Thalassamania
26-11-2006, 03:44
Buddy breathing, caught in a net, deep submersible and open ocean sharks.
I came across a floppy disk with some old incident reports on it. I edited them to remove the names and "indentifying marks" where I needed to. I hope you find them enjoyable.
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Air to share at Lobos - 1970s
I was diving at Pt. Lobos, CA with my Assistant Instructor. We were at about 40 FSW, 15 minutes into our dive. My buddy, after signaling me, took off in pursuit of a large eagle ray, I was along side of him, about 2 feet back. He suddenly stopped, spat out his regulator and pointed to his mouth (signaling me to buddy-breathe). I gave him my regulator and we settled into a two-breath-each rhythm while maintaining our neutral buoyancy. We were under a very dense kelp canopy and had to buddy-breathe while traveling about 100 yards to a point where we could surface. We did so without further incident, surfaced, returned to our surf mats and to shore. Later examination of his regulator second stage showed that he had bitten off a tab from his mouthpiece and it had lodged in the regulator behind the actuating lever in such a fashion as to cut off his air supply. After some experimentation I found that in this circumstance, if I attempted to depress the purge button I could feel it stick and that if I sharply stuck the second stage it would then function.
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Octopus in gill net, used - 1985
I was diving with three recently authorized research divers at a location where there is a large permanent gill net that all divers had been instructed to stay well clear of. We were diving as two separate buddy pairs. My buddy and I had completed our dive and were returning to shore on the surface when one member of the other team surfaced alone, near the net. I asked him were his buddy was and he said he did not know, that was why he surfaced. I looked around for bubbles and saw some coming up not far away. I told my buddy and the other diver to follow me and dove down on the bubbles. I found the "missing" diver tangled in the net, struggling to get free. She had gotten into the net as she surfaced since the current had bowed the top of the net over her. She had first taken out her knife to cut herself free but had dropped it, and it was now out of reach on the bottom. She had then tried to take off her tank and had somehow managed to wind her intermediate pressure hose around her neck and was now badly fouled in the net. I signaled the two divers with me to buddy-up and stay clear. I approached the fouled diver, got her attention, and had her shift from her regulator to my octopus. I helped her to complete the removal of her tank and we surfaced together, leaving her tank in the net. After settling her down, my buddy and I submerged and recovered her tank from the net and her knife from the bottom.
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Hooking the sub - 1986
I was part of the submersible crew for the DEEP OCEAN ROVER One Man Atmospheric Diving System during work carried out in the Bahamas. My duties included assisting with pilot training and submersible maintenance and heading the submersible launch and recovery team. We had launched the vehicle, with Sylvia Earle as pilot, in calm seas and I had gone to my cabin to get some sleep. The Operation Supervisor woke my up about six hours later and told me that the weather had turned bad, the sub had been recalled and was at 500 feet. When I came on deck I found that the seas were running six to ten feet. Recovery of the sub required free diving to attach four tag lines below the water line and then guiding the crane's hook (an object that weighed about 100 lbs.) to the lifting eye that was attached to the top of the metal mating ring that joined the sub's acrylic hemispheres together. This was the most dangerous part of the operation since the hook did not follow the motion of the water and there was significant potential for either being knocked unconscious or having the hook damage the acrylic sphere. I stationed myself at the top of the sub and attempted, a dozen or so times, to catch the hook as the sub rose with a wave and snap it into the lifting eye. I was not successful. Then I tried a different approach, I waited I could grab the hook and hung on to it. I alternated between being submerged by the weight of the hook and hanging from it in mid air. After about five minutes of this I had the lucky break I was waiting for. I came down directly on top of the sub and there was just enough slack in the crane's cable to give me the second that I needed to hook it in and jump clear
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Blue Water, not White Death - 1992
Last month I was diving as pivot diver on a blue-water night dive about 70 miles east of Bermuda. There were two collecting scientists and a National Geographic cinematographer with me on the dive. About 25 minutes into the dive I saw a large oceanic white tip shark (about 10 foot). It came toward me and I pushed it away with my light. I pulled on the tethers to signal the other divers and the shark went toward the photographer. He saw it and, of course, began filming. The other two divers followed the plan for such incidents. They detached their tethers, came in to me and then released their tethers. I dropped my tether and signaled them to surface. The three of us ascended, facing outward, at a normal rate. I watched the shark and photographer. The shark turned toward us and circled around us near the surface. I dropped a Dietzman Death Square that I carried for such occasions, the shark followed it as it sank. I told the two divers to enter the zodiac. As they clambered into the boat the shark came right back up, but stopped at the photographer, who, of course, began filming again. I dove back down to the photographer. When I got to him the shark had gone back toward the surface and was directly above us. I dropped the photographer's tether, we ascended back to back, the shark swam off about 20 feet and was just at the limit of my light. I waited until the camera was in the boat and the photographer was starting to climb aboard. I dropped another Death Square and as the shark dove after it, I quickly followed him aboard. (Greg Dietzman, a tech at WHOI got the idea that sharks would follow little squares, maybe 3x3 inches, of galvanized sheet metal, and it worked, at least long enough for us to get back in the boat. They became know as "Dietzman Death Squares.")
