These are not new certification rules or a replacement for professional training. What follows are simply practices, habits and observations that helped me become a calmer, more efficient and observant tropical diver.
Why I Dive This Way
After more than twenty years of scuba diving, I noticed that many of the things that make a dive enjoyable are small things. They are not always about equipment or technical ability, but often about preparation, calmness, awareness and respect for the marine environment.
Conditions, training, health, equipment and dive plans differ but every diver must remain within current certification limits, follow the divemaster or instructor, and use sound judgment. Without changing that requirement, these are some of the things that have served me well.
My goal is to become one with the environment, not an addition to it.
I prefer equipment that protects me, reduces distraction and lets me move comfortably through warm tropical water. The best equipment is not necessarily the most complicated. It is the equipment I understand, maintain and can use without having to think about it throughout the dive.
Head covering: In tropical waters I wear a Lycra swim cap partly for warmth, but mostly to protect my ears. For some reason, I seem to attract the tiny stinging remnants of jellyfish shredded by boat propellers. It almost feels as though they know I have returned and shout, "He's back!"
Long exposure suit: Even in tropical water, I prefer a long suit because it protects my lower legs and skin from scrapes, stings and accidental contact.
Dive socks: My suit leaves my ankles exposed, so I pull on a pair of socks to cover them. They also make my full-foot fins more comfortable over consecutive days of diving.
Full-foot fins: For warm-water boat diving, I use full-foot fins. I find that their range of ankle movement lets me use a compact foot-sculling action for much of the dive. This reduces exertion, limits bottom disturbance and leaves the larger muscles of my hips and legs available when I truly need more power.
Snorkel when conditions call for it: I always keep a snorkel in my dive bag for rough surface conditions or a possible surface swim. It may not be needed on every dive, but I like having it available when the water decides otherwise.
Two computers: I use an air-integrated primary computer and carry a backup that remains with me throughout the same dives. Redundancy preserves depth, time and decompression information if one display fails. Any decision to continue diving after a failure must still follow current training and the manufacturers' instructions for both computers.
Nitrox when appropriate: I am certified to use Nitrox and often choose it when it suits the planned dive. I analyze the cylinder, confirm the oxygen percentage and understand the maximum operating depth for that particular mixture. I find that the reduced nitrogen exposure can leave me feeling fresher over a day of repetitive diving, but the correct depth limit comes from the analyzed mix - not from a single rule that applies to every cylinder.
Weighting for the first dive of a holiday
When my gear has been stored for a long time, it can be unusually dry and buoyant. I may need a little more weight on the first dive or two, then reduce it as the gear becomes fully saturated. Over the next few days I perform proper buoyancy checks and make small adjustments rather than assuming that yesterday's weighting will always be correct. This is simply my experience, not a fixed formula for everyone.
Every piece of equipment should remove a distraction. I would rather spend my attention looking into a coral head than thinking about a loose hose, an uncomfortable fin or something I forgot on the boat.
I want to discover a missing or poorly secured item before entering the water, not after. A short, consistent ritual reduces last-minute confusion and lets me begin the dive calmly.
Mask ready and positioned where it cannot be forgotten or damaged.
Snorkel available when surface conditions make it useful.
Fins ready and placed appropriately for the planned gear-up and entry.
BCD secured and all releases, clips and straps checked.
Weights correct, balanced and securely fastened.
Gas supply checked and cylinder valve confirmed open.
I take two controlled breaths from my regulator while watching the pressure display. A noticeable pressure drop during inhalation may indicate that the valve is not fully open or that something requires attention.
Camera equipment ready, arranged and securely clipped for entry.
I listen carefully to the divemaster's briefing so I understand the planned depth, current, route, signals and exit procedure.
I wait for the boat captain or crew to confirm that it is safe to enter - what I like to think of as "the pool is open."
The dive begins before I enter the water. Preparation is part of buoyancy, breathing and awareness.
The first few seconds are not a race to descend. I use them to settle myself, confirm that everything feels right and make sure the entry area is clear for the next diver.
Orient myself and confirm that I am comfortable and clear of the boat and propeller area.
Move away from the entry point so the next diver can enter safely.
Signal the boat with a clear "OK," or ask for help rather than trying to solve a problem silently.
Check my mask, regulator, camera and other equipment.
Locate the divemaster and prepare for descent without rushing.
A calm entry gives me a calm beginning. Nothing is gained by arriving underwater before I am ready to be there.
A calm descent sets the tone for the dive. I want to remain close enough to the group to follow the plan while equalizing early, watching my depth and avoiding an uncontrolled arrival at the bottom.
Keep the divemaster in sight.
Breathe normally rather than rushing or over-breathing. I discovered years ago that I sometimes breathed faster during descent without realizing it. Calming myself early conserves gas and lets the dive begin more comfortably.
Equalize gently, early and often, and stop the descent if equalization is uncomfortable.
Watch my depth and become aware of the bottom before reaching it. I like knowing where I am in the water column before I need to know.
Adjust buoyancy as needed and arrive near the group without landing on the reef or sand.
I enjoy being near the front of the group, just behind the divemaster. In a swim-through, the visibility is usually clearer before several divers have had the chance to disturb the bottom. I never move ahead of the guide or enter a route that has not been approved, and I try to be courteous without crowding the divers around me.
Photographers can become absorbed in a subject and lose awareness of the group. I make a deliberate habit of looking up, locating the divemaster and checking the direction of travel. This is especially important in current, where a short distraction can create considerable separation.
I follow the divemaster and watch what is being pointed out, but I also keep scanning the reef with my own eyes. Staying close to the plan means I can spend less attention worrying about navigation and more attention noticing what the reef is doing.
