SCUBA Certificaton: Open Water Dive I

As many of you know (and many may not), I'm enrolled at East Carolina University's Maritime Studies Program. One of the options of the program is to pursue a track in nautical archeology. As most ships don't survive long after they're decommissioned or condemned, this requires most nautical archeologists to study their subjects where they rest, normally underwater. Thus, I've been taking Basic Scuba here at the university so I can take Scientific Diving in the spring and participate in the Summer Field Schools in 2010. The class has been rigorous and demanding for the out of shape thirty-year-old that I am. It didn't take long after leaving Trader Joe's for me to slip into a sedentary student lifestyle. I'm sure the copious amounts of North Carolina (Eastern) barbecue and beer haven't helped (this is a college town and my new friends are students after all). My academic courses are equally if not even more demanding but it’s not my brain that's necessarily out of shape. Add to that capsizing at the age of three left me terrified of open water – a fear it took me years to get over in order to enjoy sailing or swimming – and diving for me becomes one of those counter intuitive sports. Purposefully descending and breathing underwater is about as natural a behavior as jumping out of a plane, as far as I’m concerned. But, overcoming that fear, one is rewarded with an amazing experience.

Thursday (the 29th), my class of about 23, myself being the only grad student and oldest in the course, drove up to Fantasy Lake, NC to complete 3 dives to satisfy part of the 5 required for certification. Most of my classmates in the maritime program are divers or at least certified and their input has been useful. But, as my instructor promised us, nothing can prepare you for the actual experience; the fear, the adrenaline, the thrill and awe of entering a world comparative few have ever witnessed first hand.

My darling wife, Ashley, got up with me in the wee hours of the morning to see me off, fed and clothed for a chill morning of intense activity. I arrived at the dive pool just before 5:30am. I was the third of my classmates. It was ghostly sitting in the dark silence, watching the rest of the class trickle in piece meal, most silent, all thinking the same thing: how will I do today? We've trained for almost two months with the scuba gear, practicing basic maneuvers, emergency procedures, rescue protocol--something endemic to diving, everyone must know how to handle the simplest emergencies due to the inherent risk of the sport. However, all that training was in a 15' pool of heated clear chlorinated water surrounded by light blue tiled walls. Today we were going to swim at the bottom of a lake.

After an hour of assembling our gear and loading a trailer full of air tanks and equipment, including new wetsuits we'd never tested before, we caravanned northwest towards Raleigh. The drive up to the lake was uneventful save for a short stop at Bojangle's to breakfast and sign the waiver form for the lake. We arrived at the lake, a flooded quarry used exclusively for diving, both training and recreational. The water is a placid blue on an occasionally overcast day like Thursday. The gray granite cliffs surrounding most of the lake reach up to forty or fifty feet high, winding down to clumps of giant slabs and boulders until reaching the solitary narrow beach from which we would enter. The head of the program, Clint, a very experienced and serious diver, and my instructor Mike, an ex-military, more relaxed, and older than Clint, ran us through the day's itinerary. We set up our gear on a big tarp near the water then gathered for a navigation exercise using our compasses with our dive buddies. Early on in the semester, we partnered up with classmates with whom we would practice and dive with in every pool session and our five open water dives. The trick to navigating underwater, unlike on land, as there is no visible landmark, is to rely entirely on your heading and bearings while underwater, depending solely on your compass between points of navigation.

We then suited up and donned our masks, fins, and snorkels. Our first skills test was the basic snorkeling (or skin diving) techniques we learned in our first two pool sessions. The instructors allowed us to warm up to being in less visible water (visibility was maybe 10 feet) and we all gradually waded and swam out over depths that trickled off into a blue green darkness speckled with the refracting rays of sunlight. The effect was that when you looked underwater, beyond ten feet all the light above you seemed to convey in an epicenter wherever you happened to be looking. After we got comfortable with swimming in depths where you couldn't see the clearly defined bottom with blue lines every few yards, we began our skill set. These involved three tows or pushes in case you had to help an injured or unconscious skin diver. Clint had us push and tow our buddies three times between a rock and the nearest buoy, probably 20 yards away. While we had practiced this procedure at shorter distances, doing so in the west suit was an entirely new experience. To add to it, I was wearing an extra 10lbs of diving weights to counter the buoyancy of our wetsuits, more than I'd ever practiced with in class. We alternated; first, I did a fin-push where you raise your buddy's fins on your shoulders and they float on their back while you swim. Then we did a bicep-push where you grab your buddy's left bicep with your left hand and push them ahead of you. Then we did the dosey-doe, where you lock your left arm under your buddy's, your hand against their back and tow them while you swim. Embarrassingly, I was sucking air after each time. I couldn't believe how tired I already was and we weren't even done our first skill set.

