Floating Bob

In my last post I talked about how myself and two buddies ended up in a tight situation when one of us, Bob, passed out at depth.  We were 138' down, with no anchor line, in a current with a deco obligation, no reel and no float. We're now trying to get Bob back.  The  other guy in the "we" is Bob's regular buddy, Dave (both are pseudonyms).  I think that just about sums it up.


As we started to rise in the current, keeping all three of us together was a bit of a challenge.  Both Dave and I were managing Bob's buoyancy but, because we were hunting, we had all packed on some extra lead to keep us glued to the sandy bottom.  This meant we needed to choose between adding lots of air to our BCs to lift him or adding some air to all of us and carefully managing his buoyancy.  Dave pumped a bit of air into Bob's BC as we left the bottom but he was still quite negative as we ascended.

At 50' Bob suddenly showed signs of life.  Then he got combative - very agitated.  He was scared, confused and clearly didn't like the fact that Dave and I were each holding onto his webbing with one hand and one arm with the other.  He was really hard to handle. Faced with him knocking one of our regs out we each released him.  Bob responded by dropping away, making no effort to stabilize his buoyancy.  I dumped air and went after him catching him about 10' down.  This time we made it clear to him that he was out of the running-his-own-ascent business. Privately I made the decision that, if Bob started fighting us again, I was going to try to make him positive and send him up but positive or not, I would have to let him go..  We were too low on air to mess around and I was definitely going to make it home.  Later, Steve told me that he made the same decision.  Neither of us was going to let this spiral into the loss of three divers.

 The good news was that we'd cleared our 50' ceiling while messing around with Bob and were now cleared to 30' for our next stop.  All the while, we are drifting further from the boat.  After clearing 30' without incident we FINALLY began our safety stop.  After a couple of minutes, I couldn't take the continued drifting and decide to pop up and see where we were with respect to the boat and give them a signal.  As I waved my arm to show distress, Dave and Bob surfaced next to me.  Anchored and with divers in the water, our dive boat could not come and get us.  We were going to have to swim into the current, dragging Bob.  Meanwhile, the crew of the dive boat let out all of their safety line and more (other nylon lines were thankfully on board).  Though working hard, we were making little headway but at least the drifting safety line was getting closer and closer.

Finally catching the line, we told John he was going to have to haul his own ass home.   As all of us pulled had over hand toward the boat, Dave and I were spent.  By the time we reached the boat, I was a tangled mess of safety line.  Apparently the float had caught on my tank and I'd dragged most of the line back with me.

On board, Bob was a lot more lucid.  He told us that he hadn't been feeling well that morning but wanted to dive the whole weekend.  He explained that, while on the line, he'd experience an episode of vertigo at 45'.  But it cleared after a minute or so and he continued the dive.  I told him that was f*#@ing awful decision that very nearly cost him his life.  He should have scrubbed the dive - no question.

They say that any dive you come back from is a good dive.  I beg to differ - that sucked!! Looking back, I'm amazed we succeeded.  We did so many things wrong that we really didn't deserve to.  
  1. Bob should have scrubbed the dive.
  2. We should have checked with Bob about his problem when we hit bottom.  We had a slate.
  3. We should have put a strobe on the anchor line.  The viz was pretty fair - we definitely would have seen it (actually, its probably a good idea for many of us to carry one to hook onto  the line if the dive boat doesn't - I'll try to review some in a follow-up post).
  4. Apparently putting the reg back and purging it isn't the recommended approach (you can over-pressure the guys lungs, I think).  The recommended procedure is to send the guy up buoyant so the folks at the surface can begin to treat him - but I'd love to hear different opinions here.
  5. We should have turned back sooner.  This wasn't a planned deco dive and we pushed it to the limit.  When things went bad we had no margin of error.
  6. We didn't have reels or bags to tie off to control our drift.  This would have been a huge psychological plus as well.  In my opinion, everyone who diving in a current from a fixed boat (i.e. not a planned drift dive should carry at least a finger reel and large size safety sausage.  I now carry a small, ventable bag and a wreck reel with a ton of line on every dive over 70'.  It's a variable drag reel so, instead of blowing a bag, I can just let line out as I ascend.
  7. We should have had more air.  Right after this I switched to steel 120s and I make sure I have more than enough air to handle a rescue and get myself back.  I also carry a pony for deeper dives.  That is really a redundancy thing but it came in useful on another rescue (see Big Guy Out Of Gas).
  8. We didn't dump Bob's weights - I have no excuse.  In fact, we all could have dropped our extra poundage (beyond what we needed to be neutral) and the task loading on the ascent would have been WAY less.
  9. We didn't dump the damn lobsters!!!  In the confusion, we forgot all about them but those goodie bags were a major source of drag on the swim back to the boat.
  10. Oh yeah, and Bob should have scrubbed the dive nullifying items 3 to 9.

I'm sure there are many more lessons here - feel free to add to the list.  We also did some things right that might have tipped the balance in our favor.
  1. For two guys who didn't usually dive together, Dave and I worked really well together.  He's a great diver and either I was a great asset to him or the other way around.  Either way, it was good to have a team mate.
  2. We didn't panic - well, ok, I'll admit to panicking when the reg was out but, after the initial burst of adrenaline, I calmed down and we worked the problem the best we could.
  3. We were both very fit.  That was actually a huge part of the rescue and not just on the swim back.  
On the way home I totalled up the costs for the hunt: $150 for hotel, $330 for boat, $ 60 for fills plus food and tip- that's one expensive way to get some lobster ... so we saved it for a special occasion:)

Dive safely,

Phil

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DAN on IPE

Hi. Just a quick note on Immersion Pulmonary Edema. DAN has a good summary on IPE.

http://www.diversalertnetwork.org/medical/articles/article.asp?articleid=82

I think the symptoms are accurate and all divers need to be aware. I would add that hyperventilation was also present in my case as I failed to rid my body of CO2. However, I don't agree with the suggestion that divers return to diving. I know of at least one fatality due to IPE in a diver who suffered a prior incident. In my opinion, returning to diving when the recurrence rate is finite but unknown is irresponsible as it may place a buddy at risk.

