Late one afternoon, I received a phone call from a friend - we'll call him Bob - I had made many cave dives with. He asked me if I was interested in diving tomorrow - he would be arriving in cave country around noon. I told him I would be there, and I had a new site for us to dive.

We met at the agreed upon time, filled our tanks, and discussed the dive plan. It was a location that Bob had never been to, but I had made several dives there recently. The system is extensive, and most of the tunnels are very large. There are many sinkholes that afford access to this system, but we were limited to entry from two of them.

We chose the site we would enter, and planned the dive based on a rough sketch I made. The plan was a double stage on our DPV's to get us to the destination tunnel. We were both in sidemount configuration, and had made several dives together in the same configuration recently.

We entered with no problems, and scootered to our destination. We dropped our first stage at thirds, and the DPV's and our second stage with 2500psi(of 3100psi to start) at the entrance to the sidemount tunnel. There is no marking on the primary line to designate the jump, so I placed a line arrow on the line and tied off a spare safety reel I brought with me with 250' of line on it. The jump requires about 200' of line. We entered the sidemount tunnel with 3600psi in each sidemount cylinder. Depth at this point was about 55ft.

Everything during the intial penetration of this tunnel went normally. I had been there several times recently so I knew the layout of the tunnel and where the line went. This tunnel has no flow, is extremely silty, about 18 inches high in many areas(no taller than 36 inches high anywhere), and anywhere from 10 to 75 feet wide. After penetrating the sidemount tunnel for almost 30 minutes, the picture perfect dive went wrong. We had been doing the ceiling knuckle walk to keep this tunnel clean as we penetrated. I looked back for the first time in almost 10 minutes, and saw that the visibility behind us was zero. I don't know if I was silting, if Bob was silting, or if we both were. I made a conscious effort to look back every minute or so for the next 5 minutes to make sure that I was not silting with poor technique. I noticed that the vis was still pretty close to zero behind us. It was at that point that I realized the tunnel was less than 12 inches high from ceiling to silt, and we were trashing the vis. I had been here before, and it did not seem as low then as it does now. Ok, no big deal, it gets larger 100ft up ahead and we can hang on the ceiling and allow the vis to clear for a few minutes before we head out. I decide to turn the dive in another 100ft where this occurs. 2900psi.

After having been here several times, I know where the line runs. It often dips into the silt, but re-emerges within 10-15ft. The vis ahead of us is 60-80ft. Behind us, zero. The cave is about 60ft wide at this particular spot.

I look ahead to see the line suspended about 2 inches above the silt for as far as I can see. Nice, tight, and straight. The line is very old, so we avoid touching it.

Suddenly, I notice that the line ahead is laying in the silt, where it had not been just one week prior. Then I notice that the line under my right shoulder is in the silt, where it had not been 10 seconds prior. I look behind me, and see Bob...and I can barely make it out, but he is apparently reeling something in from behind him. Oh my god, it's the line. He has reached the end. Somehow one of us broke the line, and Bob, in a confused state, reeled it in and was now holding the end of the line in his hand. Below him lay well over 100ft of line. Behind us, the visibility is zero. My HID penetrates no more than 1" behind Bob.

I tell myself to relax. I have 2900psi, and I know this tunnel. No big deal, we'll just wait until the vis clears a bit then do a lost line search. I'm suddenly afraid. I signal Bob to follow me. We proceed another 50ft to the larger area and pin ourselves on the ceiling. I pull out my wetnotes, and tell Bob to relax and wait here. I check his gas - 2600psi in one bottle, 2800 in the other. Bob looks scared, but I'm sure he is nowhere near as scared as I am. I take my safety spool out, and loop the end of the line through one of his D rings. I write him a note to stay put while I search for the exit end of the line. He does not respond. He just stares at me with a blank look on his face.

