Dive The Plan

Forgive me if you’ve heard this story before. I’ve shared it a few times because it’s a cornerstone of my safety ethic. It’s a reminder that one of the most important skills in diving, or in life, is knowing when to say no.

In the late 1980s, as a young diver training to become a PADI Instructor, I was hungry for more than what recreational diving offered. Technical diving wasn’t yet formalized, and most dive shops discouraged anything beyond no-decompression limits. Still, I found a mentor, Dale McKnight, who offered an unofficial “Advanced Wreck Diving” course. There was no certification card, just a promise of deeper dives and real-world challenges.

Training began in Tobermory, Ontario, known for its cold, clear waters and intact wooden shipwrecks. We drilled on land, then ran lines and blackout scenarios during night dives in freezing water. Dale tested our teamwork, problem-solving, resilience, and ability to stay calm under pressure.

Our final dive was to a wreck called the Forest City. This would be my first decompression dive and deepest yet at 120 feet. We spent a day preparing—cutting tables, checking gear, visualizing the dive. I was nervous, but ready.

On the boat, Dale surprised us: “You’ve done so well, let’s go 10 feet deeper and stay 5 minutes longer to see the open hatch at the stern.” The team cheered and started recalculating. But I froze. I’d committed to a different plan and wasn’t mentally ready to change it last-minute. I told Dale I would sit it out.

Everyone seemed disappointed. But just as the first diver was ready to enter the water, Dale called us back and canceled the dive for everyone. He asked each of us why we so easily accepted a last-minute change. Then he turned to the group and said, “Jill is the only one who should dive today, since she stuck to the plan. The rest of you were willing to abandon it too easily.”

His words hit hard, but they left a strong impression on me. We ended up diving the original plan, and I successfully completed my first decompression and the deepest dive of my short career. I must have checked my gauge 50 times because of the narcosis, but everything went well. More importantly, I walked away with a lesson that shaped my entire diving career:

Plan the dive. Dive the plan.