En gammal självupplevd incident från 2016
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Jag hittade en återgivning från en incident jag var involverad i 2016 i mina gömmor och tänker att jag någon kanske kan ha någon nytta av den. Då för tio år sedan skämdes jag för mycket för att berätta om det och det gick såpass långt att jag översatte det hela till engelska efter att jag under en sen kväll nära inpå händelsen skrev av mig för att rensa skallen lite. Platsen var Öninge dykplats i Vättern. Håll till godo o dyk säkert:
Disaster, a Lost Dive Light, and a Ring
Sunday. Beautiful weather. A local freshwater dive site.
It sounded like the perfect day for diving.
I had some diving experience under my belt and was looking forward to showing my partner, XXXX, one of my favorite dive sites. She had recently completed her Open Water certification and had already done a couple of successful dives. We were joined by a dive buddy, and everything felt relaxed and routine.
Most divers know that some sites can change dramatically from shallow, forgiving terrain to steep drop-offs with very little warning. Looking back, that’s where the chain of events began.
I had always assumed that the greatest risk for a new diver was an uncontrolled ascent. I never seriously considered the opposite—an uncontrolled descent that could quickly turn into a life-threatening emergency.
Not even in my darkest thoughts had I imagined that we might not make it home.
We entered from an easy shoreline entry with a gentle bottom and good footing. Conditions were calm. XXXX was working on her buoyancy, and we slowly made our way deeper.
At first everything seemed normal.
We exchanged OK signals and continued the dive. What I failed to appreciate was how quickly the terrain dropped away beneath us. Before long, we found ourselves near the limits recommended for newly certified divers.
That should have been our cue to turn the dive.
Instead, we continued.
A little later I noticed that something was wrong. XXXX was having difficulty controlling the air in her suit. As we ascended slightly, expanding air increased her buoyancy and accelerated the ascent. I tried to help her regain control and slow things down.
Then panic entered the equation.
Panic is not a sign of weakness. It can affect anyone. Experience helps divers recognize and manage stressful situations, but XXXX had only recently completed her certification and was still building that experience.
What happened next unfolded incredibly fast.
When I vented air from her suit to regain control, too much buoyancy was lost. She attempted to inflate her BCD but struggled to locate the controls under stress. Suddenly we were no longer rising.
We were sinking.
Fast.
I held onto her and tried to restore buoyancy while maintaining control of my own equipment. Letting go wasn’t an option. Every second mattered.
Eventually we came to rest on an underwater ledge.
Then XXXX signaled that she was out of air.
The realization hit me immediately: a situation that had begun as a buoyancy problem had escalated into an air emergency.
I gave her my alternate regulator and tried to calm the situation. Through a cloud of bubbles, we looked at each other. I knew that staying calm was now our greatest asset.
At that moment our dive buddy appeared.
He had followed our bubbles and eventually found us. Seeing him was one of the greatest reliefs I have ever experienced.
Together we began making our way toward the surface.
He led. XXXX stayed in the middle. I remained close behind, focused on one thing only: making sure we all reached the surface together.
Nothing else mattered.
When we finally surfaced, we established positive buoyancy and slowly made our way back to shore.
Only then did I look at my pressure gauge and realize just how little air remained.
The drive home was quiet.
Later that evening, sitting on the couch, the reality of what had happened finally caught up with me. The adrenaline faded and was replaced by a simple realization:
We had been incredibly lucky.
A lost dive light remained somewhere on the bottom.
It could just as easily have been us.
Like many divers, I believed I knew exactly how I would react during a serious emergency. Training teaches procedures, priorities, and solutions.
What training cannot fully replicate is the speed at which a real emergency unfolds.
The next day we met with an instructor and reviewed everything that had happened. The debrief was thorough and constructive. We discussed what had gone well, what could have been done differently, and the importance of maintaining composure under pressure.
We also talked about the role teamwork played in the outcome.
Perhaps we would have solved the situation on our own.
Perhaps not.
We’ll never know.
What I do know is that I owe our dive buddy more than a few beers.
That evening, XXXX and I sat together replaying every moment in our minds. Sleep was difficult. Every decision, every mistake, and every lucky break returned again and again.
Before sunrise we went for a walk.
A few hours later we shared a long breakfast.
Today we’re getting engaged.
And one day soon, we’ll probably go diving again.
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 En gammal självupplevd incident från 2016
|
Joakim Nilsson | 2026-06-09 13:03 |
  Sv: En gammal självupplevd incident från 2016 | Mikael Larsson | 2026-06-09 17:26 |
| Sv: En gammal självupplevd incident från 2016 | Johan Ström | 2026-06-09 22:20 |
| Sv: En gammal självupplevd incident från 2016 | Lars Eriksson | 2026-06-11 11:24 |
| Sv: Sv: En gammal självupplevd incident från 2016 | Anders Vilhelmsson | 2026-06-12 20:50 |
| Sv: Sv: Sv: En gammal självupplevd incident från 2016 | Joakim Nilsson | 2026-06-12 21:07 |
| Sv: Sv: Sv: Sv: En gammal självupplevd incident från 2016 | Anders Vilhelmsson | 2026-06-13 00:01 |
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