Technical Ventures – The Return
By Mark Davies on 2 September 2008
Okay, the weather had improved – but only a little
On our second visit to Capernwray we at least didn’t have to contend with snow on the ground, but it was still mighty cold! There wasn’t the same thin film of ice over the water but it hadn’t warmed up any at all in the intervening week – still a very chilly 5c!
Andy and I met up as the centre opened and we were joined once more by Andy’s rebreather student, still looking to get some time in on his box. There seemed to be a PADI IDC course going on, which would prove to be a distraction for the staff at the centre, and some ROV training as well. Otherwise it was as quiet as you could hope for a mid-week visit. We could at least expect some good viz for this, my second skills session on my Advanced Nitrox and Deco Procedures course.
Service!
That distraction of the staff manifested in the café not being open when we arrived and we had to pass on a warming cup of coffee before our dive. A bit of a disappointment, that. We were after all paying customers too.
So, without our coffee, Andy explained what we’d be doing. First we’d do a gentle ten minute swim to calculate my SAC. We’d descend to 10m, I’d note my tank contents, we’d swim a circuit around the quarry for the allotted time and I’d note my contents again. After that we’d do more shut-downs and a rescue lift. But the main element of this dive was that I would be introduced to carrying a stage bottle. We’d practice removal and attachment in the water and I’d simulate some decompression stops.
It didn’t seem like too much, so I was hoping I wouldn’t find the dive quite as action packed as the previous one!
Off we went to get kitted up. Following Andy’s advice after the first dives I’d bought myself a back-up timer – just a basic Uwatec bottom timer. Andy had checked my kit out after the previous dive and the only real criticism he’d had was about my wrist slate. This wasn’t attached at the back edge and Andy felt it was an entanglement hazard. He’d suggested I fasten it down with a length of bungee. I’d decided to kill two birds and had fastened the timer to the slate with some bungee so that it would sit on the inside of my left wrist – where I could see it easily when winding an SMB reel.
It’s odd how such tiny changes can really mess you up!
If I’m diving with someone new I tend to assess them by how well they get themselves ready. Good divers have an established, methodical kitting up routine. There is no fuss and even though they are the last on the boat to get started they are often the first to finish getting ready. My routine was long established, but it went all awry just because of that small change – getting my wrist slate on with the timer bungeed to it. It didn’t help that I’d cut the bungees too short, so it was too tight a fit.
Part of my discipline is that my gloves are one of the first things to go on – while less experienced divers tend to put them on last. There is some logic to this. I’m going to be wearing my gloves under water, so by doing all my kitting up wearing them I ensure I am able to manage everything gloved-up. It follows that I then shouldn’t be fumbling in the water.
With my slate too tight I found I had to get my glove off to sort it and that just threw my rhythm out entirely!
However, I made a recovery and we were soon ready. Getting the stage on was awkward but Andy assured me it would be easier in the water than on land. Off we went for the trudge to the lake. I’d never carried so much dive kit in my life! Wistfully I daydreamed of my days on a Red Sea liveaboard, wetsuit diving in comparative freedom!
The Next Stage
We entered near the jetty and the guys doing their ROV course were there, the yellow umbilical of their underwater robot stretching out of sight under the surface of the lake.
Descending into the water the encumbrance of that extra bottle hanging at my side just disappeared. I hardly noticed it was there at all. After the customary bubble check we headed down, carefully passing over the ROV lifeline as we went. At 10m we levelled off. I scribbled my contents figure on my slate and started heading around the quarry in a clockwise direction.
I don’t know if our friend on the box was having trouble or not, but he dropped down below us and was lagging behind. I needed to keep up a moderate work rate to get a representative SAC figure, but we were going nowhere fast. In the end Andy had to go back and drag our friend along. Watching the clock we came to 10 minutes and another note on the slate.
We dropped down to the bed of the quarry and Andy left me for a moment so he could run through some drills with our companion. Clearly there were issues as in moments he was heading straight for the surface! I waited patiently while Andy went to check on him and retrieve him.
Boris the Box
We were not too far away from the container and oil rig. This was where they were practicing with the ROV.
I’d never seen one of these in operation before but had seen footage of them on various TV programs and films. It was fascinating to get close to one. We halted our dive briefly so I could get photos of it – it looked like its name ought to be Boris! We had to resist the temptation to sneak up behind it and tie it off to something just to annoy the guys at the surface!
