I really didn’t feel well. Really, really didn’t. It had come on quite quickly, growing nausea which was making me retch with fast increasing regularity and my head was starting to spin. Not at all life threatening, just one of those irritating little things which would pass in time. So n o problem really – apart from that fact that I was around 1500 feet back in a cave and keeping my regulator in was proving an interesting mental challenge.

The day had started with a dive in Tortuga, and we had come on to Kim Ha – a small and very beautiful cave hidden under a fetid little puddle in the Mexican jungle. The puddle – I refuse to call it a cenote – was only a metre deep and not big enough for the four of us to get into at the same time.

It stank of hydrogen sulphide, which made our eyes stream and regulators taste foul. I think my reaction on being told that a cave was here was ‘You have to be joking’ but sure enough there was a line tied off in the water – brought up to the surface as the restriction at the entrance would be zero visibility and the only way to find the cave was to follow it blindly though the tree roots one at a time. 


Alastair headed in first and after waiting a very short time I followed with Fred close behind. As soon as we started our descent there was enough room for Danny to jump in and follow. I moved along the line and slowly the water cleared and I found myself in the cave with Al in sight – for about ten seconds. As he moved over the bottom very carefully indeed the leaves and mung which lined the cave floor at this point was disturbed and the visibility went again for a while. A dim glow of a light meant that Fred had joined us and we moved forward into the cave through a further long restriction. 

The visibility improved after a while and we were in a dark cave in the fresh water zone with bacteria floating like an orange cloud which in Florida gave the name to Insulation Room at Ginnie (near the river intrusion tunnel) as it looks so like roofing insulation. This cloud was covering the floor, draped over the line and, in places, was mid water where in a relatively tight cave we had to swim through it. As fins disturbed it it fragmented into thousands of gelatinous balls – which when rubbed between fingers had no substance at all.

Down we went, making the first of a series of five jumps. GUE protocol dictates that we each leave a non directional marker on the line at a T (an intersection of two lines) to make the way home. On this dive we would need five cookies and I checked my pockets to make sure I had them all ready to go.

We descended through a halocline into a salt water layer and the limestone which makes up the cave has been bleached white by the sea water. Visibility goes up to almost air like quality and this cave is truly beautiful. Every cave has a different personality and this one is a jewel indeed. It reminds me of twin cave in Marianna County FL, its prehistoric history as an ancient sea bed visible in the shells which are buried in the rock, the ancient floor clearly cracked where it had once been wet sand, then dried out before turning to rock over hundreds of years. Coral polyps were evident as were sea urchin spikes and even half an urchin itself. Caves are bottled histories – not of man but of the earth itself and one of the main reasons that I feel so privileged to dive in these places.

We negotiated another T, dropping markers, and then another. We were aiming to complete a circuit with a distance of roughly 1800 feet and an average depth of around 27 meters. Danny had said that the start of the circuit was about ten minutes in and then would take 30 odd minutes to complete. I looked at my watch and it read 27 minutes so in about 10 minutes or so we would hopefully be on the last leg.

I started to become aware that I was not feeling on top of my game and, whilst I couldn’t quite put my finger on what was wrong, asked Al to slow down a little which he did immediately. I carried on for a couple more minutes feeling increasingly nauseous and decided that whilst I was OK to press on I better let the team know that whilst I was happy to try to complete the circuit as this would be the quickest way out, I was not in good order. I signalled Al again told him that I was not great and that whilst I was happy to continue we needed to go slower. His response was immediately to thumb the dive which surprised me at the time but when we discussed it afterwards he already knew that his available gas would not permit us to finish the circuit and any further in would therefore definitely lead to an extended exit.

We turned and headed out. Fred was leading and all was reasonably well for five minutes or so - if not a little slow.  

Clearly Fred and Al were concerned to learn what was going on and I drew out my wetnotes to reassure them that whilst I was feeling very sick I was not that bad and OK to keep going out. I knew that Al would pass the note to Danny who was shadowing the team and would be concerned as well. It’s funny how you think at times like this – I was preoccupied with the fact that I couldn’t remember how to spell nauseous!

