Name: Bret Gilliam
Email:
Bio: Bret Gilliam has been professionally involved in the diving industry since 1971. logging more than 18,000 dives worldwide since he started diving in 1958. His background includes scientific expeditions; military/commercial projects; operating hyperbaric treatment facilities, liveaboard dive vessels and luxury yachts; ownership of retail dive stores and a Caribbean resort; and filming projects for movies, TV series and documentaries. Additionally, he is ex-Chairman of the Board of Directors of NAUI, former CEO of UWATEC, and recently retired as President of International Training Inc. (TDI, SDI, ERDI) when he sold the company in February 2004. Bret is a prolific writer and photographer, covering various subjects related to diving. He has been published in virtually every diving magazine in the U.S., Europe and Asia, as well as National Geographic, Sports Illustrated, Outside, Time, Playboy, and others. His most recent book "Diving Pioneers & Innovators: An In-Depth Series of Interviews" (New World Publications was released in November 2007 and is available through Undercurrent. Bret has twice been the recipient of NAUI's Outstanding Contribution to Diving Award, and the Beneath the Seas Foundation has honored him five years in a row from 2005 to 2009 by naming him a Legend of the Sea. He is also included in "Who's Who In Scuba Diving" by Best Publishing and was elected to membership in the prestigious Explorers Club. Now living in Maine, Bret is president of the consulting corporation Ocean Tech.
Posts by Bret Gilliam
- Rapid breathing, hyperventilation
- “Wild-eyed” look
- White-knuckle gripping; muscle tension
- Rapid, jerky, disjointed movements
- Irritability, unreasonableness
- Fixation, repetitive behavior
- High treading, attempts to leave the water
- “Escape to the surface” behavior
- Stalling
- Imaginary gear problems or ear problems
- Contact maintenance (e.g.. clutching swim ladder, anchor line, etc.)
Stress in Diving
January 22nd, 2012
I don’t want to participate in any sport in which my
species is not at the top of the food chain.
Ken Fonte
Stress in diving is probably the central problem in
the accidents and resulting injuries and fatalitiesthat occur to divers . . .
Art Bachrach and Glen Egstrom
STRESS
Many divers do not seem to place traditional activities in the context of stress-inducing scenarios. Diving is supposed to be fun, right? The following passage is excerpted from Bachrach and Egstrom’s (1987) Stress and Performance in Diving:
“We will cover your nose and eyes with a rubber and glass cup that will give you tunnel vision and prevent breathing through your nose. A snorkel which is partially filled with water will increase breathing resistance, especially when you work harder. A rubber suit will increase your surface area and your buoyancy while creating a restriction over each of the body’s joints. (A partial adjustment will be made by fastening 15-20 pounds (6.8-9.1 kg) of lead to your waist.) Fins for your feet will make walking more difficult and require more energy when swimming. A buoyancy compensation device will provide additional drag, especially when it is inflated to increase your buoyancy. Approximately 40-50 pounds (18.2-22.7 kg) of steel or aluminum will be fixed between your shoulder blades by means of a backpack with a series of straps and buckles, which will terminate somewhere under the buoyancy compensator near the weight belt buckle. A regulator with various and sundry hoses and gauges will be attached to the tank and will cause you to breathe against an added resistance both during inhalation and exhalation. Various other items, such as knives, gauges, goody bags, cameras, spear guns, gloves, hoods and booties will be added for your comfort and convenience.”
These learned authors (by this humorous accounting) have accurately placed into perspective the realities of the stressful environment that scuba divers willingly subject themselves to. By necessity our sport is “equipment intensive” and simply donning that equipment can produce levels of stress far in excess of what the average person may be comfortable with. Indeed, divers have been observed to reach heart rates approaching 200 beats per minute… nearly 3.5 times the normal rate, just gearing up!
Technical diving not only subjects the participants to added stress but the deeper environment also makes coping with such performance detriments critical. In our discussions we are most concerned with recognizing the early effects of stress and dealing with the effective management of these stimuli underwater.
Stress is variously defined: McGrath (1970) describes it as “a result of an imbalance between the demands placed upon an individual and the capacity of the individual to respond to the demands.” Sells (1970) states, “For a situation to be stressful the individual must perceive the consequences of his failure to be important.” These two views provide perspectives from both the physical and mental effects and clearly show the potential for compound stress stimuli to be at work simultaneously in the diver. Smith (1979) provides a succinct overview, “in the context of human behavior, stress might be regarded as a force that tends to break down an individual’s ability to perform. Physical stress tends to weaken or injure the diver; psychological stress leads to behavior impairment.”
The role of stress in technical diving applications cannot be ignored. Typical reactions to stress include such signs as rapid breathing or hyperventilation, the consequence of which should be immediately apparent. Importantly, stress is so varied to individuals that even what may be considered a “routine” problem can be highly stressful in some divers. Bachrach and Egstrom (1987) describe stress as “basically learned” and this perception is learned through “modeling” behavior. If your mother was afraid of reptiles, this phobia may well be passed along to you subconsciously. Likewise, many of the public has an inherent dread or horror of sharks or moray eels with no actual experience to justify such fear. Experienced resort guides think nothing of hand-feeding eels or swimming with sharks but to the uninitiated the mere appearance of such a creature can rapidly induce stress reactions that can lead to near panic.
We all probably have a few skeletons rattling around in our mental closets… some that we may not have even a vague recognition of. Well-experienced divers have reported extreme anxiety in their first encounter with “silting-out” situations in caves or wrecks. Willful control of this stress anxiety through discipline and fallback on training can prevent escalation to a threat scenario.
SOURCES OF STRESS
“Time pressure” is a classic method used by psychologists to alter experimental testing and induce error by test subjects. Problems that are easily accomplished become increasingly difficult and sometimes impossible if the element of time is introduced as an opponent. Diving, especially deep diving, is time dependent: we only have so much allotment due to constraints of decompression and/or gas supply.
This emphasizes the importance of dive planning so that orderly progression of the dive is maintained within the dive envelope calculated. Deviations from the plan can cause rapid acceleration of time pressure stress inducements. This is true not only for the dive itself but for pre-dive activities such as gearing up. Do not allow yourself to be hurried into mistakes. How many times have you observed divers entering the water without a mask or without fins? Simply putting the gear on an empty cylinder without checking its pressure happens too often.
“Task loading” is another factor well known to produce errors in performance. Simple enough: give the diver more projects (tasks) to do than he reasonably can accomplish in the time period allotted. Or give him competitive, multiple jobs that require him to do two or more things at the same time. Divers are already burdened with monitoring gauges, keeping track of their position underwater (pure navigation and also depth trim), noting the performance of a buddy, etc. Add to this equation an underwater camera system or duties requiring written observations and we have a fairly well “task loaded” diver before any contingencies may arise. And let’s remember that all this activity is being attempted in water deep enough to have effects from narcosis and gas density for breathing purposes.
Diver in strong current
Environmental considerations such as current, cold water or reduced visibility will all contribute to stress loading. Further, physical exertion to deal with such environmental detriments and any normal exertion on the dive will lead to compounding of stress factors.
Equipment alone can be a primary source of stress inducement simply due to its bulk, weight, drag etc. Take note of the experienced diver whose gear is streamlined and well organized. This individual will be wearing a BCD selected for its suitability for the dive situation. Tropical wall diving in warm water is far more easily accomplished with a light wet suit (2mm) or dive skin with a neoprene vest. Combining this with the newer editions of BCD’s that feature less volume, form fitting styles and a full-foot power fin eliminates the needless bulk of heavier wet suits, booties etc. Gauges conveniently mounted in a single console with a dive computer provide easy viewing and no distractions of arm or wrist attached devices. Combining the “octopus” second stage into one of the inflator/second stages further streamlines the diver. A light-weight belt sized for neutral buoyancy at low tank pressures (to facilitate safety and/or decom stops) completes the package.
Obviously, this equipment package must be modified as we deal with cold water, cave or wreck situations but the emphasis on effective management of equipment should be obvious. Consider the equipment stress of the diver outfitted for deep water mixed gas wreck diving: we see him in a dry suit, dual 120 cu. ft. cylinders, redundant regulators and gauges, redundant BCD’s and inflators, heavy weight belt, lift bags, decompression reels, and, in many cases, stage bottles of Nitrox and oxygen clipped to his rig. This individual may well have in excess of 200 pounds (91 kg) of equipment strapped to him.
All this adds up to a diver who is heavily predisposed to performance- limiting detriments before he ever leaves the surface. Indeed, this individual may already have exceeded his physical limits to safely conduct a dive simply due to the equipment load he has strapped on. Is this a comfortable, relaxed diver? Maybe… but add a rough sea and a pitching boat with a violently surging swim platform or ladder, and unless this diver is a superior physical specimen, it will be a major stress loading activity to deal with the equipment and get into the water safely.
This leads into the current debate about what equipment is necessary for deep diving. Many experts do have some concerns about trends that exhibit a fascination for equipment-intensive outfitting far in excess of the practical requirements of the dive. At some plateau, the point of diminishing returns is reached: is carrying 300 cu. ft. of gas effective if the performance detriment by the sheer weight/size/drag of such gear requires the additional gas supply? In 1990, I deliberately chose a single cylinder (115 cu. ft.) and regulator package to lesson my equipment load on my record 452 fsw (137 m) compressed air dive. With proper breathing techniques etc. I was able to comfortably complete the dive on this reduced rig. Some would argue that redundancy is a requirement at such extreme depths but with DIN fittings I was not concerned with a regulator failure at the valve. Therefore, the physical stress and distraction of extra equipment to me was not justified. I wanted to carry enough gas with me to do the dive, obviously, but the single cylinder provided that for me and I was far more comfortable in the water. This was over 21 years ago and today an abundance of alternative gear options exist.