Dive safe,

Phil



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Diver Unconscious - No Reg

To get NC lobsters you need to dive to 130+ feet so it's right on the edge of recreational.  On the other hand, NC lobsters are HUGE!  With no active fishery, these suckers grow to as much as 15 lbs (probably more) and run around the bottom like a pack of dogs.  It's quite an experience!  If you want to go, I suggest calling Bobby Cox, captain of the Diver Down, and ask him to take you to the Live Bottom site.  We weren't on his boat this particular morning nor at that site but there's a ton of "bugs" out there and the current is way easier than some other sites.

We splashed for our second dive around 10:30 am.  There were three of us, let's call the other guys Dave and Bob.  Heading down the line the order was Bob in the lead, then me, then Dave.  At about 45' Bob stopped descending.  Dave and I held our positions above him, our bodies horizontal in a stiffer than usual current.  After about a minute, Bob started to descend again and we were back in business.  A quick, buddy check at the bottom, check depth (136') and air; the hunt was on!

For starters, we were really BAD!  This was my first trip and while I'd figured out how to catch the spiny beasts by this point in the weekend, I was clueless about  how to stuff a ten-pound, writhing mass of spines and spikes into a mesh bag.  I caught four in all. The three big ones beat the crap out of me and took off, having shredded my dive gloves. Somehow I managed to get the last, admittedly smaller, one into my bag.  Looking to my right, I saw that Dave had also managed a success (though with a substantially more hefty lobster, grrr).  Checking my computer, I saw we were out of bottom time and turned to Bob and gave him a thumbs up.  He flashed me an OK and I turned and had the same exchange with Dave who was lovingly inspecting his catch.  It took just a minute or so to get his attention.

The anchor line was to our left but when I turned to head that way I was stunned by what I saw.  Bob was unconscious (or barely conscious - the lights were on but there was definitely nobody home).  His eyes stared, unblinking.  Worse still, he wasn't breathing!  His reg was out!  Acting on impulse, I purged his reg and shoved it in his mouth (perhaps not the best thing to do but there seemed little downside).  Thankfully, amazingly, he started breathing and coughing.  I held the reg in to make sure he didn't spit it out again.

I looked at Dave.  There really should be a sign for WTF???  He had no idea what to do either.  So I tried to bring Bob back to us by shaking, pinching and otherwise abusing him. Nothing worked. All the while precious minutes were ticking by. We were starting build a small but significant deco obligation.

We decided to head up with Bob.  I asked which way to the anchor line and got a shrug in response.  It was like the adrenaline-fueled action with Bob had wiped clean my short term memory.  Everything, in every direction, looked the same.  Neither of us had any idea where the anchor line was.  We were at 138' with an unconscious diver, a deco obligation and a fair current.  No bag, no wreck reel, no way to tie off.  We were screwed!!

next time - Floating Bob
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No Substitute for Practice

Three years ago, while diving in Lake Rawlings quarry in Southern Virginia, my dive buddy and I encountered a frantic and exhausted diver at the surface.  Between thrashes we got the idea that his buddy was missing somewhere in the area.  Looking down, I could barely see twenty feet.  I hoped he was somewhere close.  My buddy stayed with the guy on the surface, inflating his BC and rolling him onto his back to rest.  As I descended, the guy started freaking out again - we had our hands full!

At 40 ffw I reached the bottom.  The midsummer sun had warmed the quarry considerably and algae was in full bloom.  The viz was 10 feet at best.  I began a grid search, arbitrarily picking my right side to work first.  10 kicks, turn, 10 kicks, turn ...  On the third pass, I spotted the victim motionless and face down among the algae.  Bass and bluegills clustered around him in the murk, scattering as I approached.

He was a big guy, maybe 6'6", fit looking.  Turning him over, his eyes stared unblinkingly into mine.  I hauled him to a vertical position and began our ascent.  Arriving at the surface, I spotted my buddy churning away toward the dock with the now pacified surface swimmer in tow.  I inflated both of our BCs and pulled the reg for my victim's mouth.  At least there was a chance he hadn't drowned.   Kicking with both legs, I rose out slightly and began rescue breaths.  After several breaths and no response, I began kicking toward others who were heading out to meet me.  In a macabre parody of my earlier search, we fell into a rhythm.  10 kicks, breath, 10 kicks, breath.  For a quarter of a mile!

After what seemed like an endless swim, he suddenly coughed into my face and came to, thrashing his way back to life.  I positioned myself behind his tank, knees on either side and held him steady until he calmed down.  By that time the other divers had arrived and, together, we towed him to shore.  As we entered the shallows, he broke character and slapped me on the back.  "Well done! Really good job!"

Polar Bear Plunge 2007: Rescue divers getting inImage by Earl - What I Saw 2.0 via FlickrThe 'rescue' was the finale of our rescue diver courser led by Zane Frye of Richmond Dive & Travel.  A former military man, Zane had put us through an exhausting two days of drills, skills and thrills.  Along with several nights of classroom work we had learned what to do and had developed many of the skills to do it.  It was one of the best times I have ever had diving.

Though I had several rescues under my belt, these had been ad hoc efforts.  Through the course I had the opportunity to learn and fail without someone's life being at risk.  A year later, I used many of these skills in rescuing a diver out of gas at 100'. A year after that, I used the skills to plan my own rescue as I fought a medical problem on a dive.