Clint then had us perform three dives: feet first, a tuck, and a pike, clearing our snorkels in the two methods (blast and displacement), retrieving a rock or something from the bottom to show we'd dived to the bottom. Most of us were at a depth of around ten feet. The first dive I went down to the sloping incline of sharp angled granite boulders in search of something small enough to lift; I reached for what I assumed was a rock and nearly grabbed a fish! The fish turned and looked at me for a moment before swimming away. I snatched a fist-sized chunk of rock and surfacing cleared my snorkel with a blast of air. The second dive went fine, but the third, while surfacing with a large rock I got kicked in the face by a fellow diver. This knocked my snorkel from my mouth and I had to surface without clearing. These sort of unpredictable things are good to get out of the way early on in diving so one loses the panic response so easily triggered underwater.

We thought we were done until Clint announced he was going to teach us one more skin diving procedure: rescuing a non-responsive skin diver. It was similar to other rescues we'd done in the pool, except he wanted us to tow our buddies, while simulating resuscitation, to shallow water, remove their equipment and our own while maintaining resuscitation, then carry them out of the water in one of two ways. This was all fine and good except that I was tired already and my dive buddy has 100 lbs on me. To make matters worse, I'd selected fins that too big, which any diver will tell you, will wear your legs out far quicker than usual. I did manage however, to tow my buddy, Kyle, the roughly 60 yard circuit to the beach, though I dropped him a few times—he was a good sport about it. When we got to the beach, I noticed my new $9 watch was gone. A timing device is crucial to diving, you must maintain your time at depth to keep track of how much nitrogen is building up in your system (there is a recommended time limit to all depths). Fortunately, as we weren’t diving for more than 20minutes usually any more than 25-30 feet, it was not a big deal.

After that, we had a short break while we donned our scuba gear and split into three groups. My group would dive with Clint, ironically the more militant of the two instructors. We swam out to the nearer of striped buoys where Clint gave us his instructions. This was the deepest any of use had gone, and the first time for any of us in open water. One thing Clint was good at was not giving us time to over think, second guess, or worry too much than we already were. We descended, lining up on the deck of a sunken glass boat, 25 feet down. It was a surreal and freaky experience, diving in open water where more than ten feet in any direction, the water faded out to the unknown. It was far darker than the dive pool as we descended. I let the air out of my BC (buoyancy control-helps you float on the surface and maintain buoyancy under water) and my 10lbs dropped me quick. I equalized the pressure in my ears and sinuses, holding my nose while gently exerting pressure. When you do this, sound goes from a clogged muffled hollowness to loud waterlogged exaggeration. Lining up on the deck, kneeling, our neighbors all looked closer and larger than life – refraction increases perception of size and proximity by a third. Before we could be too worried by what was or wasn't beyond our field of vision, Clint went down the row having us clear our mask. This is something I've struggled with all semester. I've found full mask removal easier to clear than simple flooding. For some reason, when I flood my mask (rather than simply taking the whole thing off), the shock of cold water up my nose makes me want to inhale – through my nose! This usually results in me coughing through my regulator (mouthpiece) until I can collect myself enough to force air out my nose and clear the water from my mask. I'd practiced and practiced this technique, but I hadn't done the simple flood clearing in weeks, assuming it would be a full mask removal (supposedly more difficult). So, I flooded my mask got cold water shot up my nose with the pressure nearly twice that of sea level. I managed not to inhale the whole nose full but choked a bit before clearing it gradually. When I finished, Clint motioned for me to do it again and flooded my mask for me. It took me a couple of tries but I cleared it successfully, ignoring the pain of a little bit of water in my lungs. When he finished going down the line, he came back up the group having us retrieve our regulators in the two techniques (sweep & reach) while blowing a stream of bubbles (biggest rule of diving is never hold your breath). This I had no problem doing having practiced it a dozen or score times at the bottom of the pool.