We set off again and my next drill was removing and replacing my stage while on the bottom. Andy had been right – it was far easier to handle the neutrally buoyant tank in the water than it had been on land. We went through the process again mid-water and once more it posed no real problems.
No doubt my air got turned off at some stage in the dive, but by this time I was getting used to it!
Our final drill was to simulate decompression stops and gas changes. Andy had shown me how to properly deploy the stage reg and the correct signal procedures. We ran through that with no real issues except that the hose on the stage was just about exactly the most awkward length it could be! The reg just wouldn’t sit comfortably in my mouth and I ended up with a very wet breathe.
All in all though it had been a far more comfortable dive than the first one of the course.
Service!!!!!!!
We came out of the water and with huge effort I hauled all that kit back to our spot in the car park. Passing a familiar YD face on the way I commented on the sheer madness of our sport – as so often we all do!
After getting rid of my load we headed up to the café for a surface interval de-brief and a spot of lunch. Once more the place was completely devoid of staff and divers were having to resort to getting their own coffee and leaving the money at the till.
We waited half an hour until the IDC candidates had all been fed and then finally someone showed up to take our soup order. At least the stilton and onion soup was absolutely delicious and worth the wait!
Tied in Knots
Our second dive of the day was fairly straightforward. We found our way to the Podsnap – the largest of the boats sunk in the quarry – and practiced a few wreck diving techniques. This included reeling-off through the wreck and picking up stage bottles on the move.
It was an indication of how comfortable the stage was when Andy indicated for me to go through one of the hatches into the wreck. There was no chance I was going to get through with the stage on – it was far too small a hole – but I’d completely forgotten I had it. After spending a few moments looking particularly foolish trying to squeeze myself through I finally worked out why I was going nowhere. So then we had some more practice at stage removal and recovery – which was of course Andy’s intention all along.
Practicing laying a line through the wreck and once more I found my air had got magically turned off. I was well used to it by now and barely broke my fin strokes turning it back on again!
We bagged off – with my mask flooded this time, just for fun! – and ascended doing safety stops and gas changes once more.
So those were my practice dives done. Andy told me he was quite happy with what he had seen and I was ready to move on to the next stage – a genuine decompression dive at depth.
Down Down – Deeper on Down
We had to wait a week or so for the final dive and in the intervening period I had a trip to Mull. Diving just on air I’d done a dive with 30 minutes of deco-stops in very cold water and I was beginning to appreciate what would be the real benefits of the course I was doing!
Our last dive was in Wastwater. This is a beautiful place in good weather if you are hill walking, but I have now twice visited this lake in a diving context and I can’t say I’m in a hurry to get back!
The first time I had been was from an aborted dive weekend in Whitehaven. High winds had prevented us getting out to sea and so we had made the drive to Wastwater to see if we could get in there. We found waves two feet high in the gale blowing down the valley and binned that idea for silly sods!
Returning for the second time after a two and a half hour drive to get there we found the weather was not much better on this visit! The winds were a bit lighter and manageable but there was rain in the air. No doubts, we were going to get wet.
Andy explained how the dive was going to go. A dive plan and contingencies were worked out and I wrote these down on my wrist slate (now with longer bungees and much easier to get on!). We would go to 45 meters – obviously the deepest dive I’d ever done by some margin. My computer couldn’t cope with gas changes nor could it be set to gauge mode. Andy explained that if I set the O2 mix as high as possible it would beep like mad at me but it wouldn’t get bent.
I was then reminded why as a rule I detest shore diving. In the rain, slogging down a muddy, boggy slope to the water’s edge and then gingerly picking my way through the rocks in constant fear of a broken ankle is not my idea of the ideal way to start a dive – especially not one stretching my abilities beyond the usual boundaries. I’d considered attempting getting some photos on the dive but decided to minimise the task loading on this first venture into the narcosis inducing depths. I left my camera behind.
After getting over the rocks we descended into fairly decent visibility. We did a bubble check as ever and then located the rope that would lead us to the drop off. Hauling ourselves along the rope to preserve effort and air, we eventually came to the edge of the underwater cliff – the spot marked with a few judiciously placed road signs. Andy checked all was okay and indicated that I should turn my torch on then we continued our descent into the gloom.
Descending to New Depths
Down we went. At around 30 meters we levelled of and I completed a pre-arranged shut-down drill – the only skill we had scheduled for the dive.