Then I started to retch badly and things got a little more interesting. There appears to be an inbuilt reaction to being sick where your body has a natural urge to get rid of anything in your mouth. This is understandably not too helpful underwater when you require a regulator to breath and as I fought a wave of sickness I stopped and concentrated on my breathing. Each time I had to stop we were clocking up bottom time on what was already a protracted exit but I simply could not swim when hit by each wave. Between bouts I was doing my best to make progress out, checking my gas very regularly as I was concerned that my breathing rate was abnormal but there was no evidence from the gauge that I was using any more than I would have expected.

I had paused again whilst I was incapacitated by another wave of sickness, when Danny came in and holding my arm started to fin me forwards. I have to say that this was very comforting as my head was spinning from the exertion of constant retching. We soon hit a rhythm where he assisted when necessary but I swam for myself when the nausea passed once again – very necessary when eth cave passage narrowed and there was insufficient room for two to swim close to each other. Whilst I was convinced that I was suffering from a reaction to the hydrogen sulphide, it suddenly occurred to me that I may have a bad fill and queried with Danny whether I should switch to another gas source. He declined, explaining afterwards that he was convinced it was the hydrogen sulphide too as he had seen others have the same symptoms in the past, and we swam on – where I learned that trying to clear your ears whilst retching is very hard indeed. We are clocking up deco and the others are aware that I will have to complete it back in the hydrogen sulphide layer at 6 metres.

We passed the markers dropped on the way in leaving them in place as speed was of the essence when progress could be made. Seeing my markers at each T was very comforting indeed especially I had lost track of depth and time struggling to manage just my buoyancy and position within the cave. The fresh water layer confirmed to me that we were nearing the exit and the visibility started to deteriorate – as did my condition.

I was now finding it hard to breathe at all between bouts of retching – and having to purge my reg into my mouth to get any gas. My O2 bottle appears out of nowhere (thanks to Fred) and I’m switched by the team – all I can do is concentrate on breathing. In. Out. In Out – how hard can it be?

I query deco with Danny – desperate to get out – and he indicates that we need to stay a little longer. To exit I must pass through the zero viz in the restriction alone and they are understandably worried. I’m given the signal to go and am boxed in front and back as I pass through then – after 40 odd minutes and very short deco indeed – I break the surface.

I stay on O2 until two of the team are able to dump their kit and get me out of mine. The moment my O2 is removed I deteriorate again and have to return to purging the regulator to breathe. The stench is unbearable and as soon as I am out of my kit I scramble out of the pit and run for the cars – anything to get away from the smell which I am now utterly convinced is the culprit. This proves to be correct, as after 20 or so minutes on the surface and a lot of water I start to feel better – an hour later I’m in my hotel trying to scrub the smell off me in the shower and back to normal.

What to learn?

Two things alone got me out of that cave. Training and team. I’m indebted to both.

Dropping cookies may seem a bit of a faff – especially when you know where you are going perhaps – but the entire team was wrapped up in managed our exit and could have easily read our exit incorrectly had our route not been clearly marked. I’m told that at one point I had actually been caught up in a bout of retching right over a T – and missed it completely which would have been critical had the markers not have been so clearly evident for navigation. 

Breath in – breath out. Repeat as necessary. Simple enough isn’t it. I’ll add another for cave diving – just keep swimming. The only option you have available in an overhead.

Trust in your team is vital when you are caught up in a situation like this and the knowledge that they are capable of dealing with issues is very comforting indeed. The guys blew off deco to get me out and rather than seeking to address this when they surfaced were running through the jungle in complete kit in order to get me out quickly. 

Cave diving is wonderful fun, and the following day I was back doing a three hour dive with Danny and Al in Dos Ojos. Don’t think I’ll be going back to Kim Ha anytime soon though