Rescue courses are offered by PADI, NAUI and most of the major certification providers worldwide.  
Here's a partial list:

PADI - Rescue Diver Primary & Secondary Care Course


TDI/SDI Rescue Diver

NAUI Rescue Diver


If you have a weekend free, I highly recommend taking one, perhaps with your regular buddy if you have one.  You will have a ball, you'll be a better diver and it may well save your life.

Dive safely.
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Best Diving Advice EVER! (and some stuff about the psychology of survival)

Spoiler Alert - if you haven't seen the movie 127 Hours, and have no idea what happened to Aaron Ralston, and didn't read his bestseller "Between A Rock And A Hard Place", and still somehow care about seeing the flick for the shocking ending, go watch it now before proceeding.  


A few months ago, my family and I watched the movie 127 Hours.  It is the story of Aron Ralston's fight to survive after getting trapped in a slot canyon, alone and beyond help.  In the end, he cuts off his arm below the elbow to get free and then hikes out.  At the edge of his endurance, dehydrated and weak, he spots, on the trail ahead of him, hikers who may be his salvation.  He tries to yell to get their attention.  All that comes out is a croak.  At this point I, very uncharacteristically, went to pieces.


I had been getting more and more tense as I saw him move in slow motion (relative to a dive accident) through the phases of survival.  However it was the croaking and its link to my own IPE accident in June 2010 that really struck home.  Wracked by sobs, I was overwhelmed by the dread I felt in the face of death by drowning, the guilt I felt about passing my son to a friend when I could no longer be his buddy, and the relief that I was alive.  Later, I was able to talk to my wife for the first time about the experience.  Not the events (this happened, then this happened, and so on) but the battle that raged between my ears as I fought for survival.  I'll do my best to describe that process here.


Richie KohlerImage via WikipediaBut let me start with something practical.  The very best advice I have ever received from any diver, I got from famed explorer Richie Kohler.  He was discussing the dangers of deep wreck diving and shared this thought which I have passed along to folks as "Kohler's Rule": When facing an incident underwater, be it entrapment, a bad reg, zero viz or whatever, Richie advises to stave off panic by checking two things. 1. Am I still breathing? (if not, you are in seriously deep shit), 2. Can I grab my ass? (If not you may be mired in deep shit).  It's brilliantly simple.  What Ritchie was trying to point out is that most if not all problems are solvable if you have time and mobility.  Free flowing reg? Still breathable? Still have mobility?  Great!  Then work the problem! 


Kohler's Rule is both funny and profound but, most importantly, it is very memorable!  Please pass it along, with attribution to the divers you know.  It saved my life (thanks Richie).


Ok, so back to the accident


In June of 2010, I experienced Immersion Pulmonary Edema during a dive off the North Carolina coast.  Coughing started at 50' and became wore and worse culminating in near-respiratory arrest after reaching the boat.  While rare, IPE is a terrifying condition because one leaks fluid from their blood stream into the lungs without aspirating any seawater.  You drown from within.  


When I had the first cough at 50 fsw, I thought nothing of it.  I didn't commonly cough underwater but, apart from the odd, metallic taste, it didn't raise any concern.  (Stage 1: DENIAL)


But the second cough sure as Heck did!  Followed quickly by a third! (Stage 2: RECOGNITION)


At 30 fsw I was coughing continuously.  Already my diaphram was struggling to pull breaths in between the spasms.


Stage 3: ASSESSMENT: My mind moved into a sort of triage:

  • OK on Kohler's Rule? Check! But check back in a few minutes.
  • Depth? Now 30'.
  • Noah (my son) OK? Ascending normally. Check!
  • Lots of air? Check!
  • Cause of cough? No idea (tingling of panic).
  • Apply Kohler's Rule.  Check!
Stage 4: PLANNING: Though wracked with coughs, my training was kicking in.  I knew I was in trouble and I knew I needed a plan for the next few minutes.  Here's what I came up with:
  • Goal: Get Noah and I safely out of the water.
  • Ascend normally to the hang line.
  • Complete 3 minute stop
  • If unable to complete stop, hand Noah off to Tim (who was on the line already)
  • If symptoms unresolved, surface immediately behind the boat, inflate BC and declare an emergency.
I probably could have taken Noah straight to Tim and surfaced.  I could have surfaced immediately, etc.  But the important thing for me was that I had a plan, any plan.  By working the plan, I was able to balance things a little:  on the negative side, your symptoms are getting worse and you're over-breathing your reg, but on the plus side, you're on the hang line and 1 minute into your safety stop - almost home! Yay!

By the timeI was on the hang line, I was still trying to sort through the possible causes as I started to hyperventilate.  I was really over-breathing my reg but I could not stop.  It was reflexive.  Everything I tried to slow my breathing failed.  What was weird was how my brain interpreted this.  Part of my brain sent a very clear message:  IT'S THE REG!!! SPIT THE REG OUT!!  It was insane!  I have never before had the feeling of two brains in one head but the argument that raged was intense and fighting the urge to do something fatally stupid was a tremendous strain. (Apply Kohler's Rule: Breathing? Ass? Ok, then, work the plan.)

Stage 5: ACCEPTANCE: About 2 minutes into the stop, it became clear that I was going into respiratory arrest. If I stayed, I would die and likely take Noah with me.  I put Noah's hand in Tim's and signaled them to buddy up.  Hoping beyond hope that they understood (neither was aware of what was happening for me), I ascended.