Next was buddy-breathing. This technique is one of the emergency procedures used in case you or your dive buddy run out of air (one of the golden rules of diving is never dive alone). Kyle and I had practiced this several times as well, but never in wetsuits or with so much weight, or in open water! Kyle simulated being out of air first and after signaling me, I gave him my octopus (backup regulator or mouthpiece) and we swam a circuit around the boat as instructed on the surface. This is easier said than done. Kyle's larger bulk and our combined diving weights threatened to sink us as soon as we left the deck of the boat. I struggled, breathing hard, my heart pounding, desperate to avoid snagging the various lines that ran off the corners of the boat in four directions into the murky depths; eventually we finished the circuit. When Clint gave us the ascend signal, we linked arms in the Roman handshake and both began to ascend. We'd been kicking for a good minute when I looked down and the deck was only a few inches from our fins. I motioned to kick harder and took larger breaths to increase my buoyancy (I'm a sinker) and eventually we made it to the surface where I had to then, feeling out of breath, remove my regulator and inflate Kyle's BC and my own to finish the simulation, this safeguard's your buddy from unintentionally descending without any air. Before we could catch our breath, Clint ordered us to descend and line up on the deck standing in our buddy pairs. Again, standing in fins on a slippery deck of a sunken boat, not so easy. For some odd reason Kyle and I kept tilting off the deck, threatening to sink to the floor of the lake despite our comical slow motion efforts to stay in place. We repeated the exercise, this time I taking Kyle’s yellow octopus regulator and we swimming the tricky circuit before surfacing. While my loose left fin ground away at my ankle, I managed to avoid any cramps unlike the first time I tried this skill.

On the surface, Clint split our group in half and instructed Kyle and I and another buddy-pair to ditch-and-don on the surface – meaning to remove all your gear except for the weight belt and put it back on. This is easier said than done, especially since our class had only done this exercise once and had been told we wouldn’t be doing this skill at the lake. I didn’t have too had of a time with it, the trick is, your BC keeps you afloat on the surface, so, as soon as you undo the waist belt, it wants to pop off and float away. Think of trying to put on a life jacket in the water that it is super buoyant and more like a backpack than a jacket. I was grateful for the reprieve because then it was our turn to do CESA’s (controlled emergency swim ascent). This is to simulate if you run out of air (even after all the precautions to avoid this) and need to surface. The trick is to take a small breath of air and steadily exhale a stream of bubbles while ascending at the safe rate of 30ft/min. If you exceed this rate or hold the air in your lungs, you risk the greater of diving injuries, air embolism. I descended, took my breath at 20ft and slowly ascended, exhaling all the way. It was a little harder than when we did it in class, mostly because I felt winded. I ran out of air 2ft from the surface but I followed the directions and kept exhaling what little I could till I broke the surface. I got the “ok” signal and when the group was done, we swam ashore and swapped out our tanks for the next dive.

I removed my fins and staggered ashore, my full wet suit adding weight and bulk to the 60lbs of gear on my back, plus the 10lbs of led weights. We grabbed fresh air tanks and after exchanging comments about feeling too heavy in the water, I swapped my two 5lb weights for somebody’s 4lbs and reduced my weight to 8lbs. We waded back out to the water and waited for Mike to return with his first group. Kyle and I snorkeled looking for my watch for a few minutes, to no avail. Mike’s group began straggling in and he swam half way to meet us. When we were assembled, he explained the next skill set and instructed us to swim out to the further of two striped buoys. All together at the buoy, he pointed out the blurred pale outlines of a sunken tour bus to which the two striped buoys were anchored. Our final skill-set was to recover a non-responsive diver from the bottom. This is one of the more physically demanding skills, especially considering the greater depth and difference in bulk between Kyle and me. I wanted to get it over with so I nominated Kyle to descend first. The first group of buddies descended and lay prostrate perpendicular across the roof of the buss. I descended, trying to leave a little air in my BC to assist in my ascent. I went through the procedure: I waved my hands in Kyle’s face, then shook his tank (your buddy essentially plays dead the whole time, no assisting in the ascent, unlike the buddy-breathing skill). I flipped him over, linked arms Roman style and standing him up began kick my way to the surface at the gradual rate. This is one of the cooler visual effects of diving, is watching the glow of day light increase and clarity as you reach and finally break the surface, like some permeable liquid ceiling. On the surface, I removed his mask and my own, orally inflated his BC and my own, then called out “Help, non-responsive diver, somebody all 911!” and commenced simulating resuscitation, counting four beats then giving a breath. I did this while towing Kyle to the closest buoy. Mike waited for us all to surface and finish then the other half descended. It was surreal, sinking down to rest on the top of a bus—30 feet underwater! It was a slippery slimy surface, the missing windows creating dark mysterious holes where light disappeared. Kyle arrived and went through the procedure and soon we were done, both of us grinning since we knew our skills tests were complete. And as Mike put it, we all passed, because we were all still alive and unharmed.