Logically, deep divers must carry the gas volumes necessary to do the dive plan with an adequate safety margin. Extended decompression in colder water will dictate larger gas storage carried by the diver but we caution our readers to carefully weigh the equipment stress load with operational requirements of the dive site. There will always be debate on what equipment is necessary but a perspective on what is realistically matched to the dive plan must be encouraged.
An experienced diver dresses for the occasion as it were. A tuxedo is not required for a backyard barbecue. Veteran divers who have access to the most advanced gear will not hesitate to simplify a gear set when conditions allow. My record dive to 452 feet was focused on a specific goal and was of limited duration. In such extreme depths on air, I balanced my gas volume needs based upon vast experience against my performance ideals dictated by a stripped-down and low-drag configuration gear set. In contrast, Sheck Exley’s record mixed gas dive to 881 feet had totally different requirements due to cold water, multiple gas switches, extreme depth and drastically extended decompression time. Both dives were extremely hazardous and conducted solo, but both were successful, in part, by balancing equipment packages to the precise operational need.
Divers should be aware in intimate detail of their personal gas consumption rates at a range of depths and dive situations. Likewise, a consideration of their thermal comfort and suit needs must be plugged into the equipment equation. For Caribbean divers conducting multi-level drop-off wall excursions to depths up to 200 fsw, a single BCD is probably adequate with an oversized single cylinder and a regulator with DIN fittings. Some would like the redundancy of a Y-valve for regulator back-up. Fine…we are still dealing with a manageable gear package. The same dive conducted on northeast wreck will obviously call for an expanded gear set including doubles, dry suits etc. But let’s always keep in mind the common sense rule of equipment stress: Match your gear set to your operation.
Diver in a cave
Ego threat stress is significant as well in our dive planning. Smith (1979) notes, “An individual can be effectively destroyed by tearing down self-esteem, pride or ego. . .” The overextension of capabilities by personal challenge or peer group pressure is a leading contributory factor to deep diving accidents. Individuals must seek at all times to do dives within their own limitations. One veteran diver relates the 1988 case of an experienced northeast coast wreck diver who elected to sit out the last dive of the day as conditions worsened. Unconcerned by any supposed negative peer reactions, he was complimented for his good judgment in knowing when to quit.
We must not let perceived ego threats intrude on our good judgment. Divers should not encourage others to participate in deep diving activities with which they are uncomfortable. The emotionally mature diver can abstain from diving in any situation with no attendant ego damage. Smith (1979) puts it best: “The truly mature person can do this even when others may extend themselves further into the situation because of either their superior ability or their own foolishness. The threat to one’s ego when one must back away from a challenge can be quite stressful, and tolerance to this stress is important in diving . . . A diver who is incompetent and knows it may be stressful. An incompetent diver may also be stressful to other divers who know about the incompetency. A diver may even stress companions into death by threatening their ego through constantly challenging them to test their limits to save their pride.”
EFFECTS OF STRESS
Even a passing review of the material will demonstrate that sources of stress are varied and quite probably unlimited. Now we shall briefly look at the behavioral mechanics of stress and the resulting mental narrowing. As we heap stress loads on our diver he becomes less sensitive to his environment and less able to intelligently focus on problems. These interferences with mental thought processes manifest in several classic ways:
“Perceptual narrowing” whereby the diver is unable to notice or deal with subtle developing aspects of a situation and perceives only the grossest or more obvious elements of a problem. At depth, the effects of such narrowing are more serious. A diver who finds himself unable to maintain neutral buoyancy and continues to fixate on depressing the inflate button of his BCD to no avail has lost the intellectual ability to perceive another solution to his problem.
“Cognitive or analytical narrowing” whereby the diver is hampered in his ability to analyze a problem. Example: a diver barely reaches his decompression stage bottle because he was low on air. As he begins his 20-foot (6.1m) stop, he has trouble breathing but the indicated pressure is 2500 psi. Under sufficient stress he may not realize that the valve is not open all the way or that switching to the “octopus” would solve the problem.
“Response narrowing” occurs when the diver is unable to focus skills and knowledge upon problems. This typically manifests with loss of poorly learned skills or behavior. Overlearned, reflex action type skills are retained longest. The obvious importance of drills and skill repetition until reactions to certain situations are second nature cannot be overemphasized.
“Panic” is usually described as unreasoning fear, the ultimate plateau of mental narrowing. Smith (1979), “As stress increases, the diver’s ability to diagnose and respond to them properly may diminish accordingly. In any stressful situation, it is critical for the individual to break out of this escalating cycle as quickly as possible and early detection is important. Thus, it is desirable to recognize the early symptoms of stress in your own behavior and in the behavior of others before these symptoms reach panic proportions. Panic is the end of the line. It is usually terminal and contagious.”
SIGNS OF STRESS
SUMMARY
The anticipation of problem situations in a dive and the ability to adopt contingency plans calmly and rationally are vital in all levels and types of diving. Experience plays a great role in the individual’s ability to deal with stress and to formulate alternative reactions to threat scenarios presented. Overlearning of all relevant skills and complete familiarization with equipment is necessary. If overlearning can be taken to its highest level, then much of the reactive behavior in an emergency will be reflexive and not require conscious thought processes. Smith (1979) notes, “Overlearning takes all doubt out of human performance under stress as far as that particular skill is concerned. This not only greatly reduces the probability of human error on certain tasks but also frees the diver’s mind to deal confidently with more complex aspects of the problem.”
Stress accompanies us everywhere and is magnified in deep diving activities. Know yourself; know your buddy and/or your diving team. Dive within your limits.
The Use of Trial Exhibits by Expert Witnesses in Litigation
November 16th, 2011
I did an article for Undercurrent called “Anatomy of A Diving Lawsuit” in 2009 that dealt with the analysis of a specific single case and trial that I worked on as the defense maritime and diving expert. This involved the disappearance of two divers at Cocos Island, nearly 500 miles offshore of Costa Rica. This is follow up piece that expands the narrative. A key thing at trial is being able to use exhibits during testimony to help the jury understand complicated facts, theories, and the geography on an area where an accident or fatality has occurred.
It’s a complicated process and most trials end up being won by primary expert witnesses during their live testimony. Doing the “grunt” work on the files is fairly routine but takes time and a bit of careful strategy in coming up with a defense posture that can play effectively to a judge or jury. But there is nothing like the pressure of a live deposition or trial wherein the absolute necessity for extemporaneous and calculated quick thought plays such a vital role. As an expert witness, it is impossible to fully anticipate where the cross-examination will go, what ploys are attempted by opposing counsel, what tactic to deceive you about the actual evidence or prior testimony may be taken, etc. It is a very stressful role to play as you must not only protect the defendants’ conduct with sometimes very extemporaneous responses, but also remember to maintain control and speak to the jury as a credible, likable, and professional witness in whom they should place their trust to explain the complicated facts and nuance so they choose to favor your opinion over that of the opposition. It is an arena that few people do well in and requires a tremendous degree of control and spontaneous thinking with no room for error. I’ve described it before as the equivalent of an “intellectual gladiator pit”. That sums it up pretty accurately.
If given the proper tools and time for preparation, there are few trial lawyers who can cross-examine me without actually hurting themselves in the process. For years, I’ve been able to make more points sometimes during cross than in direct testimony and this is not lost on the jury when opposing counsel gets his ass clobbered when he least expects it. That ability to think quickly and respond effectively to gain the advantage is what wins cases.
The pressure of depositions and trial work for an expert is difficult to fully articulate. But lawyers even occasionally ask themselves if they would like to place themselves on that line of fire. Even they don’t experience that pressure since they are not cross-examined. It’s a very surreal experience and only a handful of professionals are consistently successful at it. So far in my career (specializing exclusively in diving and maritime litigation), I’ve done 247 cases. I’ve yet to lose at trial. That’s a pretty tough record to equal. There are many “experts” who also tend to taint their credibility by almost exclusively doing either defense or plaintiffs sides as their “specialty”. You may have heard the term “plaintiff’s whores” applied to some “experts” whose entire careers have been devoted to selling themselves to those who are prosecuting the case on behalf of those suing for damages. The same term gets applied to those who only do defense work. This is usually brought out at trial and tends to immediately damage their credibility. It doesn’t help them that these types are also advertising in legal journals and running recruitment web sites.
In my career, my case load is nearly exactly evenly split between plaintiff and defense work. And I don’t advertise or even have a web site. All my work comes from referrals or my reputation from other trials that can be researched by lawyers on such things as WestLaw or Lexis. If I don’t absolutely believe in the conduct of a defendant or the facts that suggest that negligence did occur and a lawsuit is justified, I turn down the case. Because I am so extensively published on diving and maritime operations, medical and safety protocols, risk management, and all other issues involving these industries as well as having my expert opinion taken in hundreds of sworn depositions and trial testimony, I can never take a case that would be counter to prior opinions. That would give the other side cause to “impeach” my testimony and lessen its influence on the jury. So I sometimes end up turning down cases where I am actively solicited since my opinions and “moral compass” will not allow me to support their side. Like I said… it’s complicated. Especially if you believe in ethical behavior. That’s lacking a lot in litigation from my perspective.
