HOW CAN I EXPLAIN THE ATTRACTION OF WET ROCKS?

OTHREE DRYSUITS

A LOVE LETTER OF SORTS…
Somewhere on the simple, spiral DNA roadmap that each of us has inside every cell in our body is a tiny snippet of code that connects us to the desires of our first human ancestors; and beyond. And somewhere in that snippet is an even smaller piece of ageless programming that yearns to belong to the sky. Secretly, and deeply in our cultural past, we envy the birds, and crave to soar above this beautiful planet and for a short while, escape the relentless pull of gravity.

This lust for flight is hardwired in each of us; it is innate, nobody is immune to it. In a few of us, the appeal, is so strong we are driven to do extraordinary things to satisfy it. I choose to cave dive; and rather than giving into that desire, that hunger for flight, by soaring above the Earth, she allows me to float inside her; deep in her underground rivers; her canyons; her dark spaces. She has shared with me her secrets, and I love her for allowing me to enter into those places, to see her wonders, touch her delicacy, become lost in her beauty.

The principles of diving are simple. Basic physics manifest in weightlessness. Water supports us. With practice, we can hover in the water column without effort. With practice, we can spin, turn, glide, soar, dive, and somersault with a carefully applied and skillful flick of our feet. The cumbersome equipment we require to be comfortable, to see, to navigate, and to breathe in water disappears and we experience a unique freedom. We really can become one with the water; one with the earth. This is a form of worship.

In clear water the overall sensation of this experience is of flight; we are flying. The ocean offers this, but caves are, for me at least, more compelling, and the water in many caves is a clear as Evian water. The sensation of flying is within easy grasp.

The features of a cave — its decorations, its furniture, its rooms, cathedrals, crawl spaces, and sculptured, fractal surfaces, float by. Art. Just art.

So caves are special, and cave diving is a privilege extended to few. It is a small club, and membership can be expensive. Earth is a jealous lover. When she accepts you and allows you inside her, she expects your total respect and monogamy; an odd resentfulness of other mistresses. I have buried too many friends whose lives have been snatched from them for no greater reason than for a brief instant, they forgot to tell her how much she meant to them, they became complacent, they forgot to be gentle with her, and forgot to submit to her vanity and ego; they did not comply to her rules. And she allowed them to perish.

Perhaps all cave-divers are running on borrowed time. I cannot say. I have given in to the Earth’s fatal attraction. I have stopped worrying about that; I have been lucky. She allows me to woe her and accepts my devotion. She has guided me, and watched me fly through places no other human has seen. I have hung motionless except for the beating of my heart, loud and persistent in my ears, and looked at scenery veiled in darkness since the beginning of time; a place that has never allowed any other human to look at it. The Earth and cave diving have given me this.

And yes, it is only wet rocks, but to me this scenery is as beautiful as any reef, any wreck — and god knows the temptation to be unfaithful is present in them — however, reefs and wrecks are simply platonic relationships; pleasant dates, a brief press of the lips at the end of our time together. Caves are the object of a deep, visceral, want; a lust; a true love.

And you, my little Barefoot Forest Imp, understand and forgive my infidelity; and for this gracefulness, I adore you too.

How to get the most from a technical diving program/course

LongO'THREE

A common question is “What skills should I practice before my class with you?” The question is basically the same regardless of the course in question: intro-to-tech, full cave, it doesn’t seem to matter.

Oddly enough, the least helpful answer, is to send out the list of skills published in the instructor’s guide, and nothing else. Well, I guess it’d be less helpful not to respond at all, but a bare list of skills without any guidance, order of importance, value, or expectation of performance, doesn’t really tell much of a story; and certainly, is unlikely to help anyone prepare in a meaningful way. For example, what does adequate predive planning (taken from the standards for a major tech agency’s Cavern Course) mean in the real world?

If you’re signed up for a technical diving class this winter, next spring or whenever, and you’re wondering how best to prepare for it, the following tips may help.

First: if you haven’t already, speak with your instructor. Ask them about the class, get an agenda… what happens on day one, day two, etc. Ask for a breakdown of what they expect you to show them on each dive. Ask about their expectations regarding performance… what’s a pass, what’s a redo? Find out how much course time is practice time!

This last point is vitally important. A good class with lots of inwater time, will get you started on the road to building good habits. For example, the key to success in an entry-level cave or advanced wreck program is having enough time doing dryland drills to get the subtleties of a task – such as body position, where to point a light, how to hand off a regulator – refined enough to demonstrate well.