My computer was going nuts as we continued our descent. I was now well below the maximum operating depth of the 50% nitrox I had deceivingly told it I was breathing. The little device on my wrist was far from happy with such reckless and foolhardy behaviour and settled into a persistently nagging series of bleeps.
The gloom deepened as the ambient light faded and I appreciated the need for the torches. As we dropped I waited to feel any narcosis hit coming my way. I knew I must be narced – it would be stupid of me to suggest otherwise – but on none of my deepish dives previously had I felt any significant effect. I was interested to see how I would feel at 45 meters. We levelled off at our target depth and I was slightly disappointed to find that I felt quite normal. But then again – narced or not – of course I would!
Andy signalled asking if I was okay. Later he told me he was quite happy with my responses and clearly I was dealing with the depth just fine.
Well – so this was the famous Wastwater Gnome Garden; the one there had been so much fuss about when the police had threatened to move it. I honestly couldn’t see what the fuss was about. And seeing the memorial plaques (far too many) to the divers who had died there I could only think it had been a ridiculous waste. There was nothing there worth risking your life over and I can’t see myself ever diving there again other than to do another course.
I monitored my air supply frequently. Probably the only effect of the narcosis that I could feel was a slight anxiousness to ensure all was as it should be. No doubt I was checking my gauges far too often.
My normally totally reliable air integrated transmitter dropped out. Perhaps it was because my computer was still having a fit – telling me my CNS oxygen toxicity was up to 125%! I checked my back up contents gauge and saw that I hadn’t quite hit the two thirds mark, but with my computer clearly unhappy with me and not working as normal I felt it would be prudent to call the turn, even if a little bit early. I signalled to Andy and we began to head back, ascending gently as we did so.
But for my computer’s constantly audible nagging I imagine it would have been a very peaceful dive – quite in contrast to the weather that was turning very unpleasant above is.
On our way up I guess my wrist mounted friend was assuming my unconscious body was being recovered. It kept on beeping though, as if to say, “It’s not my fault – I did tell the daft bugger!” We relocated the line and began our series of decompression stops; first at 21m, then 15m and on to 12m. Here I switched to my stage of 70% decogas. There was a nice long hose on this one that I could loop around my head, so it was far more comfortable to use. Detecting no air leaving my back gas the computer finally ceased its ministrations. As far as it knew I was still 12m down and no longer breathing. It had tried its best but I had gone ahead and killed myself all the same.
We continued our ascent in the scheduled stages. Swimming along the line against a wind driven current it had taken us a little longer to get from 12m to 9m than had been planned so for safety’s sake I added in a couple of extra minutes at 6m. Soon we were safely at the surface again (not that the computer was having it!) to find it was teeming with rain. I struggled to get over the rocks and up the boggy bank and then trudged back to the car to offload my heavy burden and de-kit, trying in vain to stay reasonably dry in the process.
An Adventure Concluded
With all kit packed away we reconvened in the cab of Andy’s van. He told me he was perfectly happy with my dive and more so, that he would be quite happy to dive with me at any time; not something he would say to all his students and high praise indeed from that source. In truth that means far more to me than any certification. With a shake of the hand I was welcomed into the world of technical diving.
I had set out on this road with great reluctance and after many years of resisting this advancement in my diving. I had chosen to do it out of simple necessity and not to just achieve some status as a rough and tough techie. I think this had probably put me in just the right state of mind for the course – approaching it with a certain amount of respect for the dangers inherent in the undertaking. Along the way I had learned much, and in that bone chilling half hour hanging on a line in the Sound of Mull I had come to appreciate that there were no doubt benefits that outweighed the new risks.
I had started the course with the expectation that I was rarely likely to make use of the skills that I was about to acquire. Having now completed the training it would be fair to say my stance has shifted – but not seismically. My performance has given me confidence that I can handle the increased risks of a decompression ceiling – to the point that I don’t feel that in doing this kind of diving I would be selfishly risking my life at the expense of my near and dear.
Will I do more technical diving? Yes, probably. At least, more than I had originally intended. But what I know I have got out of it was what I had set out to achieve in the first place. Without doubt I completed this course a better and more capable diver than I was when I started it – and in that respect my diving will probably now be safer than it has ever been.
Contact
Author: Mark Davies
Email: info@travel-dive.com
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