my harness buckle. Then, something grabbed my ankles and yanked me backward and free. I pulled my tank after me and followed Fuzz back out to open water. On the way, I had to open the reserve. When we were back on the boat, I had this overwhelming urge to give ugly ol' Fuzz a kiss. I settled for a hug and a handshake.
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