Just as I think he is completely out of it, Bob checks his SPG's and switches regs. OK, he's fine...just scared. I hope my fear isn't as obvious. I turn around, and stare at the wall of silt for a moment, then press on. I spend an eternity slowly moving forward, inch by inch, searching for the line. I reach the end of my spool. Nothing. The line has got to be here somewhere. I reel in my line until I see the glow of Bob's HID, then I start all over.

This time I sweep side to side in the tunnel, hand 6 inches below the top of the silt, trying to find the line. Nothing. Now I'm terrified. For the first time(and only time so far), I think I am going to die in a cave. I imagine my body being removed in a grotesque state. I come back to reality, and have no idea how long I have been in that state.

I check my SPG's. 2400psi in one, 2600 in the other. It hasn't been long. I resume the search.

It seems as if I have been searching for hours on end. I can't see my bottom timer to see exactly how long I have been looking. I can't see my SPG's. I have no idea how much gas have, or where I am. I only know the other end of the line is attached to the other body I will be discovered with......eventually. I am terrified. People say that when you realize you are going to die, you come to peace with everything. They are dead wrong. I feel nothing but stark terror. The occasional thought of my family flashes through my mind, but mostly just horrible thoughts of how bad it will be to suffocate in this tiny, horrible place.

I feel something in the silt. I cannot see it, so I don't know what it is. I try to pull it close to my face, but I meet resistance. I don't try to force it. I put both hands on it. It's a line arrow...and there's a line with it. I don't recall seeing any line arrows in here, but I tie my line into it and follow it. I get to an area where the vis is about 10ft, and I recognize it - I'm in the same tunnel we came in through. I can't believe it - I found the line. I return via zero vis to find Bob.

I come out of the zero vis, and see bob 25ft ahead. He is in the same place I left him. I check my bottom timer, it has been over 30 minutes. I have 1500psi left in each tank. I rush to Bob. I cut the line off my safety spool, and tie it to the other end of the broken line. Bob has 400psi in one tank, 2600 in the other. I hand him his other reg, and write a note. "I found the way out. Follow the line. Be careful". He seems to understand.

He begins swimming toward the exit. I follow. After what seems like an eternity, I emerge out of the sidemount tunnel. Bob is nowhere to be found. His scooter and stage are gone. I shield my light, and see the glow from his about 100ft away, toward the exit. I grab my stage in one hand, clip into my scooter, dial the speed to 9, and go. I try to clip my stage off, but cannot. I clip it to my scooter ring, open the valve, and grab the reg.

I'm gaining on Bob. I finally catch up with him and stop him. I ask if he is ok, and he returns the signal, but I know he is not. We continue on the way out. Bob blows past our first stages without slowing down. We have enough gas without them, I'm not leaving him alone.....nor do I want to be alone.

After what seemed an eternity, I spot my primary reel. Bob spots it too. He heads straight for it, and heads up the line at a very rapid speed. I show no mandatory deco time on my computer, but I stop at 15' anyways. I begin to reflect on what has happened, but decide I better not think about it until after surfacing.

I spend 5 minutes there, and then surface. Bob is there, waiting. He apologizes for what happened, and how he reacted. I tell him it's not necessary. At that time, I did not remember half of what happened. We shuck our gear and climb out, placing our gear just outside the sink. We walk to our cars, and Bob grabs a cigarette. I don't smoke, but I ask for one. We both smoke several, without saying a word. We move our gear without saying a word. We agree to meet at a specific restaurant to eat and talk. We eat, but say only a few words. We say goodbye, and each of us head home.

I talked to a good friend of mine that night that I have done many dives with. I told him what I remembered - which, at the time, was only about half. He told me I had to get back in the water immediately, I said no. He called me each day for the next 3 days, and finally convinced me it was time. We re-entered the system this occured in two days later, with the intention of retrieving the remaining stages. After an uneventful dive, we return...and I feel so much better. Before today, I was afraid to dive again, but now I know that this incident was an isolated one.

I have still not been back to the particular section of the cave this occured in. I don't know if I will ever return there. Bob does not dive anymore. I still dive often, but I dive much more conservatively.