Wednesday, August 02, 2006
Aftermath of a Dive Fatality
I was reading a news account online this week about the aftermath of a diving fatality on board the Canadian Forces destroyer HMCS Yukon, which now sits on the bottom just outside Mission Bay in San Diego. The diver lost his life penetrating a portion of the ship that had been cordoned off. Someone, quite possibly the diver himself, had removed the barrier in order to gain entry into a section of the wreck that had been made inaccessible for a reason. Another barrier has replaced the one that someone removed. Some were questioning whether or not the barrier would be sufficient to prevent a future occurrence. For the time being, all parties believe that the new barrier will be sufficient. Concerns have also been aired as to whether the accident would result in the City of San Diego would place the wreck off limits to divers. Luckily it has not.
As I read the account, it reminded me of a very penetrating novel I read more than 20 years ago, about a year or so after I started diving, and have reread a few times since. Jacob’s Well by Stephen Harrigan opens as the protagonist Rick Trammel leading a team to recover the bodies of two divers who drown deep inside a cave system in Texas. Eventually, the decision is made to seal as cave system. As Steve Harrigan writes,
“It took four divers, working in relays, the greater part of a day to install the barricade. Rick had designed it, a simple steel grid that divers brought down in two sections and welded in place. When the job was finished, Rick swam down to inspect it one last time. It was a good barricade. He shone his light through it and saw the beam disappear in the darkness on the other side. He took hold of the bars and shook the grid-hard, but it was firmly in place. The barricade would do what it was meant to do. For someone to get through, he would have to want it bad.” Needless to say, the barricade and what it represents will figure into the climax of the story, just as the barrier on the HCMS Yukon yet may figure prominently in the future of the Yukon.
Scuba publications are replete with stories of wreck and cave penetration dives gone wrong. Mike Ange in his recent book on scuba accidents, Diver Down, has chapters on dives gone wrong in both environments. A number of titles on my bookshelf address similar situations. Four of these books were published in the last few years: Deep Descent, Fatal Depth, Dark Descent, and the book that seems to have started it all, The Last Dive. Collectively, they offer several case studies on wreck diving, albeit in the most extreme conditions which will be encountered only by the handful of divers that seek them out. Still, the lessons from these books are applicable for those of us who dive in less extreme situations than those presented by the Andrea Doria or the Empress of Ireland.
In his recently published memoir “Underwater to Get Out of the Rain” naturalist Trevor Norton observes that diving on shipwrecks sometimes creates an uneasy feeling for the diver. “The unease" he writes, "is stoked by the knowledge that wrecks are dangerous places to be. It is easy to become disoriented in a confusion of corridors and decks even when a ship is well lit and afloat, but down here in the darkness amid clouds of silt, it is possible to get lost in the labyrinth where there is no easy escape to the surface. The tenuous artificiality of your existence is emphasized by the precious air expelled with every breath to accumulate as quicksilver pools on the ceiling. The trapped diver is unique among the condemned in that he can see his last breath.” Well put, indeed.
As I read the account, it reminded me of a very penetrating novel I read more than 20 years ago, about a year or so after I started diving, and have reread a few times since. Jacob’s Well by Stephen Harrigan opens as the protagonist Rick Trammel leading a team to recover the bodies of two divers who drown deep inside a cave system in Texas. Eventually, the decision is made to seal as cave system. As Steve Harrigan writes,
“It took four divers, working in relays, the greater part of a day to install the barricade. Rick had designed it, a simple steel grid that divers brought down in two sections and welded in place. When the job was finished, Rick swam down to inspect it one last time. It was a good barricade. He shone his light through it and saw the beam disappear in the darkness on the other side. He took hold of the bars and shook the grid-hard, but it was firmly in place. The barricade would do what it was meant to do. For someone to get through, he would have to want it bad.” Needless to say, the barricade and what it represents will figure into the climax of the story, just as the barrier on the HCMS Yukon yet may figure prominently in the future of the Yukon.
Scuba publications are replete with stories of wreck and cave penetration dives gone wrong. Mike Ange in his recent book on scuba accidents, Diver Down, has chapters on dives gone wrong in both environments. A number of titles on my bookshelf address similar situations. Four of these books were published in the last few years: Deep Descent, Fatal Depth, Dark Descent, and the book that seems to have started it all, The Last Dive. Collectively, they offer several case studies on wreck diving, albeit in the most extreme conditions which will be encountered only by the handful of divers that seek them out. Still, the lessons from these books are applicable for those of us who dive in less extreme situations than those presented by the Andrea Doria or the Empress of Ireland.
In his recently published memoir “Underwater to Get Out of the Rain” naturalist Trevor Norton observes that diving on shipwrecks sometimes creates an uneasy feeling for the diver. “The unease" he writes, "is stoked by the knowledge that wrecks are dangerous places to be. It is easy to become disoriented in a confusion of corridors and decks even when a ship is well lit and afloat, but down here in the darkness amid clouds of silt, it is possible to get lost in the labyrinth where there is no easy escape to the surface. The tenuous artificiality of your existence is emphasized by the precious air expelled with every breath to accumulate as quicksilver pools on the ceiling. The trapped diver is unique among the condemned in that he can see his last breath.” Well put, indeed.
# posted by covediver @ 12:16 AM 