Now to specifics and how trial exhibits have been practically, and successfully, applied to win cases.
Double Fatality at Cocos Island: defense maritime and diving expert
The above exhibit was derived from taking an actual satellite photo of Cocos Island and having a graphic artist produce a drawing that replicates it showing latitude and longitude as well as the island’s mountainous topography and the relative position of Dos Amigos Pequeno (the accident site) from the dive vessel’s anchorage in Chatham Bay, about eight miles away. The accident site was located off the main island’s west side and VHF radio communications to the dive boats was blocked by the high mountain. Since none of the jury had ever been there, these exhibits help them to understand the geography, currents, relative positions of the dive site to the support vessel, etc. during my live trial testimony. These are projected on large screens for their simultaneous viewing.
This exhibit shows another satellite photo of the small pinnacle where the dive took place. You can clearly see the impact of the seas as they strike the face of the pinnacle and deflect to wrap around it. The graphic then shows the actual direction of sea swell and prevailing current. It also shows the area on the south side of the pinnacle where almost complete calm water and no current exists. This was the planned pick-up zone for divers as they completed their observations of schooling shark activity on the north side and then rode the current around to the protected lee for recovery by the dive launch. All divers, except the two who disappeared, completed the dive and were picked up immediately upon surfacing in the lee zone. The two who disappeared were not see at all by the others and their disappearance remains a mystery. But the facts suggest that they died underwater and never surfaced. Since they were diving independently and not being guided or involved in supervised instruction, they were responsible for their own conduct underwater.
This exhibit shows the ocean current set and drift and what would happen to a diver or object on the surface if they came up and simply drifted. The current would have tended to push them within easy reach by swimming (less than 100 yards) of the southwest corner of the island. The current then wraps around the island and moves to the east making it even more likely that divers would simply have been brought to the south beach area unharmed. Since no trace of them or their bodies were found underwater or on the island, my argument convinced the jury that their deaths occurred underwater at the Dos Amigos Pequeno site. This shut down any arguments that the defendants (the divemaster, the vessel, the captain, etc.) failed to do a proper search & rescue in the aftermath. You can’t fail to do such an operation if no one comes up to find.
This graphic was produced from the exhaustive reports of the U.S. Coast Guard in their own search operations that lasted seven days and involved surface vessels, aircraft, helicopters, and manned high speed boats to canvas nearly 2000 square miles of ocean. The only trace ever found of the divers was a dive tank and a surface sausage float that had not been inflated. My testimony was that it was beyond any credible belief that such items would have been jettisoned by divers if they were drifting on the ocean surface and hoping to be found. A tank provides both positive buoyancy, low pressure air for Dive Alert whistles, and the ability to inflate a BC. The tank had over 500 psi remaining and therefore was a valuable safety tool for a diver. No other traces of the divers were ever found. It is more likely that one diver had an out-of-air emergency and they suffered the typical double fatality that has been statistically the case in so many scenarios. More likely than not, the tank and safety sausage either came apart during the underwater struggle and floated to the surface while the two divers sank to the deep bottom… over 1000 depths near the pinnacle.
The trial lasted two weeks. I was the last to testify and I was on the stand all day… nearly eight hours for both direct testimony and cross-examination. The jury believed my expert opinions and returned a complete defense verdict with no award for damages. It was a remarkable victory for the defense in a highly publicized and emotional case.
Diver Death During Training in Alaska: Plaintiffs’ diving expert
The above graphic is a dramatic illustration of the site where this
fatality occurred in Alaska. An instructor and one student were to
dive this wreck to a maximum depth of 110 feet for 20 minutes. This
shows the exact bathymetry of ocean bottom contours and topography
along with the outline of wreck laid over the ocean bed. The wreck is
in close proximity to shore and only submerged about five feet deep
at its stern. The bow is in nearly 120 foot depths. This gives the jury
a very clear overview of the site, its location near the shore, and the
various depths involved.
This case had multiple issues of negligence directed at the supervising instructor who allowed his student to run completely out of air during a training dive. This was even worse for the instructor’s conduct since it was just him and one student… no issues of trying to look after more than a single diver. After the diver ran out of air and made a panicked ascent, the instructor failed to share air or establish the student’s buoyancy on the surface by inflating his BC. More negligence was evident since the instructor insisted the student wear his weight belt under his BC waist and crotch strap so it could not be dropped. Although they were only a short distance from shore, the instructor decided to let the student sink beneath him and desperately try to cling to the instructor’s extra regulator second stage… only by his teeth… while being towed by the instructor on the surface. When the student became exhausted from such an ordeal, he finally lost his bite grip on the mouth piece and sank in less than ten feet of water. He was totally helpless since he was grossly overweighted by the weight belt that could not be dropped and completely out of air. Instead of diving down to rescue his student, the instructor (who had plenty of air remaining in his own tank) swam to shore. He then removed his own equipment, walked up the beach, and swam back out to the dive boat. He then called the Coast Guard and sat there for nearly two hours before rescue teams arrived. His excuse was that he couldn’t see the helpless student on the bottom… less than ten feet below him. At that point, he would have been easy to recover and bring to the surface. Instead, the instructor abandoned him to certain death by drowning.
When the rescue team arrived and the instructor directed them to the position where he had last seen his student, they went there and immediately could clearly see the body from the boat. They didn’t even have to get in the water. So the issue of vertical visibility was a huge factor in determining negligence and liability… not to mention the issues of the instructor’s overall truthfulness in a series of statements and testimony wherein he contradicted himself repeatedly.
I decided the best way to show the jury what the instructor had really seen was to return to the exact site under the exact same tidal and visibility conditions and place a mannequin (equipped exactly as the deceased diver) on the bottom in the same depth of water. I then photographed that “body” from the perspective that the instructor would have had from the surface of the water. The above photo shows the life sized mannequin ready to be deployed from my support boat into the ocean and placed on the bottom.
Since the exact location of the body recovery was in the USCG reports and rescue team records, I knew the exact location to place the “body” to re-create the scene. Before putting the “body” in the water, I photographed the support boat’s chart plotter and GPS as evidence that I was in the exact same location.
I then placed a surface buoy marking the exact location and showing how close to shore the helpless student was when the instructor abandoned him. The distance was less than 50 feet to the rocky beach.
This other photograph shows more perspective on the body location by providing scale with a person standing on the beach and showing another vessel in the background. The body was in nine feet of water when the instructor abandoned his student. The depths rapidly decreased to less than four feet deep in only 20 feet of linear distance to the shore. In my opinion, even a neophyte diver could have effected this rescue. The instructor involved had over 40 years of experience.
This view shows the “body” clearly visible in ten feet of water. I then had an assistant diver move the “body” progressively deeper in ten foot depth increments to clearly show that the student would have been easily visible and able to be swiftly recovered in far deeper depths.
This photo (taken from the just beneath the surface where the instructor’s point of view would have been) shows the “body” clearly visible at 50 foot depth.
These photos completely impeached the instructor’s credibility and testimony that he could not see the student in less than ten feet of water. I testified over the course of two and half days as the plaintiffs’ expert. The case settled (to the satisfaction of the widow and children) a day after I testified. The trial was halted at that point before the plaintiffs’ case was even completed.
The following press release came out in the trial’s aftermath:
Alaska Wrongful Death Suit Against PADI Instructor Settles Mid-Trial
Plaintiffs Reject Million Dollar Settlement Offer Prior To Jury Selection
Released on: 8/30/2011
A lawsuit filed in Kenai, Alaska has been settled on a confidential basis during the third week of a jury trial against PADI instructor Robert Hicks and his employer Alaska SeaLife Center.
The suit alleged that Matthew Myers, a student training in Hicks’ self-created Scientific Diving Course@ at the SeaLife Center died when he ran out of air during a deep dive, and was later abandoned by Hicks in nine feet of water approximately 30 feet from shore. Myers had been seriously overweighted and was being towed with Hicks’ regulator second stage mouthpiece in his mouth while underwater, with Hicks swimming above him on the surface until Myers dropped off. Hicks proceeded on to shore, then returned to their dive vessel anchored a short distance away and called for help, which arrived over one hour later, but remained on the vessel.
Myers left a widow and two small children, who were represented in trial by Anchorage attorneys of Phillip Weidner and Cristina Weidner Tafs, together with noted Divelaw attorneys, Michele Nelson Bass and Rick Lesser.
Freediver Death During School Cruise in Hawaii: Plaintiffs’ diving and maritime expert
This case involved a high school teacher who accompanied his students on a small expedition-style vessel (145 ft. long) for a trip around the islands of Hawaii. He engaged in freediving at an area off Lanai Island (west of Maui) adjacent to a rock formation known as Shark Fin Rock. In this area, the east side of the rock features shallow depths (15-25 feet) and is protected from current. However, the ship had their crew place their large inflatable launches to a mooring site on Shark Fin Rock’s west side where the area had an immediate precipitous drop-off and a strong current. The liability issues included whether this was an appropriate site, the fact that no staff accompanied the deceased, and then the boat crew failed to respond adequately when he passed out underwater. It was necessary to scramble other crew from the main ship since no scuba gear or oxygen units were aboard the launches. The deceased may not have been aware of the deep depths proximately to his entry point and that he would not have any crew support.
