I did my Cave 2 class last August in Florida, and got repeatedly slammed for poor situational awareness. I knew a part of it was narcosis, but I thought CO2 intoxication from depth and exertion, coupled with sleep deprivation and generally poor morale, had a big role to play.
Last weekend, I did three very relaxed and pleasant dives in the Mill Pond. One was in Twin, where our plan was to swim the mainline, going down the fissure, swimming the loop, and coming back up and going home. I was comfortable with the plan -- I had dived that portion of the cave in class, so I knew it. But we also agreed to do a short jump into a small passage, to get the experience of swimming something small and having to return in zero viz, something I had never done.
So we went in, swam the Subway tunnel, went down the slot, and swam to the double arrows. At this point, the leader tied in a spool, and we jumped off to a small passage on the right. We swam it, turned around and came back in zero viz (that's another whole thread) and returned to the mainline. We turned right and continued along the line to the other fissure, went up, and swam back. Uneventful and enjoyable dive, and pretty cave.
The next day, my husband commented on the fact that I had not dropped a cookie at the intersection where the leader tied in the jump line. I felt like somebody had slapped me. I have, from the moment I began doing jumps, been the "cookie Nazi"; not only do I drop a cookie on every intersection, I insist that every team member do so. I have never forgotten to do this; I have never had to be reminded. I've never had to THINK about it, because it's obvious and one of the deeply ingrained procedures I believe in and practice always. And I didn't do it, and didn't know I hadn't done it, and didn't recognize I hadn't done it when we came back to the main line, and didn't realize I hadn't done it until the next day, when Peter idly inquired about why I hadn't. (He hadn't signaled me, because he knew it didn't MATTER which way we turned -- going right was shorter to get home, and we knew that; going left was the way we had come, and since we hadn't hit turn pressure, that was fine, too. I wish I could say I went through the same thought process, but I didn't go through any thought process at all.)
I didn't feel drunk. I didn't feel anxious. I wasn't obsessively checking my pressure, nor was I euphoric. I didn't feel any different at all. I was just stupid.
No more 100 foot depths in caves for me, without helium. And I think everybody should think about how sneaky nitrogen can be -- it isn't that you are woozy or can't read your gauge. It's about the little things, the important things that can be the difference between safety and risk in a cave. Don't dismiss nitrogen!


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