The goal is never to touch, chase or rearrange an animal for a photograph. A picture is not worth changing the behaviour that made the encounter special in the first place.
Over the years, I have learned that I rarely need a large kick. For ordinary movement in warm water, I often use a compact sculling action with my full-foot fins, generated mainly at the ankles.
The movement is small but surprisingly effective. It requires less effort than repeatedly kicking from the hips and knees, helps keep my body streamlined, reduces my gas use and lowers the chance of stirring sand or silt into the path of the divers behind me.
When the situation calls for more power - perhaps against current or when I need to move quickly - I use fuller fin strokes. I have needed them only occasionally during recent years of tropical diving. The point is not to avoid strong kicks completely, but to use only as much movement as the situation requires.
A calm diver does not need to fight the water. Small movements, used well, can accomplish a great deal.
I keep hoses, gauges, clips and camera equipment close to my body. Every loose item creates drag, competes for attention and introduces another opportunity to contact the reef or snag inside a narrow passage.
If something does catch, I stop moving, breathe and think the problem through. Pulling harder can turn a simple snag into a more difficult one.
Before entering a confined passage, I consider the width and height, the position of my cylinder and fins, how I will hold my camera, and whether the diver ahead has enough space. Sometimes the best decision is simply to wait.
Currents can be light or strong, and they can change direction during a dive. A streamlined position makes swimming into current easier. At other times, I may pause in a protected position while the group catches up rather than wasting energy fighting the water. The bottom and the walls are never flat and smooth. Their rugged surfaces impede and slow currents. If the current becomes a concern, divers can move close to the bottom or walls without touching them and find weaker flow.
The water usually offers a quieter solution when I stop trying to overpower it.
I glance at my computer and pressure display every few minutes. I am not checking because I expect a problem. I am checking so that gas supply, depth, no-decompression time and ascent information never become a surprise.
My surface reserve is part of the dive plan, not whatever happens to remain at the end. I plan to surface with adequate gas for buoyancy and unexpected surface conditions, and I follow the agreed turn pressure and reserve established during the briefing.
On deeper recreational dives, I enjoy levelling off at intermediate depths because Cozumel often has plenty to see there. I never go deeper merely for the sake of depth. I prefer to remain no deeper than necessary for the purpose of the dive and, on deeper dives, generally position myself shallower than the divemaster.
Any pause, safety stop or deeper stop must remain consistent with current training, the dive computer, the gas supply, the divemaster's plan and the conditions of that particular dive.
The final ascent should always be slow and controlled. I vent expanding gas from the BCD as needed, monitor my ascent rate and complete the required or recommended safety stop.
Depth is not the achievement. Returning calmly, with the plan completed and something meaningful observed, is what makes the dive successful.
Breathing efficiently is not a competition. The purpose is not to prove that I can make a cylinder last longer than someone else's. Calm breathing is the result of being relaxed, properly weighted, neutrally buoyant and comfortable with the dive.
If concerned: Stop. Breathe. Then think. Act - do not react.
I breathe continuously and never intentionally hold my breath while scuba diving. I allow each inhalation and exhalation to remain slow and comfortable. A relaxed rhythm helps me avoid rapid, shallow breathing and unnecessary exertion.
I may notice a brief, natural pause as one part of the breathing cycle ends and the next begins, but I do not use skip-breathing or deliberate breath holding to save gas. A diver can rise in the water column without immediately noticing it, especially in current or while distracted, which is one reason continuous breathing matters.
If I am working hard, anxious or feeling short of breath, I reduce effort and stop when it is safe to do so. I restore a normal breathing rhythm and communicate with my buddy or guide when needed.
Good gas consumption comes from the whole dive: trim, buoyancy, fitness, warmth, familiarity with equipment, efficient movement and a calm state of mind.
Calm divers often dive longer and see more. As soon as I reach the depth where the planned dive path begins, I establish horizontal trim and neutral buoyancy without touching the bottom.
Once neutral, small changes in lung volume can produce small changes in position. A slightly fuller inhalation may lift me gently; a relaxed exhalation may allow me to settle. These are minor adjustments, not a substitute for correct weighting and BCD control.
If the dive becomes deeper, compression may require a small addition of gas to the BCD. During ascent, expanding gas must be vented to avoid an uncontrolled rise. After each meaningful depth change, I reassess rather than continuously adding and dumping large amounts of gas.
Constant inflator use wastes gas, increases task loading and makes the dive feel unsettled. My goal is to make a deliberate correction, confirm the result and then return my attention to the reef.
My goal is to become one with the environment, not an addition to it.
Equipment, breathing, buoyancy and finning are not the destination. They are the skills that remove distractions. When I no longer have to struggle with depth, trim or movement, I am free to notice the reef.
I look into crevices, beneath ledges and across open water. I watch the behaviour of fish rather than immediately swimming toward them. I give animals room to decide whether an encounter happens.
I have watched turtles resume feeding after I stopped approaching them. I have seen eagle rays appear from the blue when no one was chasing them. Often, the encounter becomes better at the moment I stop trying to make it happen.
The best moments frequently come after I stop moving. A hidden fish becomes visible. A turtle returns to what it was doing. An eagle ray circles back. The reef is not empty while I wait. It is revealing itself.
The reef rewards the diver who slows down long enough to see it.
These ideas have developed gradually through years of tropical diving. They are not meant to replace professional instruction or suggest that there is only one correct way to dive. They are simply the habits that help me feel calm, prepared and connected to the underwater world.
I still learn something on every dive. Sometimes it is about my equipment or technique. More often, it is about patience, awareness and the value of allowing the reef to set the pace.
The measure of a good dive is not depth, time or gas remaining. It is whether I followed the plan, respected the reef, looked after the people around me and returned having noticed something I might once have passed by.