Stage 6: NEAR-PANIC:  Surfacing was very strange.  Thus far, I had kept panic at bay, moving calmly through my normal routine and plan.  As I approached the surface, I revised the plan to include a big arm wave to get attention.  But when I reached the surface, panic hit me like a freight train.  Every fiber of my being wanted to be on that boat.  The only thing I can compare it to is the feeling I had after first jumping out of a plane into free fall.  That momentary sensation that each of my cells are trying to get back into the plane (which, since it is not trailing flames and smoke, seems a much safer place to be) threatening to break loose if necessary.

I clawed at the swim step and croaked, "Can't Breathe! Can't Breathe!!"  Turning to Dave on the ladder, I croaked, "Get the F*@K off!!" and was hauled bodily from the water by the Diver Down's excellent crew.  Now on board, I expected to feel relief as I coughed up whatever was causing the issue.  Instead, I collapsed and felt a wave of horror at the realization that whatever was wrong was probably going to kill me.

I was physically and mentally exhausted, in respiratory arrest (or near to) and hypoxic.  Lacking oxygen, my brain began to shut down.I became calm, accepting death as a less horrible alternative than my current reality.  What kept me going was the support and encouragement of my buddies.  Noah at my head, Roy wrapped around my body saying, "It's Ok. We got you buddy! Stay with us." Sharky in my face imploring me to breathe in the offered oxygen.  Even a little bit.  There was for me a point where my will failed. I survived on the will of the people around me.  Noah gave me an immediate, tangible reason to live.  Roy pushed the pain and panic back.  Sharky, eyes unblinking inches from my face, had a line directly into my brain.  He said "breathe", I breathed.  He said "come on, give me another, brother", I strained for another breath, and so on.  For two hours as we raced back to shore.

Thankfully, I survived.  It is so hard to capture the emotions of the day and very hard to imagine that most of it happened in just a few minutes stretched to an eternity by suffering.  I hope some of this makes sense, that Kohler's Rule sticks with you as it has with me, and that the telling in some small way prepares you to be a better buddy or, if you are so unfortunate, to be a more successful victim.  If there's a final lesson, I feel it would be this: In an accident, your presence of mind and careful action, be it underwater or on the surface, be you victim or rescuer, could be the difference between life and death.  

Safe Diving,

Phil

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First Responders Day

Washington, D.C. firefighterImage via Wikipedia
A few hours ago, a friend from St. Louis texted me a reminder to think of the firefighters and police who lost their lives on 9/11.  I assume it was from Dave or Sharkey. my long-time dive buddies who h
elped me survive last year's IPE accident - coaxing breaths into me on the rocking deck of the Diver Down.  Both experienced first responders, they were there when I needed them - skilled, trained, ready, willing and able.  As Sharky once said after a night of beer and war stories, "The thing is, Phil, no-one is every sorry to see us!!"  Very true.

It is easy to forget that our lives, our way of life and our loved ones rest in the safe comfort of the protection  our first responders provide.  Be they police, firefighters, coast guard, emergency room staff, or EMTs, they train constantly to be able to put their bodies and themselves in harm's way to protect us when we are no longer able to protect ourselves.

While in past years the focus on the news and on television has been on the acts of 9/11, this year was significant in its focus on the victims and the heroes of the day.  I propose that we declare September 11th to be First Responders Day, on which we remember the tens of thousands of men and women who dedicate their lives to protecting ours.

If you agree, please up-tweet this with the hash tag #firstrespondersday.

Be safe and, to all the first responders out there, thank you for life.

Phil


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FREE Dive Medicine E-Book

Dr. Carl Edmunds (see my last post) is co-author of the excellent, Diving Medicine for Scuba Divers,  on dive medicine.  They have also released the book as a free e-book that you can load onto your ipad, computer or smart-phone.  Its a great read.


To load the book onto your ipad or iphone, save it to your computer, then open iTunes and choose "Add To Library" under the "File" menu.  Next time you synch, it will be added to your iOS bookshelf.


Dive Safely


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Australian IPE deaths

Hi guys,


I got a call from John Lippman and Carl Edmunds on behalf of DAN Asia Pacific.  They're investigating two Immersion Pulmonary Edema fatalities. They shared with me a couple of pieces of info that are worth passing along:


- IPE has at least a 30% recurrence rate
- in at least one case, the diver completed 53 post-IPE dives before their fatal incident
- IPE in divers appears to be distinct from IPE in world class triathletes and military divers
- divers who have experienced IPE may also experience it while snorkeling or swimming


Their research and the work continuing at Duke are key to unraveling the mystery of IPE.  DAN membership dollars support their work.


As for me, I don't like those odds.  I'm out of the water (again, sigh) until I get  more facts on my exposure.


I'll pass along updates when I hear more.


Dave safely!


Phil



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Dive Wisdom from a Monk

After another hiatus, I am back to blogging ... and diving.


A couple of weeks ago, our family headed to Oahu for a long awaited vacation.  I was looking forward to the trip and more than excited about the prospect of seeing Hawaii for the first time.  It didn't disappoint.  We stayed on the windward side and awakened to cooling trade winds and the pound of the surf outside our beachfront home on Kailua Bay.  While the windward coast has fewer dive spots than the leeward and north shore, Kailua is the perfect beach town and nowhere on the island is more than an hour and a half's drive.  All in all, very hard to hate!


This was also my first return to diving since my accident last June.  As then, I would be diving with my son, Noah.  But, for the first time in many, many years, my wife Tonya joined us.  It was an awesome combination!


Our first dives were at Shark's Cove on the North Shore.  Named for the shape of the small bay (not man-eaters lurking in the shadows unfortunately) this extremely popular dive site was a perfect point of re-entry.  After leaving the snorkelers behind in the shallows, visibility really opened up to around 40'.  Ryan Carr of Aaron's Dive Shop in Kailua was our guide. If you're headed to Oahu, I strongly recommend hooking up with Ryan - he's a terrific diver and really knowledgeable.  But, more important still, he's a great guy to hang out with.