This first photo shows the bay on the west side of Lanai with Shark Fin Rock clearly shown. The orange inflatable is provided for scale.
Another view of Shark Fin Rock showing an inflatable boat taking tourists snorkeling in the correct area.
This re-creation of a NOAA nautical chart had to be completely redrawn to show accurate scale of the area. Shark Fin Rock appears as the small “island” to the left (west) of bay north of Palaoa Pt. This also shows the depth contours clearly and how close the ten fathom (60-ft. depth) line runs right to the edge of Shark Fin Rock.
This graphic reproduces a “look down” image in more detail of Shark Fin Rock and how the two inflatable launches were moored. The first boat was moored with its bow barely over a tie-in point in about 30 foot depths. However, the bottom then swiftly dropped off so that snorkelers entering the water were actually in 60-70 foot depths with a drop-off falling away sharply.
This photo shows the underwater topography and its steep drop-off with a diver included for scale. The deceased entered the water in this area and began freediving. He apparently was not advised of the deep depths, drop-off contour, and current that tended to sweep him into deeper water. He suffered an episode of latent hypoxia (sometimes called “shallow water blackout”) during his ascent from his breath hold dive. He passed out only 10 feet below the surface but no crew responded in time before he sank to a depth of nearly 100 feet and drowned.
This photo shows the position of another launch on the same mooring. The boat’s bow is over the pinnacle top in about 20 foot depths with its stern in over 70 foot depths and the drop-off falling away.
I used another diver to assume the same position of the deceased’s body in 100 foot depths where it landed on the bottom after being carried away from the mooring point by the current.
This graphic takes elements of the NOAA chart and lays in the current direction of drift showing that a freediver who entered the water would have been swept away from the rock and into deeper depths immediately.
We had another expert in the case who was a professor of Oceanography who could establish the current force and direction. He accompanied me to the site and participated in all my inspections, photography, and subsequent re-creations. In this photo, he has deployed a green dye from the launch at the mooring site to show the direction of current drift. We then timed the drift and distance traveled to get the current’s velocity.
I shot this photo looking back to Shark Fin Rock after ten minutes of the dye forming a trail that illustrates the current direction. It clearly shows that a person would be carried south-southwest into deeper water if they entered the water from that mooring at the Rock.
This excellent graphic shows the jury the “side view” that a diver could observe underwater. This illustrates the position of the launches and the immediate deep depths. The deceased entered the water from the stern of the first launch and was already in water over 70 feet deep when he apparently thought he would be in only very shallow snorkeling depths of perhaps 15-20 feet.
This last graphic shows the trajectory and final resting place of the deceased freediver’s body as it plunged from the launch and finally settled on the bottom after he passed out and the crew failed to rescue him in a timely manner. The time of his entering the water and being observed passed out beneath the surface to when rescuers got to him was estimated by various accounts to be from 8-15 minutes. Brain death from lack of oxygen occurs generally within six minutes of unconsciousness underwater with nothing to breathe.
This trial went all the way and last nearly four weeks. I was on the plaintiffs’ side representing the widow and children of the dead freediver. The jury deliberated and came back with a sizable award for them.
Conclusion
I hope that these three actual case examples show how important trial exhibits are to letting the jury get the feel of what it’s like underwater and on the surface of accident sites. Remember: the average juror is not a diver or a mariner so they need all the help they can get to grasp the facts and opinions of experts. Such exhibits are invaluable in giving them perspective.
I currently have 13 open case files… again nearly evenly divided between defense and plaintiffs work. My job is made far easier by using my own photography and the skills of a graphics artist to prepare trial exhibits and do the best we can to help a jury assess the facts and render their verdict.
In the end, it’s the jury who decides a case. Their job is the hardest of all.
Contact:
Bret Gilliam
OCEAN TECH
54 Stonetree Rd.
Arrowsic, ME 04530
USA
phone: 207-442-0998
email: bretgilliam@gmail.com
Graphic Artist:
Lynn Hendrickson
DESIGN ON DEMAND
web site: www.designondemand.net
email: designondemand1@myfairpoint.net
Cocos Island: An Ocean Oasis
October 12th, 2011
Cocos divers are a committed bunch. (Some might opine that they should actually be committed… to a room with padded walls wearing jackets with sleeves that tie behind you.) First of all, it’s not a cheap investment and there’s the little matter of a two-day sea crossing of nearly 400 miles just to get there. Upon arrival you are afforded the opportunity to be surrounded by hundreds (maybe thousands) of schooling hammerhead sharks. And tuna the size of NFL linemen, mantas, various billfish, dolphin, bait balls, scores of marble rays the size of coffee tables, and a million or so schools of big eye jack and other species I’m still trying to identify. And, of yeah, you’ve got an odds on chance of swimming with a whale shark or two and seeing a humpback whale.
I began leading trips to Cocos back in 1996 when we used the Sea Hunter fleet as a proving ground for the first editions of the Draeger semi-closed circuit rebreather. If there was ever a location that was better match for the silent stealth of rebreathers, I can’t imagine where we might look.
Schooling hammerheads
Cocos had already made its reputation as the best big animal dive region in the world. The advent of affordable rebreathers just made it better. Sort of like initially visiting the wild animals of the African Serengetti from a mile away through a spotting scope and then donning a cloak of invisibility to walk among them up close.
Prior to 1996, if you wanted to have any real chance at close encounters with the legendary schooling hammerheads, you were forced to dig in to a nook on the bottom, wait for a wave of sharks to approach, and then hold your breath as long as you could. Once the exhaust bubbles billowed upward, the sharks immediately faded away and wouldn’t return for at least twenty minutes or so. Considering the duration of an aluminum 80 at 100+ feet for the average diver, this pretty much meant one brief viewing per dive.
Rebreathers changed all the rules, for both man and fish. Now we could plan dive times of up to 90 minutes at pretty much any depth we wanted without concerns about running out of gas. By careful matching of the supply nitrox gas to the system’s replenishment orifice flow, we could almost completely eliminate any bothersome bubbles from even semi-closed circuit models.
The last piece of the equation was getting enough rebreathers out to Cocos so that every diver that went in the ocean was using one. ‘Cause all it takes is one noisy bubble-belching open circuit diver within a quarter mile and we were right back looking at the lions from a telescope. And having been close enough to, figuratively, smell their breath… it was tough to go back to shooting pictures from the right field bleachers. (Warning: Don’t try to use a mixed metaphor involving African predator cats and baseball unless you’re a trained journalism professional.)
The First Rebreather Trip in 1996
So with 18 hardy adventurers in our party we embarked with enough rebreathers and support equipment to bear more than a passing resemblance to a SEAL team invasion force. I remember the scene at the airport customs office as Joe Odom and I attempted to clear thirty some cases of high tech diving gear through a very suspicious agent wearing a uniform out of a bad Lorenzo Lamas movie and mirrored sunglasses.
“Why you want to bring this military equipment to our peaceful country?” he inquired. A reasonable question I figured. So I offered up our story of using rebreathers to be able to silently approach and film the giant hammerhead schools. “You go in water with sharks,” he asked with an eyebrow arched nearly to the brim of his Manuel Noriega cap. “Why you wanna do that?”
You had to admit that he had a point. I left Odom to explain in more detail why normally rational persons would deliberately place themselves in what he perceived as the pinnacle of harm’s way while I scuttled off to the hotel to arrange a truck to haul our cargo from San Jose to Puntarenas where the Sea Hunter awaited. That day and night passed and no sign of Odom. Visions of Joe strapped to an interrogation chair with a naked 100 watt bulb over his head leapt to mind. Joe was an ex-Air Force spook during the Vietnam era, and I was confident that he could handle whatever came down with aplomb and confidence.
Towards the end of the next day he appeared with a signed clearance and all our stuff neatly stowed in the truck. Muttering under his breath something about “Badges? We don’t need no stinking badges!” he climbed aboard with a nod and wink to disappear into the night with our precious cargo. The man gets things done. But sometimes it’s best to not ask exactly how.
We had a fantastic visit and eagerly looked forward to our next charters when the phenomenon of El Nino raised its ugly head beginning in 1997. All over the world, things changed. And not for the better. My inquiries with Avi Klapfer, owner of the Sea Hunter fleet, led him to assure me that Cocos would recover before I arrived that summer.
The 1997/98 El Nino
Howard Hall with IMAX camera in underwater housing
My dear friends Howard and Michele Hall had already done two lengthy trips to Cocos on the Undersea Hunter when I bumped into them at the Boston Sea Rovers in mid-March of 1998. They were in the process of filming an IMAX film called “Island of the Sharks”.
“So Howard, tell me about the conditions in Cocos,” I asked hopefully. Howard is one of those sincere individuals who chooses his words carefully and then articulates a considered response.
“Bret, I’ve never seen anything like it this year. We’ve been down there now for a total of 44 days of diving. It’s never rained. the sun shines every day, it’s flat calm, and the water temperature is about 88 degrees from the surface down to around 175 feet. And the visibility has been nearly 300 feet on some days, ” he related. I suddenly felt a whole lot better. Here was Howard raving about all this stuff when we thought conditions were going to be a disaster.
“Hey, that sounds all right,” I grinned. “How about the hammers?”
