All's Well That Ends Well!
Rudy Lacchin
All's Well That Ends Well!
(submitted anonymously to DiveLog, newsletter of the United Divers of
New Hampshire)
Most divers believe that safe diving is just a matter of keeping an eye
on the ads and buying the newest products as soon as they become
available. But, as a recent adventure of mine shows, mishaps can happen
to even the best equipped and most scrupulously careful divers.
We were wreck diving - even at its best, one of the most challenging and
dangerous diving specialties - on the wreck of the Weetamo. The Weetamo
lies at a relatively shallow depth compared to most of the wrecks I
dive - indeed I have made the dive with nothing more than a single steel
120 and a pony. But this time was special because we were planning on
deep penetration - to confirm or disprove, once and for all, the
existence of the almost legendary, but never yet reached by divers,
treasure room.
A challenging dive to be sure, but I was up to it, with dual, totally
redundant 100's, one with a slingshot and redundant regulator, an 18 cf
pony and a 30 cf Oxygen stage bottle. Some divers prefer to leave the
Oxygen stage bottle hanging from the boat, but having had one swiped
during our unsuccessful (we couldn't find it) assault on the Doria, and
having lost another when the string broke, I find it safer to carry it
with me.
Each regulator was equipped, of course, with an octopus alternate second
stage and redundant SPGs. Since, with so many regulators, it might just
be possible in a moment of extreme stress and narcosis, to become
confused, I make it a practice of color coding mine, by painting color
bands around each second stage (since the Poseidon 5000's I prefer have
a tubular shape, this makes them look like a giant resistor, an effect
that I, as an electronics as well as diving whiz, find extremely
pleasing). Primary One is Blue-Gold-Blue. Primary One Alternate is
Blue-Gold-Red. Redundant Primary is Gold-Blue-Blue. Redundant Alternate
is Gold-Blue-Red. And so forth, you get the system. To absolutely
eliminate any chance of error, I also mark each second stage - P for
Primary, PA for Primary Alternate etc.
We were not even in the water when the first mishap occurred. My buddy
decided to scrub the dive, problem with his number four regulator. I
decided to make the dive alone. The novice diver, fresh from basic
certification class and still hanging slavishly on the instructors every
word, might find this alarming. But, for a well equipped, experienced
diver like myself, it's a piece of cake.
I made a fast descent and soon found myself outside the massive hulk,
staring into the dark gaping hole that led to the interior. I checked
my lights - Primary, redundant, primary backup, redundant backup,
backup, backup backup - and was about to plunge into the darkness when
it happened. I inhaled and nothing happened. I was out of air! I
quickly switched to my redundant tank, only to find it was dead. Or was
the valve off? I reached back, but the lights on my "roll bar"
regulator protector (a nifty idea, incidentally, I borrowed from a jeep)
blocked the way.
Nothing to do but switch to the pony. I began an emergency ascent even
as I swapped regulators. I got a scant half breath out of it. That
left only the Oxygen stage tank - Red-White-Blue-Red. Normally it would
be suicide to use it at depth, but in this case, as I was diving just
past the limit for straight O2, and I had already ascended part way, it
was a calculated risk worth taking. I whispered a prayer as I shoved it
in my mouth, and was rewarded with a healthy whoosh of air and a full
breath. Saved. The emergency passed, I slowed my rate to the recommended
60 fpm and continued my ascent. But something was wrong. Was I more
winded than I realized? Running out of air, I have found, always causes
a dramatic increase in my consumption, once I've found the alternate
source, that is. I was breathing so fast I was almost hyperventilating,
without seemingly, finding and sustenance in the air. It took me
several seconds to figure out why. I was breathing Argon!
Obviously, while gearing up, I'd somehow switched my Argon dry suit
inflation bottle with my Oxygen stage bottle. An understandable enough
error to be sure, but terribly inconvenient just now. Though in other
ways I was lucky this time. The last time it had happened my long johns
had been oil stained from some emergency road side repairs enroute, and
the stains had spontaneously ignited when the high pressure Oxygen hit,
blowing one leg of my dry suit open and removing all the hair from my
leg as slickly as the best depilatory cream. I'd learned my lesson that
time. Since then I make a point of not using my dry suit underwear for
coveralls.
The Argon was flushing out the CO2, and hence relieving the urge to
breath but it wasn't giving any Oxygen in return. In fact with every
breath it was flushing what little Oxygen remained in my lungs. I had a
hard choice now. A free ascent with no Oxygen in my lungs or continue
breathing the argon which would at least keep my lungs ventilated and
the CO2 levels down. I chose the latter, and made an uneventful ascent,
passing out shortly before reaching the surface.
No problem. When I dive, my buddies know enough to keep a sharp eye out
for me, just in case of such minor difficulties. And besides, when I
break the surface, they tell me the effect of all my lights bursting out
is quite dramatic. Sort of like standing point blank in front of a
parked 747 when they switch on the landing lights, a pilot friend says.
Add the frantic beeping of my multiple dive computers screaming for a
safety stop, and you've got a real attention getter, that just about
guarantees I won't be floating long before someone picks me up.
I few minutes later I was aboard the boat, drifting gently back to
consciousness to the laughter and good natured kidding of my buddies.
Looked like I'd be buying the beers again when we got back to shore!
It wasn't hard to figure out what the problem had been. I'd started the
dive breathing from pony One, Red-Gold-Blue, not Primary One
Blue-Gold-Red. Or was it Blue-Gold-Blue? The colors all look so
different under water. When I thought I was switching to the pony, I
was going to my Primary - which had never been turned on! The blame for
that, of course, rest squarely on my absent buddy.
Well, we never did get into the treasure room. Looks like that will
have to wait. Meantime, have you checked out the specs on the new
Cis-Lunar rebreather? Throw away your dive tables, punch in the partial
pressure (whatever that is?) and go as deep as you like, 800 feet as
easily as eight and no decompressing - the machine does it for you! I've
got my order in already - Ostfriesland, look out!
Keith Lawrence
> Found this lurking in a dusty corner of my hard disk...
>
> All's Well That Ends Well!
> (submitted anonymously to DiveLog, newsletter of the
Thanks for that Rudy - that has got to be one of the best trolls I've
seen in ages.
K