Secondly: study the equipment list, work out what’s gonna be a new experience for you, and practice how to use it. Reels – essential in so many tech programs, especially cavern, cave, wreck, and deco – are not all created equal, and even students who have first-class models, get screwed by their reels almost as soon as they get into the water. If you’re determined to buy BEFORE you start the class in order to get some practice, think simple and avoid gadgets. Here’s a model I use and recommend.

lightmonkey400

Also, most reels – including the one from Light Monkey shown above – come from the manufacturer loaded with too much line. It swells in water and with use, and falls off the edge of the spool. Take off line until there’s a half centimeter minimum of reel’s (or spool’s) body showing above the line. Here’s a picture of mine…

mylightmokey-200Notice, it is a similar reel (this is the 200 and the 400 is shown above), same manufacturer, but with line removed and a loop of equipment line added for the double-ended clip to make it hang a little more easily when stowed.

Also, learn where the new gear is going to be stored. Develop the muscle memory (the habit) of knowing how to get at it and then how to restow it. Every cave instructor has watched as one of their charges spends minutes searching for a line marker or struggling to stow a backup light.

Thirdly: relax. Arrive at your class rested and ready to learn.

And lastly: There is something called “instructor-induced narcosis.” It sometimes kicks in as soon as a student’s head disappears below the surface. Most instructors are expecting it to happen, and it usually has more of a negative effect on the student than the instructor. So, don’t sweat it! Take a deep breath, work out where things went wonky, try again.

Most of all, remember grow your skills, experience, comfort zone at your pace… and have fun!

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A thought experiment concerning “team bailout” when diving CCR in a cave…

LongO'THREE

First off: Can anyone explain the rationale behind “Team Bailout?”

Hang on… that needs to be rephrased.

Let’s start with this: Is it just me or is the concept of “Team Bailout” for CCR Cave Diving just bat-shit crazy?

Yea, that’s way closer to what I was thinking…

Ok, for those of you who may not be familiar with the team bailout concept, it suggests that a buddy team diving CCRs in a cave environment – you know, wet rocks, hard limestone overhead, perhaps an hour or more from the surface – that they carry sufficient bailout gas “…to get one team member back to fresh air from the point of furthest penetration.”

In certain circumstances, this approach may sufficiently protect team members from harm, but those circumstances should not include the category of diving the vast majority of us engage in.  I believe, a better, more satisfactory practice is for EACH diver to carry MORE gas than is required to get themselves back to fresh air from the point of furthest penetration.

The arguments I’ve heard against using this more conservative tactic is: 1) carrying multiple bailout cylinders is a pain; 2) the likelihood of more than one CCR failure among a team is too slight to consider; 3) calculations for the volume of gas required in a high-stress situation adhere to a well-defined formula corrected for all variables, and therefore it is possible to calculate with a degree of accuracy sufficient to be safe.

Experience is a better guide to best practice behavior than deductive logic, and I have limited experience in this area. So, perhaps my paranoia is unjustified; but here’s a scenario we might all give some thought to before our next cave dive.

Here goes:
Three CCR divers were in the back of a low-flow cave. Each carried an aluminum 40 filled to capacity, which lumped together was enough gas to get any one of them out of the cave and back to dry land. Even at double their normal consumption rate, this was the case. Their dive was well within the parameters of team bailout therefore.

At the worst possible time, Diver A’s CCR went belly up. He could not revive it in any way, and has to bailout. The team began its swim out. A little sooner than expected, but still more than one-third of the way out, Diver A’s bailout cylinder was empty, and he asked Diver B for her cylinder. She suddenly realized that by giving it up, she will have no contingency gas herself. The surface was still a good swim away. Very reluctantly, she handed over her bottle. Momentarily distracted by her thoughts, she floated to the cave’s ceiling and took a minute to recover, which held the team’s progress to the surface still further. Stress levels in all three team members was now peaking. None of them was comfortable.

They were in fact, more small failure, one additional glitch away from a total melt-down. A surprisingly short while later, Diver A – who had been thinking for the past several minutes, what would happen if he got a bottle with a dodgy regulator or had a free-flow, and whose respiration rate had understandably elevated – once again was down to seeds and stems. This time in his second bailout. He turned to Diver C. Diver C had been thinking about this hand-off for a while. He was VERY uncomfortable donating his gas… however, he did so. Several minutes later, the team arrived in the cavern area. Diver A had barely sufficient gas to conduct a safety stop, but did so. Just as the team left the overhead, his regulator began to breath very, very hard.