“Oh, we haven’t see a shark the whole time we’ve been there. Or a manta. Or a bait ball.” he noted ruefully.
Michele added further detail, “It’s crystal clear and there’s nothing in the ocean.”
Since Howard and Michele were running a budget in excess of five million dollars on the IMAX film they were making, the lousy couple of hundred thousand that I had committed to my charters seemed insignificant by comparison.
Trying to salvage something while clutching at straws, I asked,”What about the pigs? At least tell me the pigs are still there?”
Howard fixed me with a look you might give a mumbling drunk on a New York subway. “Yeah, the pigs are still there. And I think they miss you.” Well, at last something was still right in my universe.
Howard tried to cheer us up. “Don’t worry, Avi promises it will get better.” Michele, who handles the role of producer and thusly is responsible for much of the financial side of things for Howard Hall Productions, gave me a look that implied that if things didn’t get a whole lot more exciting by the time both our teams rendezvoused in Cocos in August that she would probably be filming a segment on the ritual castration of Avi.
El Nino went into the record books while I grimly kept my fingers crossed. On July 29th, we arrived in Costa Rica with another container load of rebreathers from our pals at Drager and looked for a Sea Hunter representative to cross examine on the dive conditions. It wasn’t hopeful. The sharks were still absent. Howard had been on location with the Undersea Hunter for about a week and they were concentrating on filming “smaller stuff”. Like what? “Oh, you know, symbiotic colonies and macro life, it’s really fascinating.”
But on the voyage outward we were heartened to get a radio message from Michele that they had seen some hammers that day and that the deeper water was getting colder. The next morning reported some good schooling activity and our spirits lifted.
Howard Hall and Bob Cranston aboard Sea Hunter ready for dive with rebreathers
We dropped anchor in the lee of Chatham Bay and organized our dive teams. Instruction on the Drager rebreathers, newly named the Dolphin I, had been on-going for our passengers direction since they boarded and now we would prepare our eager divers for their first plunge into Cocos’s waters.
We’re Back!
The first dive confirmed that the underwater universe of Cocos had been restored to order. We were dropped on the west side of Manuelita and within minutes had seen our first group of hammers, numbering around 20 and meandering slowly by the island’s steep rock face. We were elated and elected to drift around the north side of the island in the raging current that swirled into alternating vortexes and eddies.
Currents at Cocos can be nearly nonexistent or death defying. They can feature velocities in excess of six knots along with sudden reverses of direction and, at times, violent downdrafts. And they can do all these neat things in the course of one dive. The current was mild on the western face of Manuelita but funneled into a sustained rush as we eased ourselves around the corner. In an instant we were sucked out into the blue with only a distant visual reference to the precipitous rock face. And we were surrounded by sharks.
White tip reef sharks hunt at night in the divers' lights
Even the normally pedestrian white tip reef sharks were now aggregating in schooling swarms. I pointed out a group of nearly a hundred on the move and off the bottom. The sometimes nasty dispositioned silky sharks patrolled the edges of two giant schools of jack and a small bait ball. As the school of jack opened to let us through we exited into more hammerheads than we had ever seen.
Although once you have spent time swimming with the hammerhead schools, a certain detachment tends to take over. In the past we had felt that the sharks were exhibiting behavior that, at least to some extent, was predictable. With rebreathers we had the luxury of greatly extended life support allowing us to extend dives well beyond the capabilities of open circuit gear and to include as much decompression as our profiles might dictate on the fly. And the sharks pretty much seemed to ignore our presence if we remained unobtrusive.
But on this first dive I inwardly admitted that my thoughts briefly contemplated whether these were the same sharks that had seen divers before over the years and understood that their role was to be fearsome looking but to leave us alone. Because there were just so damn many of them and now we were well away from the island and rocketing along in a current that made Cozumel’s best efforts look like a cakewalk. What if the El Nino had somehow altered their behavior? What if they were only beginning to feed on the restored food source? What if they decided that the old rules didn’t apply and that we could be sampled as so much sushi on the hoof?
Yeah, we shared a couple of anxious thoughts and one or two quick visual checks to make certain that the other dive team members were still there in one piece, but basically the sweeping spectacle of hundreds of sharks from eight to fourteen feet in length moving past us scant inches from our face plates moved our priorities to camera work and away from consideration of mortality. We drifted completely around Manuelita and nearly two miles beyond to the east before the parade of hammers subsided. We surfaced together and looked hopefully for the panga to recover us. Way off in the distance we could see our boatman scanning the horizon… in the wrong direction. A couple of blasts on my Dive Alert sonic alarm got his attention (note: do not leave home without this device) and ten minutes later we were aboard.
Sharks attracted to aftermath of bait ball debris
On the first day of our scheduled month long expedition Avi had confirmed his prediction that the marine life would make a dramatic return following the waning of El Nino. It was better that it had ever been. And it would get better.
On Location: Basecamp Sea Hunter
We always chose to go to Cocos in August because it had historically proven to be the peak period for hammerheads. It also happens to be smack dab in the middle of the rainy season. And you have never seen rain until you’ve been to Cocos.
Later that same day our panga transited nearby another that was supporting Howard Hall’s IMAX film crew. But it was raining so hard that we couldn’t talk to each other even though Howard was only about a boat length away. He noted to me later,”I read somewhere that it rains over 24 feet annually here in Cocos. I think that might be an understatement.” Personally I think it might rain 24 feet just during the month of August. I don’t believe that I ever saw film crew members Bob Cranston or Mark Thurlow completely dry at any time that month… even in the evenings for dinner. Lance Milbrand, the strapping Nordic guy who hauls the IMAX camera around underwater for Howard, confided that his yellow rain parka had become his most valued piece of gear. So I guess his trusty inflatable doll was getting a rest.
Incredibly, periods of intense sunshine are typical between downpours and the trick is working whatever mojo you can to give you some light when you’re diving. Everyone in our crew decided to forever forego sunshine when we were on the surface if we could please get f-stops over 2.8 when we were underwater filming. And just as incredibly, it seemed to work out that way for us. We seemed forever blessed with nearly ideal conditions when it counted.
One day we assembled for our scheduled departure from Sea Hunter and immediately the heavens opened and a downpour of biblical proportions enveloped the anchorage. It rained so hard that a muddy run off extended from the shoreline nearly a half mile from Chatham Bay. I swear I thought I caught a glimpse of animals ashore lining up two by two through breaks in the deluge. Up the beach, an old guy was building an ark. He looked a lot like Stan Waterman…
Most of our less stalwart members elected to sit this one out. But as five of us grimaced through the bullets of rain heading towards Dos Amigos, the sky suddenly cleared and, as we entered the water, uninterrupted beams of sunlight blazed over the dive area. Of course, the dive was fabulous and we were greeted with encounters by tuna the size of NFL linemen, a prolonged bait ball spectacle, and hammerheads by the hundreds. That dive sealed our pact that no matter how bad it looked when we began to gear up at the Sea Hunter we had to go. And more often than not we were rewarded with spectacular results.
Perhaps our best single dive occurred during the second ten day voyage when we decided to take both pangas to Alcyone sea mount after leaving it alone for Howard and his crew for several days. During that time Howard had been treated to exceptionally rough surface conditions, pouring rain and dark water conditions from the constantly moving cold water layer that fluctuated wildly. Howard reported getting set up for shots only to be enveloped in the dark green layering thermocline that quickly reduced visibility to an oily haze as the cold water mixed with the clear warm water. And we’re talking as much as 25 degrees difference in temperature. Not exactly conditions ideal for filming.
After a couple days of this torture, Howard elected to try another site and we decided to try our luck at Alcyone. The rain started as soon as we began loading gear into the pangas. And got heavier as we eased around the point into the open ocean. But although the anchorage was heaving from the north swell, we found calm water on the thirty-minute run down to Alcyone. Along the way the rain eased and the sun came out. Arriving at the site Eric Gilbert, Sea Hunter’s divemaster, dropped in to set the anchor and immediately surfaced to report that a large whale shark was swimming over the area.
A half dozen of us rolled into the sea and had the beast swim right up to us. I fired off about twelve frames in one camera body and left Mr. Big to the eager divers in our group who had never seen a whale shark before. Settling onto a ledge at 120 feet on the east side of the mount, I was treated to a non-stop procession of hammerheads that flew over, around, and between me and other divers for the better part of thirty minutes. We decided to head off in search of the ascent line when the whale shark re-appeared around sixty feet. Eric was in perfect position with his video rig and racked some extraordinary footage as we cavorted with the shark for nearly another twenty minutes.
Finally, well into deco and with the light retreating, we eased into place and clipped into the ascent line. Relaxing in the mild current I did a mental count of divers from my boat and noted that one was still unaccounted for. A short while later he appeared in the deeper zone and was nearly run over by our newest best friend, the whale shark.
We quickly took stock of our situation. Both of us were into deco but had plenty of gas in our rebreathers to allow some more swim time. We both had film left in our cameras. And everyone else was either out of the water or committed to decompression that they couldn’t break off. It was perfect. One whale shark, two of us. Kinda like that 1969 evening at Woodstock with Felicity, the psychedelic flower child.
