Risk vs. Hazard
Every diver learns that scuba has risks, but most never stop to separate what can hurt them from what probably will. That difference was shown clearly to me during a shark dive in Fiji’s Beqa Lagoon.
It was a planned shark feed, the kind people imagine when they think of Fiji. A row of divers knelt behind a line of coral rubble while the feeders brought out tuna heads and kept the sharks in view. The water was clear, the guides were steady, and the sharks moved like they were part of a routine that everyone already understood. From a distance, it looked dangerous. There were bull sharks, reef sharks, and the occasional tiger. You could feel the power in the water each time they passed. But what caught my attention wasn’t the sharks. It was the guides.
They never stopped watching. Every movement, every turn of a shark’s head, every shift in current or scent, they noticed before it became anything. When a shark drifted in too close, one guide tapped their tank and used the pole to redirect it, calm and deliberate. You could tell they had seen this show a thousand times and still treated it with full respect. The sharks were the hazard. The real story was how the guides managed risk.
A hazard is anything that has the potential to cause harm. It is the physical or environmental thing that can hurt you. In diving, hazards are everywhere: depth, current, entanglement, cold, poor visibility, gas management, and in this case, large predators. Risk is different. Risk is the probability that the hazard will actually hurt you in this specific situation, and that probability changes with preparation, awareness, and experience.
Those guides were working right next to one of the most obvious hazards in diving, yet the risk was low because every detail they could control was under control. They managed spacing and diver position, kept predictable movement patterns, and stayed tuned to both the sharks and the team. Their calm was not bravado, it came from understanding what they were managing and trusting their own systems. That is what good diving looks like anywhere. The hazards never disappear. The diver just learns how to manage the risk around them.
Back home, the hazards look different. A quarry dive has entanglement lines, low visibility, and cold water. A wreck dive has silt, sharp metal, and an overhead. Even a shallow reef can have surge, current, or distraction that leads to poor awareness. Those are all hazards, but the risk depends on how you handle them. The mistake most divers make is blurring the two. They see a hazard and think the dive must be unsafe, or they treat a familiar hazard as harmless. Both views are wrong.
A new diver might avoid any site with current because it feels dangerous, when a mild current with clear exits can be perfectly manageable. An experienced diver might treat a familiar quarry like it is risk-free, skipping checks or pushing a little deeper because nothing bad has happened before. Both are reacting to the wrong thing. The hazard is the same. The risk changed because the diver did.
What makes the difference is honest awareness. The guides in Fiji were not calm because they ignored danger. They were calm because they understood it. They knew what could go wrong, how it usually starts, and what they would do about it. That kind of attention is what separates competence from confidence. Every dive is a mix of hazards and judgment. You do not need to make lists or quote safety manuals. You just need to notice what is around you and decide how likely each hazard is to become a problem today, with the conditions you have and the head you are in. If the odds feel too high, change something or stay on shore. That is not fear. That is realism.
The water in Fiji was full of power, but it was also full of control. Watching those guides reminded me that capable divers do not remove hazards, they learn to see them clearly and manage them with calm precision.