A Hawaiian Monk Seal resting and sunbathing on...Image via Wikipedia
About half way through our second dive as I emerged from a swim through I spotted some big pieces of gray rubber sticking out of a hole in the lava.  I assumed it was an inner-tube or old wetsuit.  I was wrong, the rubber turned out to be the fins of an adult Hawaiian Monk Seal (I'm smiling with glee even as I write this) who was taking a nap in the reef.  While keeping a respectful distance we all got a peek without waking him and proce

eded with our dive.  At the end of the dive, I grabbed a camera and went back for a couple of shots.  I took one of him sleeping (from quite a distance, hence the murk) and then backed off to work on my camera.  While I was making adjustments however, our new friend decided that we were the one's worthy of checking out and he swam up to meet the divers and snorkelers at the surface.  It was an incredible moment ... the kids snorkeling and we divers were in awe of his/her beauty and sat transfixed and unmoving.  The seal checked us out, caught its breath and headed back down for an other nap.  Absolutely amazing!


The whole experience was so incredibly laid back that it calmed the nervous voice in my head that was worrying about the return to diving.  Chill, he seemed to say.   And so I did.  


We had a great week diving on and off.  We found the much touted Haunama Bay to really beautiful WELL outside the reef if the viz is good but not really worth the hassle of the swim in through the rip that carries you out.  On the other hand, Electric Beach was exceptional (sharks, eels, a turtle and dolphins) and really easy shore dive.  I'd also recommend Turtle Canyon off Waikiki beach if the swell isn't up.  We didn't have good viz but we saw a ton of turtles.

Lastly, I want to plug a great site I was turned onto by the great folks at Ocean Concepts in Pearl Harbor.  It's Shorediving.com.  Boat dives are great but shore dives have always been my favorites.  This site is, in my opinion, the best all around resource for shore divers with lots of the local knowledge that is essential to a fun and safe experience at a new site.  I highly recommend checking them out when planning your next trip.



Dive safely.
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Tube Tied

An enlargeable satellite image of Grand Cayman...Image via Wikipedia In 2003, I was fortunate enough to go to the Cayman Islands to take an advanced course and have nice vacation with my family. In addition to the instructors, there were several other divers from Richmond joining us on the trip. One of the divers, whom I shall call "Martha", was a nurse and an apparently experienced diver. She was vacationing with her friend, "Brenda", and experienced firefighter EMT.

On day two of the trip, we were fortunate enough to dive the outer walls of the reef surrounding Grand Cayman Island. Grand Cayman is surrounded by deep ocean and a coral wall that stretches from approximate 70 feet below the surface to almost 6000 feet (or so I've heard). The coral formations are truly breathtaking and the government has done an excellent job of preserving the reef and marine life  through captive breeding programs, carefully managed anchor points, and limitations on the number of divers in the water in any given week. One of the exotic species of coral that many folks wish to see in Grand Cayman in is the black coral which, paradoxically, does not appear to be black. It's long branching arms reach out into the current rising from the depths against the reef wall like a Mesquite tree in a desert.

On this dive the bottom was set at 110 feet. We entered the coral canyons at 70 feet and proceeded through tubes of overreaching coral arches festooned with colorful corals and sponges.  In some cases, arches joined together to create tubes which completely surrounded divers in beautiful coral formations. One such tube began at about 75 feet with a diameter of about 15 feet. It angled down through the reef reaching a maximum ceiling depth of about 100 feet  and a maximum diameter of about 45 feet.  as we swam through the coral tube,  one diver, Martha, appeared to be following the bottom contours while most of the divers were suspended close to or at the ceiling. This placed Martha at a depth of almost 145 feet. Oblivious to her surroundings, she appeared completely unaware of the danger she was in diving to 145 feet, on-air, with only 80 ft.³ of gas. As the dive master moved to alert her, her bubbles suddenly stopped. She was out of gas.

Martha turned abruptly and wide-eyed for the rest the group.  When the dive master reached her, she snatched the regulator he offered and breathed greedily from his tank.  Having only 80 ft.³ of air himself, the dive master was forced to make a rapid ascent with Martha to ensure they were able to get back to the boats with any air left. This left the rest of us out on the reef without the necessary compass headings or local knowledge to return to the boat. Instead, we swam along the reef below the rescue pair and followed their shadows back to safety.

 Later I thought about what happened and how it could've been prevented. In retrospect several things could've been done to reduce the risk of this dive.
  1.  The pre-dive briefing did not include the description of the dangers of the coral tube.   It was easy once in the tube to lose track of the fact that we were descending at a fairly steep angle. Had this specific danger been raised, it is undoubtedly true that  Martha would have been much more aware of her surroundings as we traveled to the outer wall.
  2. Given the maximum depth, or rather the potential maximum depth of 145 feet, it is questionable whether air was the appropriate gas for most of the divers. At that depth, Martha made it clear, nitrogen narcosis was a serious risk. She had been completely unaware of either her depth, or her gas utilization during the dive. She  had also failed to see that she  had separated from the rest of the group.
  3. Again given the maximum depth, it is apparent that by diving and 80 ft.³ aluminum tank, the dive master had insufficient air to effect this kind of rescue without completing a somewhat more dangerous rapid ascent.  While all divers would've benefited from additional gas, as most of them returned with less than 500 psi remaining, it appears essential that the professional dive crew has sufficient gas to effect a rescue requiring them to provide gas in emergency such as this.
The other factor though that we didn't discuss, was Martha's level of fitness.  Although just  5'5" tall, she likely weighed in excess of 180 pounds.  While was unclear  how this additional weight affected her air consumption on the coral tube dive. But, two days later,  the weight became a serious liability on a shore dive at Eden's Rock.    More on that later.

