Scuba Gremlins
Benjamin Hadfield Jun 17, 2026
Scuba Gremlins: The Little Mistakes That Turn Good Dives Into Big Dumb Adventures
Real advice from Benjamin at Stuart Scuba, offered with love, humor, and only mild judgment
Let’s be honest. Most scuba problems do not start with some dramatic movie moment where the music changes, a shark swims by, and somebody has to wrestle a submarine.
Most scuba problems start much smaller.
A dead dive computer battery. A regulator that sounds like Darth Vader trying to breathe through a kazoo. A missing weight pocket. A BCD bladder that has decided it no longer wishes to participate in buoyancy.
A diver who heard the briefing nodded confidently, then immediately swam off like a golden retriever that saw a tennis ball.
That is how most dive-day nonsense begins. Not with evil. Not with stupidity. Just little misses, tiny shortcuts, and the belief that “it’ll probably be fine.”
And listen, this article is not written from the top of a mountain by someone pretending to be perfect. We have all had our moments. I have had mine. You have had yours. Every instructor alive has a story that begins with, “Well, I should have checked that before we got on the boat…”
So this is written with kindness, humor, and a very real desire to help you avoid becoming the main character in the crew’s next safety briefing. Let’s face it. Every crew story that starts with a warning, comes from something that actually happened
Let’s talk about the little scuba gremlins that make diving harder, less safe, and occasionally way more exciting than anyone asked for.
1. Not checking your gear before dive day
This might be the king of all scuba gremlins.
Do not wait until you are standing on the boat, eating a gas-station breakfast sandwich, and trying to look calm while your regulator is free-flowing like a broken fire hydrant.
Check your gear before dive day.
Not the morning of. Not while the boat is loading. Not while the captain is trying to get divers checked in, the crew is loading tanks, and everyone else is pretending not to hear your BCD leaking like a sad balloon animal.
A few days before your dive, pull your gear out and actually look at it. Put it together. Put it on a tank. Pressurize the regulator. Breathe from the primary and the alternate. Inflate and deflate your BCD. Let it sit inflated for a while and see if it stays that way. Check your weight pockets. Check your mask strap. Look at your fins. Make sure your computer turns on. Make sure the battery is not flashing at you like it has been trying to warn you since Christmas.
This is not because we want to sell you service. This is because your dive gear is life-support equipment, not a beach chair.
We see it all the time. A diver shows up with a regulator that has not been serviced since the flip phone era. A BCD has a hole in the bladder. A computer battery is dead. The diver is missing fins. Or a mask. Or the one very specific part that makes their very specific setup work.
And now the entire day gets harder.
Sometimes we can fix it. Sometimes we can rent you something. Sometimes we can bench check the regulator and see what is going on. But sometimes the honest answer is, “This needed to be handled three days ago, not three minutes before splash.”
A simple pre-dive gear check at home can save your dive, save your money, save the crew time, and save your blood pressure.
And if you do find something wrong, bring it to the shop. Let us look at it. Let us help. That is much better than discovering your inflator sticks while you are descending in current and wondering why you are suddenly headed toward the surface like a cork with commitment issues.
2. Treating service like it is optional
You change the oil in your car. At least, I hope you do. If not, we need a whole different article.
So why would you ignore the thing you put in your mouth underwater to keep you alive?
Regulators need service. BCD inflators need service. Gauges should be checked. Computers need batteries and inspection. O-rings dry out. Seats wear. Salt builds up. Hoses crack. Mouthpieces split. Things age, even if they sit in a closet and “look fine.”
Looking fine is not the same as functioning properly.
A bench check is a great tool. We can put your regulator on a tank, look at intermediate pressure, check breathing effort, look for obvious leaks, inspect hoses, and catch some problems early. But a bench check is not magic. It is not a full rebuild. It does not replace manufacturer-recommended service. It is a snapshot, not a crystal ball.
Different manufacturers have different recommendations. Some are annual. Some are two years or a certain number of dives. Some have different guidance for heavy use, rental use, pool use, or high-frequency divers. The key is this: follow the manufacturer’s recommendation for your specific gear, and when in doubt, ask a qualified technician.
And please do not say, “But I only dove it twice last year.”
That does not automatically mean everything is perfect. Sitting can be hard on gear too. O-rings do not care that you were busy. Salt does not respect your calendar. Corrosion does not say, “Well, he only used this lightly, so I’ll be polite.”
If your gear is overdue, get it serviced.
If you are not sure whether it is overdue, bring it in.
If it sounds weird, breathes hard, leaks, free-flows, sticks, squeals, bubbles from places bubbles should not bubble from, or gives you that deep emotional feeling of “hmmm,” bring it in.
Your regulator is not the place to gamble.
Here at Stuart, our service department also documents each regulator and service done in our system so you will have a record as well.
