The above picture proves how advanced a diver I am. Cue the sarcasm beers.

I’m by no stretch of the imagination a master of scuba diving. I’ve been at it for a little bit, but I don’t dive as much as I would like (well who does?). Diving locally means cold green water with low viz and depressed fishes. It has some appeal, but it wears thin quickly. Scuba in the Caribbean has spoiled me. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still getting the goose fat ready for my face for a short dive trip later this year, but given the choice? Less dry suit and more rash guard. Believe it or not, I’ve met some people who preferred the contrary. No accounting for tastes yeah?

Perhaps because of the way our society is set up and my own lack of wisdom, I tend to make some assumptions. Higher certification level? Better diver. Rebreather and mixed gas? Better diver. Sidemount and helmet lights? Better diver. In truth, different diver is really the only appropriate call. It’s easy, and I’m quite guilty of this, to get fooled by and sucked into the specialized gear-certification-status-symbol-vanity thing.

Recently I met two older gentlemen divers. Coincidentally both named Bob and both open water divers, just basic, no advanced no nothing. I remember seeing their certification levels on the boat roster and thinking these guys must be new divers or once in awhile divers. We would probably have to dive above 60 feet that day.

I was quite wrong.

Turns out both had several thousands of dives under their weight belts, and they knew more about diving than I’ll find in the pile of manuals I have at home. It wasn’t just technical knowledge either, it was the way they dove, and the fact they had done it all over the world. It was experience, lot’s of it.

So I just called them sir.

The Bobs have been part of the scuba diving world/industry in one way or another for the last 40 years. The kind of guys that can school you about diving, its history, and the crazy people they’ve met, while distractedly chewing the fat over beers and not even realizing it. “Once Bob Meistrell… Did you know that Cousteau… And then the J valve…”

It wasn’t just the diving lore or knowing the scientific names for all the fishes (yay Latin!) encountered during the dive. It was about their actual diving as well. I’m a reasonably fit and relaxed guy, but these gentlemen seemed like they barely breathed once underwater. Their trim was effortless and perfect, the kind you acquire from repeated, repeated practice. Underwater they were calm with a capital C.

This got me  to reevaluate how I think of myself as a diver, and also what I want to do as a diver.

Of course some certifications are important, even just plain life saving/crucial. To encourage people to explore wrecks or caves without the proper instruction is to reserve a spot in hell. So I’m not bashing the certification structure or technical diving, not at all. If you want to dive with nitrox, you have to take the class. If you want to exceed no deco limits, you need the classes. The question is simply what do you want to do in your diving? What makes you happiest?

I want to dive. Just dive. I want more time in the (preferably warm) water and if possible in many different places. I want more experience. So even though I had a knee jerk yes reaction recently, when offered to join a specialized class, I’ve since reconsidered. That (substantial) money is going towards the next trip (not the goose fat one).

The original point of this post was a self reminder not to judge a diver by his or her certification card. However another point emerged of its own volition (or so it seems), which is to remember why and how you want to dive and to pursue that, without being swayed by scuba bling. Not the secret wisdom of the ages but there you go.

I hope to see you under the waves.