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Sanctum Critique with some good diving messages

The Image via WikipediaI just came across this review of Sanctum.  He's not very positive about the movie but his analysis is interesting and though provoking.  He compares the recklessness of one of the characters to
being a serial killer.  Spolier Alert!!  He tells all, but, if you haven't seen the movie he also suggests an educational way to watch it that might make it better.

Dive Safely,

Phil
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Great Article on Breathing

Bronchi, bronchial tree, and lungs.Image via WikipediaHi folks,

I came across a site on dive fitness that looks really good.  I like this article in particular because it shows how developing improved cardiovascular fitness through swimming can help raise fitness levels in a myriad of ways.

Let me know what you think.

Dive Safely

Phil
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German Fit 2Dive

Diving pictureImage via WikipediaI came across this German fit2dive site but, due to bad planning, I can't vouch for the content. Does anyone know if it is any good?

Dive safely,

Phil

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Rocket Man!

British UGM-27 Polaris missile on display at I...Image via WikipediaOkay - here's an upfront spoiler ... nothing bad happens in this story. It's just an incredible tale that I find to be extremely funny! Think of it as a sorbet between more serious fit2dive meals. I hope you guys enjoy it.

A few years ago, I was invited to go on a "bug hunt" off North Carolina. For the uninitiated, this refers to a lobster hunt but, in North Carolina, the lobsters are unlike any I have come across. For starters, they are HUGE!!! Recently we served 6 of them to 22 fellow divers and friends and everyone was stuffed to the, uhm, "gills"! It is not uncommon to get 6 to 7 pounds of tail meat off one of these monsters. The other wild thing is that these babies run across the ground in the open like a pack of dogs. If you want to experience it for yourself, call Bobby Cox at the Diver Down in Morehead and tell him you want to go to the "Live Bottom" site. Bring a BIG goodie bag and LOTS of air! Anyway, back to the story....

This was new to me so I asked around about technique. Some said, catch them in the open and jump on their backs(??) (actually that turns out to be the right answer for reasons that will become obvious). Others advised the use of a wire loop to catch them by the tail and haul them out. This was my naive preference and I headed overboard with a dayglo green loop stick that, in retrospect, doubles as a newbie identification device!

As I headed down the line I ran into the guy, whom I will forever remember as Rocket Man, at about 20 feet. He was straining to get down and obviously seriously buoyant. In his exertion, he was blowing huge clouds of bubbles that completely obscured the view below. I flashed the OK sign and got one in return. Shrugging internally I headed down for my quarry.

The bottom was about 136 feet down (kind of deep for a lobster hunt but that's where you need to go to get big ones) on a sandy plane dotted with coral upgrowths and overhangs. To my immediate right was the biggest lobster I had ever seen. He was probably 8 to 10 pounds but, to me, he looked more like 20 to 30! Wasting no time I followed my instructions:

  1. Gently position the wire loop behing your lobster. - Check!
  2. Waggle your hand in front of him so he backs up into the loop - Check! (I was SOOOO good at this!!!)
  3. Pull the loop tight to capture your lobster!
OK - here's the issue with number 3. When you pull the loop tight you effectively change the species of your prey. Before pulling it tight, you (most likely a homo sapiens) and panullirus argus are locked in battle of wits in which you should have at least a slight advantage. After the pull, you basically have a "cannis familiaris in a verda", loosely "dog on a stick!" The lobster, quite understandably went completely nuts thrashing me all over the place. Before I knew it, he was gone, I was exhausted and my bottom time was up.

Reaching the boat, I found Rocket Man on board, dry and decidedly pissed off. After shedding my gear and grabbing a sandwich I went over to chat. I learned that RM was a spear-fisherman from Florida visiting North Carolina with his family. He told me his first dive had been aborted coz he couldn't get down. I sympathized and asked about his gear. It turned out that he was wearing a 7mm 2 piece wetsuit (tunic over a farmer john). "Wow", I said, "That's a lot for out here inthe Gulf Stream, I'm diving a 3 mm. How much weight did you use?" Expecting an answer of 22 to 28 lbs given his height and presumed weight, I was blown away when he answered "A lot! 14 pounds!"

I think I just stared dumbly at him for a second or two because he asked, "Why? Isn't that enough?" We chatted for a few minutes and agreed that if he planned on doing anything other than snorkeling on the surface, he was going to need some added poundage. He set off to pass the hat for extra weights and, by the time we were ready to splash for dive two, he had everything that wasn't nailed down attached to him. As soon as the pool was open, he was off! I remember thinking, "Dirt dart away!"

About 5 minutes later I entered the water to continue my display of lobstering incompetence. I wasted another dive messing around with the lobster scaring device and headed up the line, a minute or so into deco, empty handed once more. At about 50 feet I saw something rising out of the depths below me passing the other divers on the line. It was Rocket Man! He was just off the line and in an uncontrolled buoyant ascent so fast that he was passing his own bubbles leaving a trail like a Polaris rocket coming out of a sub! He flew past me at about 40 feet making no obvious attempt to vent his obviously overinflated BC. At 20 feet he grabbed one end of the hang line and promptly pulled all of the other divers (who were neutral) up with him. At the very last minute, he tried to flare and contacted the hull of the dive boat face up right on the center line, spread eagled - like a bug hitting a windscreen - before spidering his way to one side, popping to the surface and getting out!