3. Diving alone for no good reason
There is a time and place for solo diving. There is training for it. There is equipment for it. There is a mindset for it.
But wandering away from your buddy and group on a recreational drift dive because you saw something shiny is not solo diving. That is underwater toddler behavior.
And I say that with love.
Florida diving, especially boat diving off West Palm Beach, often means current. It means drift diving. It means the boat is tracking bubbles, flags, groups, dive times, and surface pickups. On our boat, Little Deeper, we are already making multiple pickups because divers have different breathing rates, different dive times, and different comfort levels.
Or, to say that in the language of science: different RMV rates, which everyone still insists on calling SAC rate because apparently scuba divers enjoy making terminology weird.
When you decide to leave the group for no good reason, you are not being adventurous. You are creating a math problem for the captain and crew.
Now they are tracking the main group, the flag, the bubbles, the divers who surfaced early, the divers who stayed down longer, the boat traffic, the current, the site, and now you — the lost 3-year-old in the mall who decided the candy store looked more interesting.
Just stay with your group.
Also, the person dragging the flag usually knows where the cool stuff is. That is kind of the point. They know the reef line. They know the wreck. They know the ledges. They know where the fish are hiding. So unless your plan is to confidently swim away from the good stuff, maybe follow the person whose job is literally to know where the good stuff is.
There is also the very real safety side.
Entanglement happens. Medical issues happen. Gear problems happen. Out-of-gas emergencies happen. Anxiety happens. Cramps happen. Current changes. Visibility changes. Boats are on the surface. You are not safer because you are alone and confident. You are safer because you are trained, equipped, aware, and connected to a team.
Dive with your buddy. Dive with your group. Enjoy the dive without making the crew play maritime hide-and-seek.
4. Confusing comfort with training
This is a big one.
A diver gets comfortable. That is good. They get more relaxed in the water. Also good. They stop feeling nervous. Great.
Then somewhere along the way, their brain says, “I am comfortable at 60 feet, so clearly I am ready for 130 feet, solo, in current, while chasing fish, with the same single tank and the same plan I used in 40 feet.”
That is not progression. That is bad logic wearing fins.
Comfort is not certification. Experience is not the same as training. Confidence is not a gas plan. And “I’ve done it before” is not a safety strategy.
Training exists because the next level usually brings new problems. Deeper diving brings higher gas consumption, more narcosis, shorter no-decompression limits, longer ascents, and less room for error. Wrecks bring overhead hazards, entanglement hazards, sharp edges, silt, current, and the temptation to poke your head somewhere your training has not earned yet. Solo diving requires redundant gas, self-rescue skills, navigation, planning, discipline, and the ability to solve your own problems without turning “I’m fine” into “well, that escalated.”
If your plan requires skills you have not been trained to use, that is not a plan. That is a wish.
There is no shame in saying, “I need more training before I do that.”
In fact, that is what good divers say.
The ocean does not care about your ego. The wreck does not care how many dives you have. The current does not care that you watched a video. Physics does not care that your buddy said, “You’ll be fine.”
Get the training. Practice the skills. Build experience the right way.
That is how you get to do bigger, cooler dives without turning them into learning experiences for the Coast Guard.
5. Hunter brain: when common sense gets left on the boat
Now we need to talk about hunters.
Spearfishers. Lobster hunters. The people who enter the water as normal humans and then, at the first sight of dinner, transform into underwater golden retrievers with weapons.
We love you. Truly. Hunters are often some of the most passionate, capable, and water-comfortable divers around.
But good grief, the excitement can get spicy.
Hunter brain is real. The fish appears. The lobster backs into a hole. The brain narrows. The gauge disappears from memory. The buddy becomes a rumor. The current is ignored. Depth slowly creeps up. The diver starts breathing harder, finning harder, staying longer, and suddenly the whole dive plan has been replaced by, “I almost had him.”
That is how hunters get in trouble.
The first mistake is picking a line with the current and finning like a scalded cat in that direction.
Come on. Let’s use a little common sense here.
Instead of seeing how far one diver can travel in one direction while acting like an Olympic sprinter with a GoPro, slow down. Work back and forth. Widen your search. Look left. Look right. Look under ledges. Look behind you once in a while. There may be fish somewhere other than 100 yards downrange in the direction your adrenaline told you to go.
I have watched hunters blow past good fish like they were trying to hit 88 miles per hour and go back to the future. I have seen divers fin right over lobster to chase the one lobster they suddenly spotted in the next zip code.
Slow. Down.
Slowing down has advantages. You use less gas. You see more. Your aim is better. Your buddy can stay with you. The captain is not up top pushing throttles forward, trying to catch you, then turning around to pick up the rest of the group who did not sign up for your personal underwater track meet.
Also, fish are not impressed by panic.
Neither are lobsters.