Now came the coolest part of the dive. Mike explained the route we would take, instructing us to follow him in our buddy pairs and follow the line that led off from the front of the bus. We descended along the anchor line of the buoy, Kyle right behind Mike and me right behind him. Standing on the bottom of the lake was another surreal experience. Large chunks of granite and slate littered the sandy bottom. Looking through the front of the bus, I could see all the missing windows through to the back. The rest of the group gathered, Mike counted us and indicated to follow him. I swam behind and to the left of Kyle, avoiding the clouds of silt that our fins kicked up. Following the line, I checked my air and depth to see we were almost at 40 feet. We passed some immersed equipment that had not been salvaged when the quarry flooded, looked like a large industrial air compressor (ironic). Soon the outline of some large white object came into view, gradually revealing a sunken Cessna! The prop was gone and the inside stripped but again, you don’t expect to see these kind of things at the bottom of a quarry. I quickly left my initials in the layer of slime and silt covering the fuselage (as I could see so many had done), and we swam the wingspan. We went on and the bottom began to slope down peaking in a little gorge. Mike stopped to count us again before swimming down into the ravine where giant angled rocks lay on top of each other. As we got close to the very bottom, the temperature dropped dramatically! We’d been told the temperature was around 68F, but that pit felt at least 10-20 degrees colder. We ascended the other side and followed the yellow line to arrive at the glass bottom boat that had held such apprehension on my first dive. Approaching it from the bottom gave me a whole other perspective and I swam around it a bit before following our instructor back towards the shore. Over all it was a truly awe inspiring experience.

We emerged, all of us chattering about how cool the last dive was and lumbered to the beach, removing fins and getting out of our scuba gear. In a stroke of luck, one of our group, Matt (a fellow PG Marylander) found my watch while making his way toward shore! I thanked him and after removing my BC and tank made a beeline for my bag. I guzzled some water – the dry compressed air sucks up moisture as you exhale – before devouring the salami sandwich Ashley made for me. We were the first group to finish and we all felt like victorious veterans, comparing our experiences and observations. One or two at a time we struggled out of our clinging wet suits, another physical challenge as the suit seems very hesitant to let you go. Gradually the other groups returned and we packed up, rinsed our gear at the top of the hill and loaded up in the vans.

The return trip was uneventful save for the observation that this group of barely more than strangers (other than our dive buddies) suddenly had a bond suddenly thrown together by simply having ridden together and thus being assembled as a group to dive together. As with all very specific experiences, that shared experience created a natural camaraderie that had not existed even hours before. We got back to the dive pool around 5pm, stowed our gear and trickled out the same way we’d arrived, some going to their cars others walking to their dorms. I drove home exhausted and exhilarated. When I got home and hung up my jacket, I looked around and was conscious for the first time of the difference between moving around, seeing, and physically experiencing my surroundings in air, as opposed to water. Cliché as it sounds, its true when divers talk with that little glint of awe in their eyes, it really is a whole other world down there: you move in a medium 8 times denser than air, withstand atmospheric pressure that increases 100% every 33 feet, sound travels 4 times faster, heat is whisked away 25 times faster than air, and objects look 1/3 closer and larger than life – even colors change, red being the first wavelength to go.

I can’t wait for the second open water dive in two weeks, sixteen miles off shore of Morehead City. We’ll be diving to 60 feet on a purposefully sunk Vietnam era ship of 165ft. Mike says if we’re lucky, we’ll see some sand tiger sharks hanging out in the old bridge of the ship. We’ll see. I’ll let you know in two weeks. While we couldn't take any pictures, I did find some videos of previous groups led by Clint. You'll see the bus and the plane. Enjoy!

WTF!? It's Called Health Care, Why Doesn't Anyone Important Seem To?

Those who know me are aware how much I abhor the perversion of our language by text-speak, especially after seeing it show up in senior papers I once graded. But, if ever I heard a WTF moment, it was when my darling wife came home this morning from tutoring to inform me that the Senate had voted against a public option—twice. “Twice!” was my indignant response, “Twice?!” My blood pressure surged, my already ruddy face bloomed a furious hue. My limbs trembled.