When I finally surfaced almost 10 minutes later, I expected him to be dead.
  • He'd gone in 5 minutes before me.
  • He'd began his ascent at least 5 minutes after me.
  • He was breathing air and I was breathing EAN 30.
  • His ascent was far too fast and there was no attempt at a safety stop.
But, as with my choice of lobster harvesting techniques, I could not have been more wrong. He was fine. Breathing, alert, refusing O2 and bitching mightily about the crappy dive, crappy fishing and crappy ascent. I have no idea why he wasn't comatose or at least blowing pink froth. Lucky doesn't begin to cover it. Maybe he got into trouble later but he was fine when he pulled out of the dive boat parking lot 20 minutes after we docked.

So, that's the story of Rocket Man! I wish I had a picture of him on the bottom of the boat - it was priceless! This will have to suffice ....


Next Time: Unconscious and Lost - A Very Bad Combination.

Dive Safely,

Phil
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Out of Gas Too!

In my last post, I told the story of Steve; a tremendously likable fellow who ran out of air at 100' and then got into all kinds of trouble related to his poor fitness level. Sadly, Steve died of a heart attack while diving just over a year later. This posting is about an incident that occurred just two days after Steve's initial incident. Same boat. Same ocean. Different guy - let's call him "Brian".

Brian joined our boat after Steve bailed after his fright that Monday. They were friends and, like Steve, Brian was a local diver with lots of experience on and under (?) those waters. As heavy and vivacious as Steve was, Brian was the opposite. Quiet and thin, he showed up on Wednesday morning and quietly got to work putting his gear together properly and efficiently. After the problem with newbie Steve, a couple of divers took a moment to check in with Brian and one checked his computer on the sly to confirm the number of logged dives therein - 40. The only weird thing about Brian's set up w
Trevor Jackson returning from a dive on SS KyogleImage via Wikipediaas that he would be diving in a shorty wetsuit. Kind of tropical but the water was warm and we were further offshore in warm gulf stream waters so it wasn't ridiculous.

One of the many instructors on the boat, who was diving a rebreather, took Brian under his wing for the first dive. They splashed a little after 8:30. I was right behind them.

The dive was to the wreck of the Schurz - WWI German battle ship with a great history. It's always an incredibly beautiful dive and I highly recommend it. We were tied into the bow and most of the divers set off down the wreck, dodging the plague of lion fish that have taken up residency there (and almost everywhere else in the area). I turned around at the beginning of the afterdeck and headed back to the anchor. About two thirds of the way back, I saw a flash of movement up and to my left. Brian was making a run for the anchor line at 45 degrees - very fast, no bubbles! I took off after him.

One of things that's incredible about diving with military, rescue and law enforcement folks is their situational awareness. When we get back on board after a dive, discussions cover not only what each diver experienced but a pantheon of observations about what else was happening on the wreck, reef or whatever. This day Dave Gulley, an EMT from St. Louis and incredible diver, spotted Brian about the same time I did. Closer to the anchor line, Dave reached him at 80 feet and immediately put him on a regulator. I joined them as they reached the line and shadowed them through the ascent. His rebreathing dive buddy, joined us at the same time - Brian had all the help he could hope for and then some.

Back on board, Brian joined us by the coolers on the sun deck. What we heard, blew our minds. Brian, it turned out, was Steve's dive buddy. They had both just started diving and, like Steve, Brian had 6 dives. The 40 dives on his computer were from another diver. Although Brian competently set up his equipment, he forgot his weight belt when he jumped overboard. But he was so skinny, he sank like a stone until his aluminum tank started to empty at which point he had to work to stay down. This meant that he used air much more quickly on the way back than he had on the way out, though, in fairness, he had probably turned around too late as he followed the dive profile of a diver with hours and hours of available gas. But the thing that really amazed us was that Steve hadn't told Brian, his buddy, about Monday's near-death experience or the reason for his passing on that day's diving.

As with Steve, we talked him through the errors and helped restore his confidence by shepherding him through an easy, better managed dive on dive two just before lunch. It was a good end to what could have been a terrible day but that night the more experienced divers had a long talk about our role in both incidents. With respect to Brian the conclusions I came to were:

  1. Our examination of Brian's experience was insufficient.
  2. Pairing a new open-circuit diver with a rebreather diver (even of great experience) is a real challenge and probably not advisable.
  3. Failing to share your incidents denies your diving buddies of the opportunity to avoid your mistakes. It's more than a little negligent.
  4. If you are going to take responsibility for another diver, of any experience level, take the time to check their equipment (like we were all taught to do in open water class) to make sure it's in place and secure.
  5. Always discuss your gas management plan with your buddy; if only to make sure he or she has one. Whether it's a third in , a third out and a third for reserve, or head back at 1k and on board with 500 psi, or whatever, it is arguably THE most important plan.
Ok, so what about fitness?

Mentally, none of us were fit because we didn't have the right info - garbage in = garbage out. Cave and technical divers use rigorous checklists because they ensure that the garbage in problem is solved which allows other aspects of mental fitness to take shape. As for Brian, his inexperience greatly impinged on his physical performance because he overlooked a key piece of equipment and made the wrong move when out of air. He was surrounded by divers with plenty of gas but he ran for the surface. That's panic and decidedly unfit. On the positive side, the rescuers didn't panic and several folks were aware enough to spot the problem and react appropriately and very quickly.

Physically, we looked a lot better. In spite of Brian's buoyancy, Dave's fitness ensured that he had no problem managing the dive through the safety stop. The more experienced divers had lots of air because they were skilled and therefore efficient in the water. Finally, Brian's own fitness level assisted in his rescue.

Two divers, two days, two similar incidents, two primary rescuers, two good outcomes, several important lessons learned.