On shore, while shucking their gear, the group was uncharacteristically silent, each with their own thoughts. What do you think the outcome of this incident was:

  1. This group did not cave dive together ever again
  2. This group rethought their bailout strategy
  3. This group  continued to dive team bailout

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Don’t even think about asking for an overfill in your aluminum cylinder…

LongO'THREE

I don’t trust the integrity of aluminum scuba cylinders… at least, not enough to:

  • overfill any aluminum cylinder (in fact I often under-fill aluminum stages and decompression bottles keeping below the manufacturer’s suggestions for working pressure);
  • keep them in service more than a year or two after their first hydrostatic test cycle (which is every five years where I live);
  • wander very far from a very conservative approach to the frequency of formal visual inspections, choosing instead to follow the manufacturer’s suggestions for cylinders in Heavy Service;
  • miss Eddy Current testing as part of the VIP procedure (EVEN WITH BRAND NEW CYLINDERS!);
  • be trusting of loners and rentals, especially those with the look of being in service since, and taking direct hits during, the Gulf War.

My reasons for being a “mother hen” are based on a professional ‘cover everybody’s arse’ strategy to risk management. And a certain knowledge that high-pressure vessels have an enormous potential to harm. I’ve witnessed the aftermath of two separate aluminum tank failures and have a very strong mental image of the chaos each caused. I read somewhere that the amount of energy stored in a “recreational scuba cylinder,” which one can take to mean an aluminum 80, is about the same as two WWII British military hand grenades. A sobering thought.

Of course, one should be equally cautious with steel cylinders, which have a similarly dangerous potential. However, aluminum cylinders more easily carry the scars of mild to moderate abuse in typical everyday service. Couple this with their inherently different reaction to repeated filling and emptying – aluminum’s fatigue limit – and the dramatic reduction of an aluminum cylinder’s endurance limit from several hundred thousand fills to perhaps hundreds when it is over-filled – and its potential for failure is increased.

Of course, an easy out would be to avoid using aluminum cylinders altogether, but the buoyancy characteristics of aluminum makes 80s and 40s excellent stages, bailout, and decompression bottles. Besides, avoiding their use would be a dramatic over-reaction.

Working within manufacturer’s limits and the handling guidelines they supply us, aluminum is safe for many, many more fills than any of us is likely to ask it to endure.

But we do need to be mindful of those limits and guidelines.

Luxfer, the manufacturer of a popular brand of aluminum scuba cylinders of all sizes including the ubiquitous aluminum 80 writes the following about safety and its products… all great advice!

“If the cylinder is used in heavy service then it should be inspected every four months.

“Heavy service” means any one or more of the following:

  • Cylinders being filled or “topped off” five or more times per week;
  • Rental cylinders in use during the ‘season’ and ‘off-season’ times;
  • Cylinders used wherever damage is more likely than in normal use or where the
  • care and/or maintenance is slightly below recommended care.

If the cylinder is known to have had any unusual treatment or condition, it should be immediately visually inspected, prior to its next use.

“Unusual treatment or condition” means if the cylinder:

  • Dropped, fell, was struck, was in an accident, or when the care and maintenance of the cylinder is obviously poor;
  • Was stored improperly, and shows signs of damage;
  • Has obvious corrosion since the last visual inspection;
  • Has a gouge, dent, scrape, cut, dig or, in any way, has been damaged since the last
  • visual inspection;
  • Was stored with water, material or matter inside the cylinder;
  • Shows signs of exposure to fire or high heat, including any one or more of the
  • following:
    • Charring or blistering of the paint or other protective coating;
    • Melting or charring of the metal;
    • Distortion of the cylinder and/or any cylinder accessory;
    • Melting of fuse plugs, valve handwheel, valve protector, and/or any other
  • valve component or cylinder accessory;
  • Has been partially or fully repainted or treated to hide damage and/or
  • fire damage;
  • Is known or suspected to be leaking; or,
  • Is known or suspected of having a crack.”

 

Dive Safe… be careful out there.

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Fixing a lack of skill with complex gear… Nah, try a swimming pool!

Nick Hollis in SMS75 Hollis SM harness

Nick Hollis of Hollis Gear showing some skills in swimming pool like conditions…

Few of us learned to dive without the help of a buoyancy device of some sort. Not to say that wearing a jacket-style BCD, sidemount harness, or backplate and wing automatically gave any of us pin-point control over our position in the water column: it certainly did not!

The vast majority of the divers — sport, technical, rebreather, open-circuit, whatever — earned that particular skill with patience, perhaps a little help from a buddy or mentor of some description, and a bunch of practice.

Swimming pools or ‘swimming pool-like conditions’ (warmish, reasonably calm, clear-ish, current-free shallow water), are awesome for gaining something approaching buoyancy control right from the first open-water class: and then fine-tuning that skill by return visits as often as practical. I will still take time, whenever I can, to simply “hang about” in the water. A visit to the pool is a great place to test new gear, adjust weighting, check that old favorites still work the way you want them to.