I adjusted my descent to intersect the shark as the other diver swam under his body into position. It was as good a photo opportunity as any diver can hope for. We spent a half hour with that curious animal as he led us all over Alcyone inviting us to swim within inches. At one point we broke off when I ran out of film and started to swim back to our decom line. The shark followed us and deliberately re-established contact. I had swum next to his huge pectoral for several minutes without touching him. My buddy had positioned himself just a foot or so ahead of his gaping mouth and was rapidly finning backwards while firing away with his digital camera.
Although the shark was swimming slowly it was still getting to be one hell of a workout to keep up with him after this long. Without warning he altered his course and I gently pushed myself away with my free hand. He seemed to like the contact and I scratched a spot on his back. He slowed and continued to turn into my swim path. I figured, what the hell, he likes contact. So I eased my left hand onto the pectoral fin while massaging his back above the gill plates. Now he was towing me effortlessly at a speed that I could only barely manage swimming on my own. He chauffeured me through the area with my buddy madly swimming ahead scrambling for photos.
After about the third loop around Alcyone I eased my way clear and began my ascent to enter the long decompression. Even then the shark stayed with me and continued to circle me on the deco line. My partner arrived a few minutes late completely exhausted and we both gathered our wits as this magnificent animal kept us company. Only when we pushed away for the surface did he finally break off with us.
I’ve had numerous whale shark encounters over my career but never with an animal that sought to prolong the session to such an extent and to deliberately seek contact with divers. It was the best I’ve ever had. Howard’s IMAX film came out later to rave reviews and no one would have guessed that the shark footage was actually captured in the space of about two weeks on his last trip out there. If conditions hadn’t finally gotten back to normal, the film might have been named “Island of the Big Eye Jacks”…
A Shark Lesson
On another expedition a few years later, a last minute opening came up due to illness with a confirmed diver, we accepted a lady named Dona Jones as a replacement. A resident of Ennis, Montana and an active diver, she grabbed the last spot with less than five days before departure and would undertake the TDI certification course for the rebreather while on board. To ease her transition, the Sea Hunter’s diving supervisor, Mario Arroyo, went to great pains to show her video clips of what to expect. This included an exciting stream of footage showing the thrashing mating rituals of white tip sharks.
After watching the segment in which the male shark bites down on the female’s pectorals to ensure his grip during the mating act, Dona inquired as to why it was necessary for the male to be so violent.
Mario summoned his most scholarly demeanor as he attempted to explain “Shark Mating 101″ to his student, “Dona, you must understand that sharks… they have no hands.” We all figured that he was starting from a pretty basic position of animal science and left him to progressively amplify the nuance of shark foreplay. Dona seemed spellbound after some initial hesitation.
Whether or not the live action lived up to Dona’s vivid fantasies was a question answered after her first dive off Manuelita when she was treated to her first experience viewing wave after wave of hammerheads. She was, to further strain a metaphor, hooked.
Howard Hall films bait ball with feeding silky sharks for IMAX film "Island of the Sharks"
The bait ball phenomena is one of the more unique thrill rides associated with Cocos. The name derives from the defensive action of small fish that form into a rapidly swirling ball to appear larger and ward off predators. Several films, including Howard Hall’s stunning IMAX masterpiece Island of the Sharks, depict this wild frenzy. It usually can be identified from the surface by the activity of diving sea birds that also feed in the school. Underneath, the action is electrifying as tuna, dolphins, and sharks all converge to feed in violent lunges until the entire bait ball is consumed. It’s not for the faint of heart but offers the diver an unbelievable observation point of nature’s Darwinian theory in real time.
The Lesson
Cocos is a unique and totally wild diving resource that is simply the best place in the world for big animal encounters. We even had a mother and calf humpback whale several days in a row on our way to Alcyone. Although it’s hard to pry yourself away from the underwater experiences, the terrestrial side of Cocos presents a remarkable opportunity for hiking the islands jungle trails, visiting the various blue footed booby rookeries and other exotic bird species, or simply relaxing in the bathing pools created by hundreds of waterfalls cascading from the steep cliff sides. If your budget can afford the fare, do yourself a favor and get to Cocos to see this underwater Disneyland yourself. Then get prepared for the time of your life. It’s the most fun I’ve had without getting naked in as long as I can remember.
You get a $5 discount if you already understand that “sharks… they have no hands.” We need more impassioned ichthyologists.
Room with a View
June 28th, 2011
Layne Salvador appreciates the view from main window port
Nearly forty years ago I had the chance to spend some time in an ambitious underwater habitat project known as La Chalupa placed on the sea bottom off Puerto Rico. My host was Mike Kilbride (son of the BVI’s infamous Bert Kilbride) who had hired on as a project diver after finishing up a commercial underwater blasting job we had both worked on for Hess Oil Co. in the Virgin Islands in 1972.
“You’ve really got to see this operation to appreciate it,” he said over the phone. “There’s some real bright guys running this thing that are veterans from the Tektite saturation program. You’ll get a kick out of what they’re up to. And you have to meet my boss, Ian Koblick.”
So I was off to San Juan on the next plane from St. Croix. Arriving at the remote site, Mike was quick to fill me in. “We’re set up to handle five divers in saturation for a month at depths up to 106 feet. But what really makes this different is that La Chalupa can operate up to 10 miles from shore with a minimum of surface support. That’s never been done before and we’ve added a few other twists that are pretty innovative.”
Koblick, an aquanaut and engineer for both Tektite I and II, had designed the habitat and provided joint sponsorship from his Marine Resources Development Foundation (MRDF) with the Puerto Rican government. He wanted a habitat that would offer more mobility, more independence from topside infrastructure, longer and deeper mission durations, and flexible contingency plans to handle decompression and life support emergencies. While most other habitats of this era were fairly conventional looking using various designs of spherical compartments linked to shore or ship-based umbilicals, Koblick departed from tradition in his approach for La Chalupa. Essentially, he enclosed two cylindrical chambers inside a bargelike structure that allowed the entire system to be towed to an operating site and then sunk.
La Chalupa at surface ready for towing to saturation site 1972
He incorporated large flood tanks located inside the barge which could be used to raise, or lower, the system by pumping seawater in or out and other unique submergence control trim tanks to stabilize the habitat during deployment. By adding 75 tons of concrete ballast, he achieved a net 22 tons of negative buoyancy when the entire structure was flooded and set in place. Another design breakthrough was the addition of four hydraulic legs that could be raised flush with the barge bottom for towing, but extended five feet to raise the habitat off the sea floor when in place.
The two 8 x 20 foot cylindrical chambers provided space for living compartments, labs, electronic equipment, and galley amenities. These were separated by a non-pressurized “wet room”. This 10 x 20 foot rectangular area allowed aquanauts to enter the habitat from an opening in the floor that was large enough for several divers to utilize simultaneously while fully dressed in scuba equipment. This area also allowed dive gear to be stowed inside the compartment and contained the shower and toilet facilities. A large stainless steel work table was added to provide additional lab space for sorting scientific specimens and maintenance.
View from original La Chalupa habitat galley/lab area to ocean porthole
Altogether, over 600 square feet of space was available. Living conditions, while markedly improved over such habitats as Hydrolab, were still primitive, at best, featuring steel walls, exposed wiring and plumbing, and little in the way of creature comforts. But, nonetheless, the diving crew was pumped up over more square footage and the opportunity to test applications of deeper, remote living conditions underwater.
An unmanned 36-foot life support boat (LSB) containing generators, compressors, air conditioning, and communications systems was moored overhead and designed to sustain heavy storm conditions. It also stored 1000 gallons of fresh water and 800 gallons of diesel fuel for the generators. This could provide over a week of surface support even if ocean conditions prevented land-based crew support and re-supply.
Inside La Chalupa were further back-ups in case the LSB was blown away or rendered inoperable. This included emergency batteries to operate the lights and carbon dioxide scrubbers for 48 hours. Extra breathing gas cylinders, food, CO2 removal systems, and fresh water were provided in the habitat to support life in total isolation for up to ten days.
“Yeah, but what if the storm lasts more than ten days?” I asked.
“Oh, Ian thought of that, too,” Mike assured me. “Look in the overhead of each compartment. These hatches are access to the two PTC’s that can be used for escape if everything else goes down the tubes.” Every operation like this seems to love acronyms like PTC for Personnel Transfer Capsule, PUTS for Portable Underwater Talking Station, etc.
Eying the tiny escape pods, I asked for further explanation. Mike provided it, “Each PTC is equipped with a mating flange that can be docked with the shore-based decompression chamber. All you have to do is climb in, release the PTC from the habitat and it will float to the surface. Once you activate the EPIRB signal, a helicopter will pick you up. In theory, anyway.”
Mike seemed a little tentative on this subject. I decided to press him a bit.
“Now let me get this straight,” I queried. “The life support boat has failed or been blown away in a storm bad enough that no one from shore can get out to help. You’ve used all the back-ups in the habitat and are still in saturation and have to come up. You’re telling me to climb into this little coffin and blow myself up to the surface where a helicopter just might find me bobbing around in twelve foot seas ten miles offshore?”
“Yeah, that part of the plan might need a bit more work,” Mike admitted. “But Ian says that it’s operationally sound and that test runs have confirmed his theory.” He was looking less confident by the minute.
I noticed a hand-stenciled inscription on one of the escape pods. In large bold letters it read: “KSC”. Now I knew what PUTS, LSB, PTC all meant but I hadn’t run across KSC before in other saturation facilities like Hydrolab or Tektite. I scratched my head and asked Mike what it meant. After much hemming and hawing he explained.