Dive Safely,

Phil

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Big Guy - Out of Gas

A pony bottle (left) attached to a larger cylinderImage via WikipediaWhen I get on a dive boat, I invariably do 3 things that end up getting me in trouble (actually, its just the third thing that leads to trouble):

  1. Pick out a spot where I'm not in anyone's way.
  2. Put my gear together quickly and stow whatever I don't need.
  3. Find a good perch from which to check out the other divers.


And so it was on the Monday of a 2009 trip. Nearly every diver on board was an old friend or, at least, well known to me. However there was one guy, let's call him "Steve" (I'm going to use pseudonyms for other divers unless I have permission to discuss them directly), who looked out of place and more than a little uncomfortable. This big, happy, boisterous fellow was putting his regulator together with the tank backwards (think back, we've all done it or something like it). Fumbling with the screw on the yoke of his first stage, he spun it right off and dropped it overboard triggering a scramble for a new one before we headed out. Lots of folks helpfully dug around for a replacement. I ended up lending him the one from my DIN-to-yoke adapter. I decided to keep an eye on him when we splashed. What I should have done was pulled him aside and checked on his background. It's the first of two major regrets I have from that day.

A couple of hours and one fantastic below deck snooze (for me) later, Steve entered the water. I followed immediately, caught up to him on the hang line below the boat and followed him down. Reaching the wreck 100' below, I found that the current was flowing from the anchor at the stern toward the bow. The return trip was going to be up-current but the current was light so it was no big deal. To my right, Steve floated with the current down the hull. He was clearly having some buoyancy issues and was blowing a lot of bubbles. As we reached the far end, I asked how much air he had. After a couple of false starts, Steve understood and showed me his gauge. It read 300 psi! He'd used over 90% of his air in 8 minutes. And he didn't seem to see this as a problem.

Deciding that I needed to get him to the anchor line before putting him on my air, I grabbed his wrist and hauled him the length of the wreck. When we got to the line, he was nearly out of gas so I switched him to my 40 cubic foot pony bottle which also had the EAN30 mix we were diving. We quickly ascended to 50' so we could cut down on his air volume per breath. At 50', I showed him his gauge , made it clear that he was going to be ok and tried to convey that I was running the dive now. We ascended slowly, Steve calming as we rose.

As we approached the boat, Steve started looking up with concern at the "headbanger" mushroom anchor weighing the hang line down. The surface chop was ramming it up an down as is typical for an offshore dive. To protect his head, I rotated him away from the line so that I was under the weight and prepared to transfer us to our safety stop. At 20', Steve suddenly spun away from me to grab the hang line. As he did so, he moved past the limit of my pony's reg hose, the mouthpiece clamped fiercely between his teeth. Before I could pull him back, he ripped the mouthpiece from the reg and took a huge 'breath' of water. His eyes rolled with panic as he tried to sort out what had happened. I took my reg out and purged it as I popped it into his mouth. With my other hand I moved to my Air 2 (by the way, I now have an 8' octopus reg on my main first stage and on my pony - just in case). He shook with spasms of coughing and retching; and started a run for the surface which I aborted with a clamp on his shoulder.

After a couple of minutes calming him down, we were getting really low on air. I guided us to the surface and inflated his BC as he grabbed hold of the ladder. Unfortunately, after 15 minutes of panic, he was exhausted and could not climb out under his own power. The guys on the swim step were pulling but he was at least 400 lbs fully geared up. I settled in on the bottom ladder rung with my shoulders under him and, in a moment worthy of Borat, helped heave him out of the water.

When I arrived on deck, he was out of his gear and lying prone; eyes shut. "Shit!" I thought. "He's dead." But Steve opened his eyes and smiled, "Did you just save my life?" "Three times." I answered. "Let's get out of this gear and talk about it up top."

Out in the warming sun, we rehydrated, grabbed a sandwich and talked through the incident. Steve was visibly shaken and both of us were wiped. It turned out that Steve had just 6 dives - his certification dives. This was way beyond his experience set. Watching him getting ready, it had been obvious. We figured out that he was over weighted, which led in part to his buoyancy problems; and we talked about air management. I offered to guide him through his second dive and to get him properly weighted. On that dive, when he reached 1000 psi, I sent him up the line with some other divers - he had a great time.

Which leads me to my second major regret. What we didn't talk about was his general lack of fitness and how that had endangered both of us. Steve had no business being out their because he was too inexperienced, yes. But he also was grossly overweight and completely unaware of how his lack of fitness drove the causal chain that could have ended his life.

Just over a year later, Steve died of a heart attack while diving in the Virgin Islands. When I heard he was gone, I felt more than a twinge of guilt. His hometown paper ran stories about all of the wonderful things he had done and was doing with his life. What stuck with me was how popular he was for officiating at weddings. With his cherubic grin and easy charm, he was kind of unforgettable. He may have been a terrible diver but he was one heck of a guy.

I should have laid it out for him when we first talked after the rescue. I should have said:

  1. Look, you're lucky to be alive.
  2. You are too inexperienced to be diving out here without expressly seeking guidance from an experienced buddy.
  3. You ran out of air because your lack of fitness compounded a slight buoyancy problem into a major air supply issue.
  4. You could have killed both of us trying to get you out of the water.
  5. You have to think about this like hiking underwater. If you couldn't comfortably go on a six mile mountain hike, you shouldn't be out here.
  6. You are too nice a guy to lose ... please drop 100 lbs or quit diving.
  7. Please, take the second dive off and think about it.


I wonder if that conversation would not have served him better?

A couple of weeks later I shared this story with our dive club. That experience led to this blog's first entry.

Dive safe,

Phil

Next time - Out Of Gas, Too!
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