Neither is your SPG.
The second hunter mistake is getting deeper and deeper without realizing the situation has changed. A diver starts in a reasonable depth, sees something interesting, follows the reef, follows the ledge, follows the fish, and suddenly they are deeper than their training, deeper than their plan, and deeper than their gas supply honestly supports.
Sometimes this is happening on a single tank with basic open water training and no real understanding of gas planning, narcosis, emergency ascent reality, or how fast things change at depth.
But hey, what you don’t know can’t kill you.
Or then again, yes. Yes it absolutely can.
Hunters need to be even more disciplined than sightseeing divers, not less. You are task-loaded. You are excited. You may be carrying a spear, a bag, a lobster gauge, a net, a light, a stringer, or whatever collection of tools you have decided makes you look like Aquaman’s garage sale.
That means you need more awareness, not less.
Know your gas. Know your depth. Know your buddy. Know the current. Know the rules. Know what is legal to take. Know what season you are in. Know your limits. And please, for the love of all things salty, do not turn the dive into a one-person race across the Atlantic.
6. Not knowing your gas situation until your regulator tells you
Your pressure gauge should not be a surprise ending.
If the first sign that you are low on gas is that your regulator starts breathing hard, you have skipped several important chapters.
Gas management is not just “I came up with air last time.” That is not a plan. That is luck with bubbles.
Before the dive, know the plan. What pressure starts the ascent? What reserve are you keeping? What is the boat’s rule? What is your buddy’s gas? What happens if someone has a problem at depth? Are you both able to get up safely?
During the dive, check your gauge often. Not once. Not when you remember. Not after chasing a lobster through three counties. Often.
Communicate with your buddy. Be honest.
Do not do the scuba version of lying about your age.
If you have 900 psi, do not signal that you have 1500 because you do not want to end the dive. That is how small problems become exciting problems. And exciting problems underwater are usually expensive, wet, and emotionally educational.
On our charters, we have reserve expectations for a reason. Coming back with proper reserve is not “wasting gas.” It is finishing the dive like a grown-up.
You do not own the last 300 psi. That belongs to the emergency you hope you never have.
7. Ignoring the boat briefing because you have “been diving forever”
There is a special kind of diver who mentally leaves the briefing after the word “welcome.”
They stand there nodding, looking very experienced, while absorbing absolutely nothing.
Then, 20 minutes later, they ask, “Which way is the current going?”
Friend. We just talked about this.
Boat briefings matter. Site briefings matter. Crew instructions matter. Entry procedures matter. Exit procedures matter. Max times matter. Recall procedures matter. Where to sit, where to put fins, how to use the ladder, how to avoid getting bonked by tanks, how pickups work — all of that matters.
Every boat is a little different. Every operator has procedures. Every site has considerations. Even if you have 1,000 dives, you have not done this specific dive, on this specific day, in this specific current, with this specific group, on this specific boat, under these specific conditions.
Listen to the briefing.
Not because we like the sound of our own voices, although some of us do.
Listen because the briefing is where small problems get prevented before they become big problems.
8. Not carrying or knowing how to use an SMB
An SMB is not just a scuba accessory. It is not underwater flair. It is not something you bought because the color matched your fins.
It is a signaling device.
In open-ocean drift diving, a surface marker buoy can be the difference between being easy to see and being a tiny head in a big ocean wondering why the boat looks like a rumor.
Carry an SMB. Better yet, carry one you know how to deploy.
And no, “I watched someone do it once” does not count.
Practice. Learn how to control the spool or reel. Learn how to deploy without turning yourself into a human lift bag. Learn how to keep the line clear. Learn how to do it without rocketing to the surface like a champagne cork.
Also carry a whistle. A mirror is not a bad idea. A light can help in low light. Some divers use GPS locator devices in certain conditions. The point is simple: help the boat help you.
We love you, but from the surface, you are mostly a dark little coconut in a giant blue washing machine.
Make yourself visible.
9. Overweighting yourself into a personal fitness program
Some divers are not diving. They are doing underwater CrossFit.
They are overweight, vertical, kicking constantly, inflating and dumping the BCD every 40 seconds, dragging gauges, stirring up the bottom, and wondering why they are tired and low on gas.
Buoyancy is not just a pretty skill for photos. It is safety. It affects gas consumption, comfort, reef protection, ascent control, descent control, and how much the dive feels like fun instead of a slow-motion bar fight with physics.
A lot of divers add weight because they are nervous. They want to get down, so they keep adding lead until descent is easy. But then the rest of the dive becomes work. They need more air in the BCD, their trim gets worse, they kick harder, they breathe more, they rise and fall, and the whole thing turns into an exhausting bubble-powered elevator ride.
Proper weighting matters.
Trim matters.
Streamlining matters.
Dangling gear matters.