Nothing since the re-election of Bush had disturbed such a response from my dizzied brain. And even that was akin to watching a train slowly approaching a car stuck on a railroad crossing—you could see it coming. But this! This obvious corruption of what we so boldly call a democracy (even if by definition it is a democratic republic)? Where is that democratic spirit? And I don’t mean a partisan one. If a majority of Americans are in favor of a public option, if a majority of doctors want a public option (and at least they take an oath to put patients first), then why, oh why, do our congressmen strike it down. Beyond the foregone conclusion that their self interest is not at stake, seeing as how they get health care for life; it is their real self interest in the form of millions of dollars of lobbying from the industry that sways their pendulur minds.

Notice the word industry. Hospitals claim they “lose money” because of existing public programs. But if profit is money one hasn’t seen before, and profits are lower than previously (an inherent risk in a capitalist economy), there was no money “lost” simply less new money gained. This in turn begs the question: why do hospitals and insurance companies profit from human suffering. All insurance is, in essence, placing bets against yourself that you will befall misfortune, and then when you are right, the insurance company may pay out, but assuredly to your greater expense. Are we really in this 21^st century still able to allow our health to be exhorted by faceless conglomerates of greed? If a mugger walks up to me and puts a gun to my head and demands my wallet, he is demanding money for my continued existence. How different in principle is the absurd cost of premiums and deductibles for simple visits or necessary procedures? Demanding money for my continued existence… people suffer and die due to the carnivorous appetite for profits. That time must pass to be read in history text by an insured generation.

“Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.”

I’m sure some of you are labeling me a socialist, as many do our good president. Well, you’re partly correct. But regardless of my ideologies, I’ll gladly pay for a service I need or want. But, I expect a reasonable price and a decent service. Health care is not a product, it is a right. Shame on those “blue dog” democrats who buy into the woes of insurance, hospital, and pharmaceutical concerns. Corporations don’t vote, citizens do. Yet even with a democratic president and and congressional majority, things stand still.

Are we truly half way to a fascist state? Because we’re already suffering from a corporatist economic ideology. The only insurance that can cover or prevent that suffering is sagaciously entrusted in our constitution and our God given rights. Stand up my fellow Americans, and demand what you work so hard for. Enamour yourself with the First Amendment and speak out on your own behalf.

If we don’t do it, if we don’t demand a fair deal, no one will listen to the one man working hardest for us.

Juneteenth: Part II

I awoke today with a sense of impending history in the air. The fresh fallen snow helped to hide the barren gray ugliness that winter can have. But we must winter before rebirth in the spring. It is no mistake that our culture's most momentous and extravagant holiday falls within days of the solstice, within days of the darkest day, we celebrate the warmest of virtues. So the snowflake laden branches and white buried grass seemed to reach out and beacon a respectful silence from the land itself. What a brilliant contrast, what a beautiful blend: that a man who is both black and white, who is of this nation, and but a step removed from humanity's nursery; who has been raised here and abroad, that this man is now the leader of the free world. The Free World...

It is exciting to be an American in these trying days.

For the first time I find myself inspired by a leader, a leader we chose as a people. We take our peace and stability for granted, we Americans. This is why we quake when Wall Street fumbles bounces and flutters. That we have a peaceful transition of power every four or eight years, without the threatening shadow of violence or upheaval; that is truly unique and amazing in the history of cultures and nations. I never realized until today that one of the things celebrated in an inauguration is PEACE! A peaceful transition. What a luxury; what a blessing.
Today I also felt inspired, encouraged, reassured, and excited. It struck me, Why, that's what a good leader does. In times of trouble, she/he leads, sets an example, reassures, and takes action. Our nation has ached for true leadership.
Yet, with all the jubilation, all the excitement, the satisfying departure of a bleak chapter of our history--I am not disillusioned. He is still a man, and he is fallible. My heart goes out to him and his family. So tonight, before I take my weary body to bed, I will do something I have never done before. I will pray for our new president and his family. I will pray that he take sustenance and strength from the trust and faith the America People have in him, that he will continue to seek guidance from the wisdom of leaders past, that he will find in himself that which he needs to overcome doubt and cynicism.

WE are America.
WE are the people.

And as the People have chosen to put him in power, so he is bound to answer the needs of his people.

I will also pray that we all may live up to expectation and fulfill our unbridled potential.

May we seek in each other and in our deeds that spark that makes us great.

Congratulations, Mr. President, your presence is much appreciated.