In fact, if you are an instructor looking for ways to increase student comfort, add to general diver safety, and build on the basic skills your students learn on your courses, you’d do well to offer a few extra hours of pool time regularly. I have a buddy whose open-water students leave her classes with demo-quality buoyancy control and near-perfect ‘cave trim.’ Her secret is additional pool time, which her students gladly pay a little extra for because she’s taken the trouble to explain the benefits of buoyancy control to them. They get it: they know it takes a bit of work: and they are not looking for a fast fix.

So, imagine my disappointment to see an ad for a piece of kit that is such a convoluted bunch of “Heath Robinson” engineering that at first I thought it a joke. The product, and it is real apparently, is pitched as: “An industry standard premium diving jacket, dive computer with connecting links to allow the computer and jacket to manage diving processes according to the selected settings just like an aircraft autopilot.”

What have we come to when the simplest of devices, and a little practice to master its use, has to be replaced by something with Catastrophic Failure (or something else with the initials C-F) written all over it.

Please, if you want to get your buoyancy squared away because it wasn’t taught to you as a beginner, take a cavern or intro-to-tech class from a good instructor. Contraptions that offer instant mastery through technology are like magic pills that promise to shed pounds of belly fat without diets or exercise. The word to describe this type of promise is bullshit.

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A rare honor for a dear friend

explorer-in-residence-jill-heinerth-1

Jill doing what she does…

Someone once told me that as a community, technical diving suffers from a lack of real role models. He said that’s is not that there is a particular lack of great projects going on, or important discoveries being made. “There’s a tonne of great news out there!” he said. “It’s just that the news and personalities behind it are quashed by infighting and jealousy…”

That’s a pretty damning, really bleak commentary, but during the many years that have passed between him saying it, and now, there have been times when I’ve been inclined to agree with him. However, today, the technical diving community got some great news, and perhaps we can all be a little pleased… and proud.

Jill Heinerth has been appointed EXPLORER-IN-RESIDENCE by The Royal Canadian Geographical Society. This is a first, and to quote from the RCGS website, the “Explorer-in-Residence Program [is intended] to foster greater awareness among Canadians of the expeditions and field research being carried out by the nation’s top explorers, scientists and conservationists.”

Now that is cool, I don’t care who you are… that is awesome.

Immensely pleased and proud to call Jill a friend, and to say that she and I have worked on a couple of projects together… and she helped to make them fun, safe, and productive.

Hope you will join me in wishing her all the best, and giving her what really is a well-deserved pat on the back… and perhaps a glass of nice red wine!!!

http://www.canadiangeographic.ca/blog/posting.asp?ID=2070

Want to ignore the rules? Then do this…

There really are no scuba police, and here in most of North America at least, government bodies give the diving community the closest thing to a free-rein. We can, in essence, do exactly as we please. We can dive without training, ignore warning signs, flaunt best practice, exceed both whatever certification we have and the experience earned on previous outings. We are free agents. Great stuff.

But the downside is awful. A couple of days ago, I read of another stupid death — highly preventable and caused by several breakdowns in the system… that tragic alignment of holes in the safety net that which is in place to help diving “accidents” NOT happen.

What’s frustrating about many of the deaths we read about online, in diving magazines, and in diving forums, is that the people involved had been warned. At some point, either in their training or general involvement with the diving community at large, they had been told what they had planned, was foolhardy or against best practice.

But they went ahead anyway.

Just as sad is that their behavior does have the potential to change the status quo. Their silliness may create a situation where some agency or quasi-government entity starts to pay attention to our activities… and arbitrarily start to shut things down.

I am reminded of something my mate, Wayland Rhys Morgen suggested for anyone who is about to — either figuratively or actually — hand their beer to someone and say: “Here, watch this…”

The next time you intend to deviate from best practice, take a piece of note paper and divide it into two columns. Write in block letters at the top of the left-hand column: “What people usually do.” On the right, also in block letters, write: “What I am going to do instead.” Then in the appropriate column write clear, concise language an explanation of each behavior associated with your planned dive. So, these ‘behaviors’ would cover things like analyzing and labeling gas cylinders, limiting depth and duration according to your training, recent experience, and the vagaries of the environment… stuff like that. Read it back to yourself — both columns — then sign and date it. Then give it for safekeeping to someone you trust: lover, spouse, son, daughter, best buddy, favorite cowgirl. It really does not matter much to whom, just hand it over. Tell them to give it to the people or agency that leads the inquiry should something bad happen to you on your adventure.