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I am writing in response to a Civil Beat article by Nathan Eagle, “How One Woman’s Snorkeling Death Might Help Save Lives.”

Based on my personal experience, I believe the newer full-face snorkel mask style is inherently dangerous to experienced snorkelers as well as novices.

Under “Important Instructions,” the seller notes: “The mask is not intended for use in scuba diving, strenuous diving, or free diving.”

I would add, “The mask is not intended for use if you even remotely guess you might find yourself engaging in sustained, strong swimming.”

I had snorkeled and polespear-fished for 30 years in coastal Mexican waters on annual vacations with our sailboat, and have spent entire days snorkeling throughout the daylight hours, with never a problem in various conditions and currents.

However, for a recent trip to Bali in October 2017, I splurged on a new full-face snorkel mask. (I have dental tori that makes the normal snorkel mouthpiece painful, over extended hours of wear.) As a result, I came near death due to carbon dioxide rebreathing in a strong current. I was unaware of the potential danger, going in.

Snorkeling In Bali

My 20-something niece — a daily surfer and strong swimmer who currently lives in Bali — and I were swimming off the beach at Crystal Bay on Nusa Penida, heading to a small islet (Pulai Batumejinong) located about 600 feet away. I wore my snorkel mask and fins, while my niece was swimming alongside me with a regular snorkel but no fins; we were viewing the reef fish below us as we swam out. The snorkel mask was well-fitted, comfortable, did not leak or fog, and allowed full easy breaths; I was very pleased.

Due in part to language barriers, and my mistaken assumption that our local companions would warn us of any known issues, I (foolishly) did not inquire about local conditions – I fully own that huge error.

Upon reaching the islet, however, a local boat came by to warn us of a strong current that flows at times on that end of the islet, and my niece said she was scared. So, upon the boat’s departure, we decided to head immediately and directly back to the beach while we were still fresh, rather than explore the islet.

However, a fairly strong current was indeed coming off the beach, making it difficult to make headway. I deliberately held my pace down to stay very close ahead of my niece, since she did not have fins, while I had both my snorkel mask and fins to propel me successfully against the current, so I was concerned for her.

(Upon later discussion, I learned that she, in turn, was holding back her own speed out of concern for me, as I was clearly far less fit than she — whereupon I pointed out to her that “at least fat floats.”)

However, going slower meant longer exposure to the current, and the slow pace of our progress worried me a lot. I realized that I was growing tired enough that I’d not be able to lend my niece any useful aid should she need it.�� I was afraid for her, as well as concerned for myself, so I tread water and gave the two-handed international distress wave to our friends on the beach, but they did not at first notice.

‘Soul-Ripping Horror’

When at last they did see us, they were unfamiliar with that signal (despite being major surfers), and so did not realize I was asking for aid. Seeing that they were not responding, I began swimming back in much harder, to better overcome the current and get in more quickly. I was horrorstruck to my heart’s deepest core as I realized that the quicker pace might potentially leave my niece behind. But upon seeing me speed up, thank God she was able to as well.

Though now I was indeed making better, though still slow progress against the current, I quickly found myself growing progressively weaker and out of breath despite very full, regular breaths (as when at a sustained, maintainable pace on an uphill mountain hike, or on my bicycle, elliptical, or treadmill for an hour or two). It is something I’d never experienced in my prior snorkeling experience, even when swimming hard with snorkel, dive mask, and swim fins to get back home after a long day meandering up a Mexican coastline. And it had only been maybe five or 10 minutes of reasonably strong swimming with fins.

I came near death due to carbon dioxide rebreathing in a strong current.

I could not understand what was happening. I vividly recall asking myself, again and again, “Why is this so hard?! What’s wrong with me?!”

I would normally be able to maintain a strong kick for far longer, based on the pool training I’d been doing prior to the trip, and prior experience in an open-lake mini-triathlon. I’m in the “slow-but-steady” category – I was not panicked, but did grow first concerned and then scared that I wouldn’t outlast the need to keep going.

I still did not panic, in part because I know drown-proofing techniques, and can tread water with fins indefinitely; yet I did not want to be taken out to sea or up an unknown coastline. I kept on plugging, swimming hard and breathing hard, despite tiring too fast and growing steadily weaker.

I made progress until at last (breathing extremely hard but still fully and regularly through the snorkel mask) I was able to set first a toehold, then a foothold onto the reef below me. I rested a bit there (mask still on, due to the swells), and then continued in sufficiently further that our beach buddies (by now alerted and aware) were able to walk/run out through the surf to drag me the rest of the way in. My niece followed, still swimming.

Lips Turned Blue

I was by now so weak I could barely stand and walk, gasping for breath open-mouthed but still nearly blacking out, and the first thing I heard my niece say was to ‘get that snorkel mask off her!’�� She and the others told me my face was extremely white and my lips were totally blue, and as I staggered up the sand and collapsed to sit on the beach, entirely spent and exhausted, she explained that she had read previously that there was a suspected problem with full-face snorkel masks (regardless of manufacturer or brand).

I must wholeheartedly concur. I’ve had a couple nightmares that brought back the soul-ripping horror of the situation as it unfolded. If I had panicked at all, rather than keeping focused on slowly but steadily working my way in; if I hadn’t had the ‘assist’ of swim fins or the confidence that I could stay afloat, at least; if, if, if … I could easily speculate on much worse outcomes.

While these masks may be considered by some to be acceptable in kiddie-pool conditions, I personally have come to believe they pose an inherent danger, since they will compromise the survivability of anyone who encounters unexpected conditions that require them to swim hard, using sustained strong effort.

When swimming hard, carbon dioxide apparently builds up due to insufficient circulation of air, resulting, in essence, in suffocation even while breathing freely without obstruction. I have no reason for specific complaint with this particular manufacturer or brand — but I would warn all to use full-face snorkel masks only in the most entirely benign of conditions, with someone providing a watchful eye.

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