A Story of a Near-Death Drowning Experience in 1985

Imagine standing at the bottom of the North Sea. Suddenly, I was faced with a life-and-death situation. I had just realised my diving buddy had failed me big time; he had never locked my diving helmet onto my neck seal. That’s why my diving hat had now become loose.

Surrounded by darkness, with no help available at 500 feet deep, a water temperature of only 3 degrees Celsius, and water pressure of 220 PSI, my diving hat was now full of frigid seawater.

Flooded and with nothing to breathe, all in a second of my life. However, I knew what I must not try to do, and that was breathe. I had to get the water out, and panicking would lead to death immediately.

I had not trained for this emergency procedure; my survival was up to me! Quickly, in a second, I grabbed the top of my dive hat.

While holding my loose dive hat on my neck seal and trying to create a seal to stop the water coming in, I attempted to flush out the seawater by turning the flush valve on the front of my dive hat to maximum.

While holding my dive hat with one hand, the urge to breathe was overwhelmingly difficult. But I knew there was still too much water in my dive hat. Tilting my head back inside the hat so my mouth was near the top of the helmet (a Kirby Morgan 17), I waited.

I would know immediately when there was gas to breathe. So here I was, fighting the urge to breathe, trying to ignore the pain of the buildup of CO₂ in my head, holding the dive hat down hard to seal it as it wanted to rise up. This took two minutes before I felt the water draining down over my forehead, past my nose and mouth.

Those two minutes of chaos were the longest time I had ever endured, not knowing if I would be successful or ever breathe again. Then, most of the draining stopped.

I started to feel I was getting somewhere, so I took a breath, and I didn’t cough or choke. I took another one. Success had arrived.

If any of you have experienced this same or a similar situation, you know the fear of death can lead to panic and death, or to a positive outcome. The urge to breathe is a natural phenomenon. In my situation, I had to fight against the excruciating pain of CO₂ in my head and lungs, or the consequences would be fatal. I knew one mouthful of very cold seawater, and I was done!

The fear of the consequences is what kept me alive. Yes, I was frightened, but panicking had a deadly consequence. That is what kept me alive.

I was able to speak on my intercom system back to my dive partner (bellman) in the bell and my supervisor topside. Even though I was exhausted and trying to get my breath back, I told my dive partner to pull me back to the bell, as I didn’t have any fins on. I couldn’t kick my legs to propel myself back toward safety.

My bellman quickly responded to my request and pulled my umbilical, pulling me back to the bell. I was able to enter the bell with some enthusiasm.

I never complained to my Norwegian dive partner; he knew he had made a massive mistake. We changed into the dive hat. Even though I was anxious and apprehensive, I knew I had to return to the water to overcome my fear, or I might never dive from a bell again.

This dive incident was never reported to the dive company headquarters. Only my immediate dive mates in the chamber and my supervisor knew about it.

I never saw my Norwegian dive partner again, and didn’t want to. I was just thankful I had made it back.