If your octo is dragging through the sand like it is looking for spare change, fix it. If your console is bouncing off the reef, clip it. If your knees are pointed at the bottom and your fins are stirring up 10,000 years of sediment, let’s work on trim.
Nobody is born with perfect buoyancy. It is learned. It is practiced. And when it clicks, diving gets dramatically easier.
Also, the reef appreciates it when you stop karate-kicking it in the face.
10. Trusting your dive computer without understanding it
Dive computers are amazing. They are also not magic.
They do not know how you feel. They do not know if you are anxious. They do not know if you slept badly, are dehydrated, are cold, are working too hard, or chased a fish like it owed you money.
They calculate based on the information they have and the algorithm they use. That means you still need to think.
Before the dive, turn it on. Check the battery. Check the mode. Check the gas setting. Check whether it is in air, nitrox, gauge, freedive, or some mystery mode created by button-mashing in your gear bag.
If you are diving nitrox, analyze your tank and set your computer. Personally. Not by vibes. Not because the person next to you said, “They’re all 32.” Analyze it, label it, set it, and know your MOD.
Also know what your computer is telling you during the dive. NDL matters. Ascent rate matters. Safety stops matter. Warnings matter. A computer screaming at you is not background music.
And if your computer dies, locks out, or does something weird, do not shrug and follow someone else’s computer like a remora with poor planning skills.
Know your gear. Know your computer. Ask questions before the dive, not after it starts beeping at you in a language you do not understand.
11. Trying new gear for the first time on a challenging dive
New gear is fun. New gear is shiny. New gear makes us feel like better divers before we have even used it.
But the first dive with new equipment should not be deep, ripping current, low visibility, hunting, wreck, night, or anything that already adds task loading.
New mask? Test it.
New computer? Learn it.
New fins? Try them.
New BCD? Weight check and buoyancy practice.
New sidemount system? Please do not assemble it in the parking lot with YouTube confidence and then jump into a drift dive acting like everything will sort itself out.
New gear changes things. It changes buoyancy, trim, muscle memory, hose routing, where your releases are, how your pockets work, how your computer displays information, and how much your brain has to process.
Your first dive with new equipment should be boring on purpose.
Boring is underrated.
Boring means you have enough mental bandwidth left to solve problems.
12. Letting ego drive the dive
This one gets people.
Nobody wants to be the diver who calls the dive. Nobody wants to be the person who says, “I’m not comfortable.” Nobody wants to feel like they are holding the group back.
But good divers call dives.
Good divers speak up.
Good divers say, “I need help with this.” Good divers say, “I am not feeling it today.” Good divers say, “My ear is not clearing.” Good divers say, “I am underweighted, overweighted, confused, anxious, cold, tired, seasick, or not sure about this plan.”
Bad divers pretend everything is fine until it is very much not fine.
There is no shame in calling a dive. There is no shame in skipping a dive. There is no shame in needing a refresher. There is no shame in taking a class. There is no shame in asking crew to look at something.
The shame is in letting pride put you, your buddy, or the crew in a bad situation.
The ocean will be there tomorrow. The wreck will be there tomorrow. The fish will continue being rude and delicious tomorrow.
Make the smart call.
13. Forgetting that “recreational” does not mean “risk-free”
Recreational diving is supposed to be fun. That is the whole point.
But fun does not mean casual to the point of careless.
We are still underwater. Breathing compressed gas. Managing pressure changes. Dealing with boats, current, depth, equipment, marine life, weather, visibility, and human decision-making — which, if you have met humans, is often the weakest link in the system.
The goal is not to make diving scary. The goal is to respect it enough that it stays fun.
Most accidents are not one giant mistake. They are a chain of little decisions.
Skipped gear check. Overdue service. A little deeper than planned. A little farther from the group. A little lower on gas. A little more current. A little more task loading. A little too much ego.
Break the chain early.
That is what good divers do.
Final thought: be the diver the crew is happy to see
The best divers are not always the ones with the most expensive gear or the most certification cards.
The best divers are the ones who are prepared.
They check their gear. They service it. They listen to the briefing. They stay with the group. They monitor gas. They dive within training. They carry safety equipment. They slow down. They ask questions. They keep learning.
They are calm, kind, aware, and humble enough to know the ocean does not care how cool they looked on Instagram.
At Stuart Scuba, we would rather help you prevent a problem than watch you struggle through one. Bring your gear in before the trip. Ask us to bench check it. Take the refresher. Take the next class. Practice the SMB. Learn gas planning. Work on buoyancy. Get better on purpose.
Diving is supposed to be fun.
A little preparation keeps it that way.
And if nothing else, remember this:
Slow down. Stay with your group. Check your gas. Service your gear. Listen to the briefing. And please do not make the captain chase you across the ocean because a fish hurt your feelings.