“It’s sort of an unofficial acronym that the aquanauts use when Ian’s not around. We don’t really like to talk about it. But KSC stands for ‘Koblick’s Suicide Capsule’. Hey, come on, Bret, you know our storms never last longer than a week or so in these latitudes. I can’t believe you even brought the subject up.”
He looked hurt that I would raise such a depressing issue among friends. I decided to let the subject drop diplomatically. He visibly brightened when I gave him an opening to expound on the features of the toilet system. Mike loves his work.
La Chalupa operated in its Puerto Rican location for three years between 1972 and 1974 with a total of eleven two-week missions by over 50 aquanauts. During that time the scientists conducted studies in reef ecology, geology, ocean engineering, and diving physiology. Koblick took advantage of the habitat’s mobility to vary the mission saturation depths from 50 feet to over 100 feet. To counteract the long-term exposure to pulmonary (whole body) oxygen toxicity, he employed special nitrox mixtures with less than normal percentages of oxygen. Aquanauts are subjected to slight loss of vital capacity, irritation in breathing, and annoying cough conditions after long periods breathing oxygen in excess of .5 atmospheres absolute (ATA). By reducing the oxygen in the breathing atmosphere to 8% for the 50 and 60-foot missions and 5% for the 100-foot projects, Koblick kept the partial pressures of oxygen within tolerable ranges.
During the two deep missions, the aquanauts experimented with the vertical “excursion tables” developed by Dr. Bill Hamilton and others in 1973. (Hamilton is still actively involved in applications of diving physiology today and later became a prime consultant to the technical diving community for custom tables beginning in the mid-1980s.) These deep missions were known as PRUNE I and II for Puerto Rican Undersea Nitrogen Excursion. But Koblick admits that it also applied to the diver’s skin condition after the long excursion dives.
On dives made from “storage depth” at 100 feet, the aquanauts used conventional compressed air (21% O2, 79% N2) from scuba units or 150-foot long hookah rigs from the habitat. The experiments wished to validate the depths to which a diver in saturation could ascend briefly from the deeper pressure without decompression sickness. A total of 23 upward excursions were made as shallow as 25 feet without incident except for some transient “niggles” reported by one diver. Experiments with downward excursions allowed dives from storage depth to as deep as 265 feet for up to four hours with no required deompression. “These new procedures promised diving scientists additional latitude for exploring the top third of our continental shelf without requiring exotic breathing mixtures and equipment,” Koblick reported. He also implemented testing of innovative new rebreather units during this same period.
La Chalupa complete her final mission on June 6, l974. She remained in Puerto Rico until 1976 when it was towed to Miami and virtually abandoned in a local shipyard. But Koblick was not out of ideas for his pet project and re-purchased the habitat in 1980 with the intent of restoring it to service in a site that would allow the sport diving public access to this fascinating technology.
REINCARNATION
In 1986 Koblick and partner Dr. Neil Monney debuted La Chalupa in her new role as a state-of-the-art underwater habitat/hotel at their Florida facility known as Key Largo Undersea Park. “To live beneath the sea was once just a dream of science fiction writers…now it is a reality,” says Dr. Monney.
“Waking up to view of a pair of angelfish looking in your bedroom window is moment you’ll never forget,” Koblick relates with a smile. With over 50 years of combined ocean research and industry experience, the two veteran aquanauts named their undersea retreat in honor of Jules Verne (author of Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea). Now re-christened as Jules’ Undersea Lodge, the habitat lies in 30 feet of water inside a protected lagoon only minutes from the open ocean in the Florida Keys. I decided to re-visit my old digs again in 1993.
Completely re-furbished with an accent on luxury, the habitat had undergone a startling transformation for anyone who spent time in her as a working scientific base in the 1970s. I am more than a little overwhelmed to re-visit after two decades. My dive partner, Layne Salvador, an aerospace engineer from Alabama, and I are ushered to the float to don pony tanks for the short swim down to the entrance “moon pool” in the wet room.
The changes effected are noted immediately. In 1973 the wet room was a dank and dark staging area half flooded to the ceiling to allow aquanauts in clumsy double tanks to swim in and stand up. Now we surface into a spotlessly carpeted and tiled room painted white and bathed in soft light. We doff the small cylinders in a gear rack and duck through an access hatch to inspect the living quarters.
Layne Salvador relaxes in one of two spacious bedroom compartments. Photo: Bret Gilliam
Gone are the spartan, subsistence living conditions of my youth. Koblick has contracted with the award-winning firm of Richard F. Geary as interior decorators. All extraneous equipment has been removed and the habitat surfaces covered in pastel carpet. Immaculate hardwood partitions separate the sleeping compartment into two luxurious bedrooms fitted with double beds, personal stereo and VCR/TV’s, and a 42 inch round window to the sea. A school of damselfish peer in at me. I stare back thinking that this place is nicer than a lot of places I lived in fulltime during the seventies.
Layne calls from the other compartment and I cross over to what used to be the lab. Now I’m in what can pass for a penthouse living room. A huge entertainment center is built-in to one side opposite a long comfortable couch settee running almost the length of the “room”. A fully functional bar and kitchen are arranged tastefully on one end. Hidden indirect bulbs provide a wash of muted illumination. Another huge window port beckons my gaze back to the lagoon as the late afternoon light dances through from the surface.
Hey, this is not what I expected. I had told Layne about the hardships of living and working underwater, the privations we endured, the hazards we braved. I had confided in my best one-eyed squinty pirate growl, “Aggrrh, them that died, they was the lucky ones, they was…”
Now I sink into an opulently cushioned seat by the port as she puts Jimmy Buffett in the stereo and starts popcorn in the microwave. Things change. Mike Kilbride should see me now. Screw him.
We decide to explore the lagoon on the hookah rigs and encounter a variety of curiosities including another small habitat left in its original “bare bones” configuration. We look inside to the pipe berths and metal plate deck and decide that this must be the Motel 6 equivalent for those less fortunate. After poking around some interesting artifacts from the famous Atocha wreck we retreat to the sanctity of our quarters where we have time for a hot fresh water shower before dinner is served.
Yeah, that’s right. This ain’t beans and rice like the old days. Mike Smith, the habitat engineer, pops up in the moon pool at the stroke of eight o’clock to prepare filet mignon and lobster tails. We eat while watching The Hunt For Red October on the giant screen television. There is something a little surreal about chowing down in this atmosphere and I glance up at the wall-mounted depth gauge periodically just to confirm that I’m actually underwater.
Mike tidies up and bids us farewell. We can communicate with him in the control van by radio, intercom or regular telephone if we need anything later he advises.
“Like what,” I think, “a bottle of Dom Perignon and a couple of Quaaludes?”
This aquanaut stuff has certainly gotten considerably more upscale than I remembered. I doze off in the couch watching the last rays of the sunset filter down to me as a school of snapper parade before the window.
I snap to attention as Layne breaks into my slumber. “Do you want key lime pie or a chocolate sundae for dessert?” she challenges me. In 1973 I would have crucified my fellow aquanauts for a soggy Twinkie. But now I’m getting used to this. Not one to make a rash decision in such serious circumstances, I consider all the options.
“Is that with real hot fudge for the sundae?” I counter skeptically.
“Yeah, real hot fudge,” she replies poking around the spacious refrigerator. “And there’s whipped cream for the pie!”
Opting “to leave no dessert behind” we devoured both offerings and finished off a bottle of fine red wine. I’ve never slept better in my life.
Future larger Jules’ Lodges are on the drawing boards. “We have been approached by many developers from around the world. The basic design has been completed. Future hotels will feature an original design using concrete and acrylic. They will be substantially larger and provide gracious comfort with spectacular views through six foot diameter windows,” says designer Dr. Monney.
Yeah, probably with dancing girls and a live band. Where do I sign up?
A Dog’s Tale… Wagging Goodbye
March 24th, 2011
Everyone is aware of the terrible tragedy that took place in Japan with a 9.0 earthquake followed by a devastating tsunami wave that obliterated entire areas of their country’s northeast coastal areas and has killed estimate 20,000 persons thus far.
By a unique series of circumstances, I found myself directly in the path of the same tsunami as it raced across the Pacific to hit Hawaii. For me, it was a collision of tragedies on several levels. The morning of Thursday March 10th began as I was gathering up my diving gear and photo equipment in my hotel in the oceanside town of Lahaina on Maui. I had an assignment to do a topside and underwater site inspection on a remote area of offshore Lanai Island’s western lee shore. I do litigation consulting and expert witness work in the diving and maritime fields and had been hired to extensively survey and photograph an area known as Shark Fin Rock where a diving fatality had occurred in 2007.
Princess rests in her car seat on the way to veterinary hospital before passing away the morning of March 10th
I was to meet with renowned oceanographer and big wave surfing pioneer Prof. Rick Grigg, Ph.D. of the University of Hawaii who would accompany me on the boat trip. Just as I was grabbing my bags to meet Rick, my cell phone rang. It was my wife Gretchen back in Maine with very sad news. Some dear friends of ours, Jim and Pamela Graham of Dallas, has just suffered the death of their beloved dog Princess only a few minutes before. She didn’t make it though an operation to solve an obstructive breathing disorder that affected her chronically as she had aged.
