At 09:11 AM 1/24/02 -0500, Lee wrote:
>Regarding safety gear, it's not unusual for divers in this area to lack much
>in the way of rescue equipment. It's rare to see even a safety sausage, let
>alone strobes, reflective devices and the like. I didn't even own a safety
>sausage before our trip to Coz (I now have a larger than average one that
>goes on all dives with me), only carry a sound device on dives that require
>one and still don't have a reflective device. I do carry at least two
>lights on every dive.
Like Lee, I have a larger than average safety sausage (I don't say
this to women who don't dive) courtesy of Bjorn Vang Jensen at the
'99NEDfest, which I got to use while diving with Lee and Mika at the Delray
Ledges off Boynton Beach, a ways north of where Lee lives. Although I
don't usually carry a safety sausage, the Ft. Lauderdale area has enough
boat traffic, enough follow the ball current diving, and high enough swells
to make carrying a safety sausage prudent, particularly on an unlucky dive
day. The Delray Ledges was our second dive of the day following the Wreck
of the Beck where I managed to get my first stage entangled in a mass of
monofilament hanging from the bow of the wreck. Fortunately, along with a
small, razor sharp dive knife which I'd rather not wield behind my back I
also carry a pair of EMT shears. Still given the difficulty of the
entanglement, in snipping my way out of the mess I had adequate time to
reflect both on virtues of buddy diving and that this wasn't one of my
luckier dive days. (Since these wrecks attract both fishing boats and
divers, there is always a lot of monofilament on them, and following Lee's
good example I had already begun collecting it days before which I still
do, but let's move on to the Delray Ledges.)
Every year I have my dive gear overhauled, but while great care is
taken to overhaul regulators sometimes I think the techs may not give
enough care to gauges and autoinflators. I'd had trouble with a burst disk
on a depth gauge that popped on a plane years before so when I checked my
spg a couple of minutes into the Delray Ledges dive and saw air bubbles in
it, I knew this wasn't a good sign. At the same time I noticed that the
cable tie (those things which also hold your second stage to your
mouthpiece. After a mouthpiece incident, I carry these with me in my
camera case, but also I had one just barely attached to my scissors which I
could have used. Unfortunately, I tend to get more stupid and forgetful
underwater, and June 8, 2000 was no exception.) which held my low pressure
inflator to my bc had broken off so my bc was open to the ocean. Granted,
these are pretty trivial problems, and not so long ago nobody dove with an
spg or a bc, but I couldn't get rid of the feeling that this wasn't my
lucky day. Besides since this was a follow the ball drift dive, I knew if
I became separated from the ball, keeping afloat while looking for the boat
and watching out for other boat traffic would be one added difficulty that
I didn't need. So,candyass that I am, I signaled Lee that I was going up,
ascended to ~20 feet, blew up Bjorn's big safety sausage, and started my
safety stop. The boat was waiting for me after my safety stop, and I
boarded wondering if my embarrassment was over. No it wasn't, after
sitting for almost three quarters of an hour in the boat's diesel fumes, I
welcomed everyone back with a big technicolor yawn off the stern. As a
lagniappe to my embarrassment, we were all wearing DAN computers for a
study they were doing (all the dues money doesn't go into the opulent Peter
Bennett center), and I ended up having to call a DAN employee to say that
my 10 minute dive hadn't left me bent. The DAN rep said, "So then you're
telling us that you managed a seven minute dive and a three minute safety
stop without getting bent. Very good, very good!" ...but in the
background I'm almost sure I heard some snickering.
