Let’s be honest, many of us, if not most, think that logging dives is boring, childish, and, above all, useless. And if the majority do log their dives, they must do it in secret, because we rarely see anyone doing it. Nevertheless, it’s a requirement in any recreational diving course and a good practice for certified divers.
Why?
The official reason is that the certification attests the level of knowledge, while the logbook demonstrates the level of experience and presumed confidence, roughly calculated based on a magic formula that considers the certification level, the number of logged dives, and the date of the last one, all raised to the power of the place where we dove, because some sites are more demanding than others.
So, isn’t the logbook for us? Is it for the happiness of the next PRO who takes us diving, to calibrate our next dives? No, because instructors and divemasters almost never check the logbooks of their customers.
Then, is it perhaps for the happiness of someone else? Someone more important? Maybe.
Using a simplified formula, based only on the certification level, the number of logged dives, and the date of the last one, some local legislations set a minimum edge below which it is necessary to do a check dive before being allowed to dive in the “hard” sites. Sometimes the dive centers themselves set these limits, often with the best intentions, even though occasionally it seems to be to make a little more profit.
In any case, we know how many limits this barrier might have, or how easy it is to bypass it …
Probably our OWDC instructor suggested recording how much weight, what type of suit and cylinder we used, and whether it was fresh or salt water, because this information might be important the next time we dive. And if the instructor suggested, we surely did. But what happened after? We might have used this information or maybe not, however, this pedagogical effect is destined to soon disappear. Right? Do we still need written information to understand how to start a new diving holiday? Hopefully, and probably not.
So, considering we have not yet found any good reason to log our dives, what should we do with this logbook?
If it must be a logbook, why not pose a challenge and use it to our real advantage?
After completing a course, a very common and insidious thing might happen: our skills might improve initially, taking advantage of that initial momentum, as is normal when starting something from scratch. But then, they may (often they do) settle on a plateau, perhaps not even a high one. That momentum is lost, and skills may even regress. And this is due to one conceptual and one practical reason.
The conceptual one is this: divers often do not feel they need good techniques. What divers find most interesting is what they see, and to see that, good technique is superfluous.
Guitar players or dancers, for example, gain their pleasure directly from the quality of their skills. The better they can play or the better they can dance, the higher the quality of the pleasure they feel. Their pleasure is correlated to their skills, and they are proud to spend years refining them, and, if necessary to improve, they would play or dance even in their garage, alone, without waiting only for official teacher training.
But diving is not like this. Fish, corals, and wrecks do not become nicer because we have better buoyancy, or we can efficiently manage a gas-sharing scenario. In most cases there is no correlation between the beauty of what a diver sees and the quality of their skills, and divers do not gain much from developing their skills. For most divers, the minimum skill level guarantees the maximum reward.
Yes, for sure, some types of dives require highly developed skills, but they are the minority, and only a minority of divers are interested in them and willing to engage. Most divers do simple dives, and the system itself offers simple dives to satisfy the needs of its customers. And often, right or wrong as it is, divers are taken to more demanding dives even with poor personal skills. Period.
The result is that, unlike playing the guitar or dancing, most divers soon stop seeking good personal skills, often without realizing it, which leads to the practical reason why divers plateau or even regress.
Repetition is the key of learning, solidifying, and improving. With not enough repetition we cannot solidify, nevertheless improve. And if we’d keep not repeating enough, we forget, whatever it is a theoretical or a practical knowledge, like the geometry we learned at school, or the somersaults we used to do.
So easy as it seems.
Most divers will not engage in training dives—even in their local pool, or wherever and whenever they could make these fundamental repetitions, because it’s too time consuming, too boring, too expensive, or just too something. And though the advanced courses are a truly effective solution for this issue, that is a different story that would require another discussion …
But here is the challenge for those who do not want to settle any longer and still have a logbook to which they want to give meaning: why don’t we take a bit of time during our fun dives to do some of these essential repetitions?
If we had done 100 dives, or 75, or 50— but even just 25, or 20, or 15—and in each of these dives we had repeated some of the skills that keep us alive down there, our experience and knowledge of them would now be much greater! Again, it’s as easy as it seems.
Yet, if it is so easy, why do most divers not take advantage of this possibility?
Divers just do not think about this possibility. Nobody told them about this possibility. They are told that they must commit to ‘Continuing Education’ by paying a PRO, but nobody told them how to improve what they have already learned without always paying for a new course.
Why not log how many times we have deliberately flooded and emptied our mask? Or how many times we have tried to switch to the alternate regulator? Or whatever else we consider valuable.
Why don’t we do what guitar players and dancers do? Why don’t we keep practicing like them?
Divers need their garage space where they can practice their skills, because without an easy and available place, most will not practice, losing momentum or even regressing. If musicians and dancers practice even in their garage, without waiting only for professional stages, why don’t we practice a bit during our fun dives? Doing so would significantly increase the number of repetitions.
To improve, we must repeat enough, and the most available occasion to repeat is during fun dives. Don’t worry, as anyone who has done this will confirm, you won’t miss anything from your dives. Not a fish. Not a coral. Not a wreck. So make sure to keep space in your logbook even for these records!
It is not the best way to do it, but for those who still use a logbook, it could work as a reminder. A reminder that we have to commit to avoiding regression, fighting the plateau, and fueling improvement.
Just like the written information our OWDC instructor asked us to record, even this practice is destined to soon become useless. When? When we master all the skills. But once this goal is achieved, we can finally say that the logbook was truly a valuable tool.
Take the challenge, save a logbook, make it your ally. Dive and record your progress. Use the logbook for objective confirmation of what has really been done, and what hasn’t. Get the maximum benefit from it.
Thank you for reading!
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