I came across a floppy disk with some old incident reports on it. I edited them to remove the names and "indentifying marks" where I needed to. I hope you find them enjoyable.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Air to share at Lobos - 1970s
I was diving at Pt. Lobos, CA with my Assistant Instructor. We were at about 40 FSW, 15 minutes into our dive. My buddy, after signaling me, took off in pursuit of a large eagle ray, I was along side of him, about 2 feet back. He suddenly stopped, spat out his regulator and pointed to his mouth (signaling me to buddy-breathe). I gave him my regulator and we settled into a two-breath-each rhythm while maintaining our neutral buoyancy. We were under a very dense kelp canopy and had to buddy-breathe while traveling about 100 yards to a point where we could surface. We did so without further incident, surfaced, returned to our surf mats and to shore. Later examination of his regulator second stage showed that he had bitten off a tab from his mouthpiece and it had lodged in the regulator behind the actuating lever in such a fashion as to cut off his air supply. After some experimentation I found that in this circumstance, if I attempted to depress the purge button I could feel it stick and that if I sharply stuck the second stage it would then function.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Octopus in gill net, used - 1985
I was diving with three recently authorized research divers at a location where there is a large permanent gill net that all divers had been instructed to stay well clear of. We were diving as two separate buddy pairs. My buddy and I had completed our dive and were returning to shore on the surface when one member of the other team surfaced alone, near the net. I asked him were his buddy was and he said he did not know, that was why he surfaced. I looked around for bubbles and saw some coming up not far away. I told my buddy and the other diver to follow me and dove down on the bubbles. I found the "missing" diver tangled in the net, struggling to get free. She had gotten into the net as she surfaced since the current had bowed the top of the net over her. She had first taken out her knife to cut herself free but had dropped it, and it was now out of reach on the bottom. She had then tried to take off her tank and had somehow managed to wind her intermediate pressure hose around her neck and was now badly fouled in the net. I signaled the two divers with me to buddy-up and stay clear. I approached the fouled diver, got her attention, and had her shift from her regulator to my octopus. I helped her to complete the removal of her tank and we surfaced together, leaving her tank in the net. After settling her down, my buddy and I submerged and recovered her tank from the net and her knife from the bottom.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Hooking the sub - 1986
I was part of the submersible crew for the DEEP OCEAN ROVER One Man Atmospheric Diving System during work carried out in the Bahamas. My duties included assisting with pilot training and submersible maintenance and heading the submersible launch and recovery team. We had launched the vehicle, with Sylvia Earle as pilot, in calm seas and I had gone to my cabin to get some sleep. The Operation Supervisor woke my up about six hours later and told me that the weather had turned bad, the sub had been recalled and was at 500 feet. When I came on deck I found that the seas were running six to ten feet. Recovery of the sub required free diving to attach four tag lines below the water line and then guiding the crane's hook (an object that weighed about 100 lbs.) to the lifting eye that was attached to the top of the metal mating ring that joined the sub's acrylic hemispheres together. This was the most dangerous part of the operation since the hook did not follow the motion of the water and there was significant potential for either being knocked unconscious or having the hook damage the acrylic sphere. I stationed myself at the top of the sub and attempted, a dozen or so times, to catch the hook as the sub rose with a wave and snap it into the lifting eye. I was not successful. Then I tried a different approach, I waited I could grab the hook and hung on to it. I alternated between being submerged by the weight of the hook and hanging from it in mid air. After about five minutes of this I had the lucky break I was waiting for. I came down directly on top of the sub and there was just enough slack in the crane's cable to give me the second that I needed to hook it in and jump clear
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Blue Water, not White Death - 1992
Last month I was diving as pivot diver on a blue-water night dive about 70 miles east of Bermuda. There were two collecting scientists and a National Geographic cinematographer with me on the dive. About 25 minutes into the dive I saw a large oceanic white tip shark (about 10 foot). It came toward me and I pushed it away with my light. I pulled on the tethers to signal the other divers and the shark went toward the photographer. He saw it and, of course, began filming. The other two divers followed the plan for such incidents. They detached their tethers, came in to me and then released their tethers. I dropped my tether and signaled them to surface. The three of us ascended, facing outward, at a normal rate. I watched the shark and photographer. The shark turned toward us and circled around us near the surface. I dropped a Dietzman Death Square that I carried for such occasions, the shark followed it as it sank. I told the two divers to enter the zodiac. As they clambered into the boat the shark came right back up, but stopped at the photographer, who, of course, began filming again. I dove back down to the photographer. When I got to him the shark had gone back toward the surface and was directly above us. I dropped the photographer's tether, we ascended back to back, the shark swam off about 20 feet and was just at the limit of my light. I waited until the camera was in the boat and the photographer was starting to climb aboard. I dropped another Death Square and as the shark dove after it, I quickly followed him aboard. (Greg Dietzman, a tech at WHOI got the idea that sharks would follow little squares, maybe 3x3 inches, of galvanized sheet metal, and it worked, at least long enough for us to get back in the boat. They became know as "Dietzman Death Squares.")