For those of you who know me, I’m the quintessential dog lover. In fact, many would say that I like dogs more than most people. There’s just something deep in a dog’s makeup that bonds with me and I become passionately and emotionally attached to my canine friends in a way that’s difficult to articulate. For reasons that I can’t explain, I am able to mentally detach sufficiently from the loss of humans that I can manage to bear their passing… but when my dog friends die, I completely crumble in grief. I guess I think that it’s the duty of us humans to protect our animals and make certain that nothing happens to them. Even if we take extraordinary measures and spare no expense, we still feel such a devastating loss and always ask ourselves if we could have somehow done more. I know… I’m a total wimp.
Princess resided with the Grahams whom I had originally met back in March of 1975 when they were on their honeymoon in St. Croix. I taught them to dive through my first diving operation called V. I. Divers Ltd. and we’ve been lifelong friends ever since. We share time in our various homes as well as trips all over the world. I’d known Princess for nearly a decade and she had a special place in my heart. Whenever I was with her, she spent the time in my lap or curled up next to me. Immediately, I choked up and the tears began. I managed to ask Gretchen to send my condolences to the Grahams and hung up the phone. It took me another ten minutes to pull myself together to be able to get down to the lobby to meet Rick and take off for Lanai. I didn’t want a macho Waimea Bay surfing legend and distinguished scientist to know I’d been brought to my knees in grief when a friend’s dog died.
The lee bay where Shark Fin Rock is located is tranquil before the tsunami hit later
The ocean was odd that morning. I’m used to storms, hurricanes, and all sorts of bad weather at sea where I’ve spent my whole life and professional career. That day was bright sunshine and clear skies but the trade winds had reversed. The swells were steep, confused, and blocky with little period between wave so we pounded our way nearly two hours over to the bay where Shark Fin Rock was located. Once there, we were almost completely protected. Steep vertical cliffs over a thousand feet high rise sharply from the water and we eased into position so I could dive over and secure us to a permanent underwater mooring. We decided to get the underwater phase of our work done first so we geared up for the dive that would have us traverse the shallow pinnacle down to depths in the 100 foot range at the bottom of a precipitous drop-off. Rick, at age 74, is still an active diver and surfer as well as being one of the top oceanographers in the world. He’s a remarkable individual and one of my heroes since I was teenager surfing back in the mid-1960s. I was thrilled to meet him in my legal work decades later. Since then, we’ve worked several cases together and shared some great times.
We rendezvoused underwater… me with my camera gear and him with his sketch slates, compasses, and diagrams to chart the area’s topography. After 40 minutes, we surfaced and commenced another procedure to release a green dye in the water to measure the relative drift direction and speed of the prevailing current that was a factor in the fatality. Rick handled the dye, taking the compass bearings and azimuths, and time-keeping while I shot photography of the long stream of green trailings that now marked the path of the current as it preceded offshore. Finally, I shot images of the topside area and we re-packed our gear for the trip back to Maui.
As soon as we rounded the point, we again found ourselves pounding into the steep swells making it an uncomfortable ride. Our aching backs and legs were distracted by frequent sightings of humpback whales that surfaced nearby in the channel to give us a peek and blow a hello as we cruised by. As we got closer to Lahaina, the lee took affect again and our seas calmed.
We relaxed now knowing our work had gone well and that we’d shortly be back ashore to stability. As we departed our boat, Rick and I shook hands and he was rushed off to the Maui airport by the captain to get back to Oahu. As I was coming into my hotel, I encountered a lady selling Hawaiian leis of fresh tropical flowers and I spontaneously bought one in Princess’s memory and to honor her passing earlier that morning. I left my dive gear and cameras in the lobby and waved down a fellow in another boat and asked him if he’d mind taking me offshore a little way to drop the lei for Princess in the water to drift off with the tide into the sunset. He agreed and told me he was happy to help as he was dog lover, too.
The beautiful sunset of March 10th as I set Princess's lei off to sea
As I eased the lei into the water, this kind stranger recited this brief verse with me:
“Remembering”
As my spirt leaves this bow
Remember that I am with you now
I am the waves upon the sea
Your smiles and tears are full of me
I am the island winds that blow
I am the evening stars that glow
I am the rainbows in the sky
The morning light, the clouds up high
A part of you I will always be
My name is Princess
Remember me…
I also included a passage from a traditional mariner’s perspective on a loved one’s passing. It’s another we use in a lot in sea burials to celebrate those that passed.
The Ship Passes
I am standing upon the seashore. A ship departs the harbor and spreads her sails to the morning breeze and starts for the blue ocean. She is an object of beauty and strength and I watch her until, at length, she hangs like a speck of white cloud just where the sea and sky come down to mingle with each other.
Then someone at my side says, “There, she’s gone.”
Gone? Gone where? Gone from my sight… that is all. She is still as large in mast and spar as when she filled my eyes departing her anchorage. She is just as able to bear her load of heavy cargo to the place of destination. She is still just as grand and elegant bent to the wind hurrying her onward.
Her diminished size is only in me, not in her.
Just at that minute when the one at my side laments, “There, she’s gone” there are eager eyes watching her coming on a new horizon beyond us.
And other voices ready to take up the glad shout, “Here, she comes!”
My hotel located only eight feel above sea level in Lahaina on Maui... I was on the third floor
I went back to my room on the third floor and fell asleep, physically and emotionally exhausted. Later that night about 10:30PM, a piercing siren went off just outside my balcony to warn of an approaching tsunami. I nearly levitated off the bed from a deep sleep. I turned on the television news to learn that there had been a devastating earthquake and tsunami in Japan. The entire Hawaiian islands were on emergency evacuation alert orders to get to higher ground as the tsunami headed our way and was expected to hit us about 3:00AM. It was utter chaos as the town of Lahaina tried to evacuate thousands of people in less than five hours. You cannot imagine the anxiety and total craziness that ensued as people fled in cars, mopeds, bikes, and on foot to gain higher elevation. I carefully watched the tsunami track on TV and decided that I would be safe enough in my third floor hotel room and declined to be evacuated. I was one of only two persons that stayed in the hotel. Another gentleman, 75 years old, remained on the 7th floor.
At 1:00AM I went down to the lobby to let the resort manager know that I was going to stay. He graciously said it was okay with him but if the police came around they might force me to evacuate. Again the mind-numbing shriek of the tsunami warning siren went off and I noticed a small puppy that was cowering under a counter in terror. Knowing that if left alone, the wave would probably drown it, I spent nearly a half hour coaxing her into my arms and took her up to my room where I hoped we’d be reasonably safe.
When the wave hit at 3:21AM it was pitch dark but you could hear the shriek of the oncoming water. It was about 10 feet high in some areas where it surged almost a half mile inland causing massive damage in some areas that is still being cleaned up. The people that had been evacuated to higher ground spent that night in cars or out on the ground and couldn’t come back until nearly noon the next day on Friday the 11th. The whole town of Lahaina was empty… a literal ghost town.
In the morning, I went down to ground level to look at the damage. My new puppy friend bounded eagerly along with me. As I walked along the shore, she began to bark frantically and began jumping against the trunk of a palm tree. I looked back and there in the palm’s branches, right in front of my room, hung the lei that I had put out at sunset the night before for Princess. It had been carried back to Maui by the tsunami and was undamaged hanging about 12 feet above the ground in the palm fronds. It glittered in the morning sun like it was waving to me. As the puppy madly wagged her tail at the flowers, I realized her tail was in perfect cadence with the lei’s motion.
I think Princess came back to watch over me and was gently wagging at me to let me know that she was alright and that she was glad to see that I was, too.
I left it hanging there and all day people commented about the mysterious lei that had survived the tsunami. I think it inspired a whole bunch of people who were coming down from a terrifying night. As my newest best friend, the puppy, bounced into my arms I noticed her collar had a phone number etched into a tag. I reached into my pocket for my cell phone and dialed it.
A distraught young woman answered and broke into tears when I told her I had found her dog. She thought I meant its dead body. But I assured her that her pet was fine and it had spent the night with me in bed and was eager to be reunited. The woman had been evacuated from her home and separated from her beloved dog when the sirens frightened it and caused the dog to run away. Luckily, providence led her to me. The woman set a new land speed record to the hotel and I passed the puppy to her. We shook hands in silence. Nothing needed to be said.
I finally got out of Hawaii late Friday after the airports reopened and flights resumed late in the afternoon. I got home Saturday evening to Maine after having not slept in nearly 54 hours. My own dog Duffy jumped excitedly to welcome me home. It was the first time that I could really see the news about the terrible destruction, both in Japan and parts of Hawaii. USA Today reported,”Hawaii officials estimated that the powerful tsunami generated from the Japan earthquake caused tens of millions of dollars in damage to ports, roads, and homes in the state and expect massive declines in tourism as a result. The tsunami swept through the islands before dawn Friday and flooded some coastal businesses, hotels, sank boats, and tore apart piers and infrastructure. The worst damage occurred in Maui and the Big Island of Hawaii.”
It was reported that when the tsunami hit the vertical face of the cliffs at Lanai, that sea water and debris were found as high as the summit… over 1000 feet above sea level. Rick Grigg and I had been there only ten hours before it hit.
Dogs are my favorite things in life. They are our best friends. Although they sometimes leave us before we’re ready for them to go, I do think we will catch up later with them. Princess caught up with me that night and stayed to greet me that morning.
It’s nice to know I had a friend along looking after me in Maui that night…