Hmm, well this thread is about abandoned divers so here are my two
best stories. (Go on if you're pressed for time, they're not that
good.) On February 14, 1993 (aren't log books great :-)), I was diving in
Cozumel with the former Galapago's dive operation Scuba Cozumel on one of
their cattle boats, Happy Bubble, the name of which I guess reflected on
how close it was to sinking or how upset the owners would be when it
did. It coughed and sputtered to Paradise Reef where the engine died while
we were diving. One would have expected it to float along in the current
with us while we were diving, but it was no where around when I came
up. Many of the cattleboat passengers quickly assembled as we drifted
north, and within minutes as we watched other divers get picked up by other
operations, the discussion turned to where the Happy Bubble might be and
whether we should swim to shore against the advice of the DM who apparently
was with some of the cattle that had strayed from the herd. Feeeesh has
pointed out to me that before being swept on to Cuba, we would have bumped
into San Miguel, but since this was my first trip to Cozumel that wasn't
clear to me. After only a little more than half an hour we saw the Happy
Bubble chugging towards us, and everyone seemed so glad to see it that
they forgot their irritation. As it turns out, the motor died and needed
some attention before the boat driver could get it going again. Having a
macho personality and a lot of self-confidence, the boat driver decided
not to inform anyone, so even though he had a radio, he decided to assume
the risk of not being able to repair the boat and left us in the
water. Being an interested party, I wish I had been consulted about this
decision, but I guess that's what releases are for.
The following is a snorkeling tale that like the tale above
involves less than full abandonment, but which my non-swimming, nds,
Brooxie found more exciting than she had anticipated. A few years ago on
St. Martin Brooxie, Heather (a dive buddy), and I signed up for a trip to
Anguilla which promised coral reef snorkeling and cocktails to sharpen our
drinking skills. The group we went to Anguilla with, none of whom we knew,
seemed very enthusiastic about snorkeling and the little craft which were
going to take us out about a third of a mile off the beach were quickly
filled. The ride out was quite bumpy and I was eager to get into the water
as was Heather. Brooxie, however, was a lot more reluctant as were all of
the other passenger who changed their minds about getting into the
water. When Heather followed me over to the reef, I asked her where
Brooxie was, and she said, "Brooxie went back to the beach in the boat with
everyone else." I believed her because the swells were very high, and we
couldn't even see Anguilla except when we were on the crest of one.
Unfortunately, Heather was wrong. Brooxie had gotten into the
water, and when she tried to get back into the boat, the boat driver told
her to, "Go catch up with your friends." Once we were out of sight and
earshot, however, this became a lot more difficult for her and the slight
western current didn't help things. When we finally saw Brooxie, Heather
was as surprised as I was, and Brooxie was not a happy snorkeler. Being a
non-swimmer, Brooxie was not at all pleased to have waves breaking over her
head, and the look in her eye made me a bit anxious about whether she'd
want to go on more dive trips and snorkeling excursions. Well, to their
credit the snorkeling operation sent back the boat, which was supposed to
have been there continuously, and Brooxie and Heather took the ride
back. Having had my ample behind beaten on the way out, I took a pass on
the ride back and told them I'd just snorkel in, and with that they
left. Being old and fat, I was amazed at how far west the current took me
before I got to the beach, and I was very glad that Brooxie had made the
effort to look for us and didn't just allow herself to be carried away.
To this day she doesn't know how unhappy I was with the snorkeling
operation that left her to look for her friends, and outside of Southpoint
and Subtropic which allegedly (I don't know the outcome of the lawsuit)
together delivered a tank of carbon monoxide enriched air to the
unfortunate Paul Klaus who died from it, I've concealed it from her that
other dive shops also occasionally kill their clients, so don't wise her up
at the NEDfest. Actually a couple of years later I went out with
Southpoint as part of a DM course, and I was favorably impressed with their
procedures for checking people back into the boat, so I don't want to
badmouth them, but if anyone knows the disposition of the case and whether
either Subtropic or Southpoint was found liable, I'm very curious.
Okay, I've laid myself open to lots of harsh criticism for bad
things I do and good things I fail to do, but if you aren't using the
available technology to check for CO in each tank you use breathe that you
don't fill yourself, please go easy when you wale on me. Oops, here's a
piece of advice Strike's story reminded me of. If you're on a diveboat
from which the DM expects everyone to do a back roll at the same time,
don't sit down-wind of a newbie.
DPTNST,
John
|
