No-one predicted the frightening chain of events that would evolve during what most expected to be a routine scuba diving trip. Although the incidents which took place this past weekend are over, I continue to thank God that I am still alive. My name is Chuck Richter, and I'm just an ordinary hard-working American who doesn't like to tempt fate. I lead quite a dull and boring life. I get up in the morning, work, come home and go to sleep. Throw in a few meals and a television, and that's pretty much my life. Normally the most excitement that I encounter during my life is getting a phone call from an old classmate or one of my siblings. Lately, even these seem quite rare!
Some of my friends may remember that when I was working in Portland seven (count them 7) years ago, two of my friends (Lew and Deb Sweeney) attempted to convince me that I should learn how to scuba-dive. With the union of concerned scientists harping about the possibility of global warming and the inevitable melting of the polar ice-caps, it wouldn't be too long before the earth's major population centers would disapear under hundreds of feet (meters if you live in Europe) of water (beer if you live in Germany) and to survive, we would all have to evolve gills (or really long legs). Evolution typically takes a couple of generations. So to survive in the short-term, I figured that learning how to scuba-dive would be a good idea. So, I let them convince me and took the classes. I listened to diving instructor Louis Mathews lecture, read a book or two, did some diving in a swimming pool for practice, and then jumped in Puget Sound to do the 5 dives needed to complete my certification as Open Water Diver--I was an entry-level diver. Although my life flashed before my eyes a few times during the practice sessions, especially when I couldn't find nor reach my regulator (the device that regulates the air pressure delivered from the tank to the device from which one breathes) after being ordered to take it out of my mouth and throw it behind me... it was a interesting experience.
I learned about how the lungs can actually explode if one holds their breath as they rise from the bottom of the dive. (The water at depth can push on the air so much that it takes less space-- but during ascent, the air once again expands.) The air in the tank will last for different lengths of time, depending on how deep one dives. For my certification category, my diving limit is supposedly 60 feet. Below that, air is used up fast. When one ends a dive, they ideally will still have at least 500 PSI of air in their tank (the tanks hold about 3000PSI).
Another reason to limit the diving depths of inexperienced divers is that the increased pressures can make the body absorb more nitrogen than it does on the surface. If one comes out of the water too fast, the nitrogen may coallesce into bubbles in various parts of the body where they can cause a painful condition known as "The Bends". Therefore, when one is diving below 60 feet deep, it is often recommended, and sometimes required, to do a safety stop at 15 feet below the surface. Waiting there 15 feet below the surface for 5 minutes allows the nitrogen find its way out of the body safely. So while on the bottom in a deep location, the diver needs to take into account that it will take a few minutes to ascend to the surface and an additional five minutes at 15', before the dive is over.
Other things that may cause the novice diver to become panicked or distracted are diving in limited visiblity-- when the diver can see perhaps only a few feet or yards away, very cold water conditions, or diving on or near a ship-wreck. PADI, one of the international diving certification agencies, recommends the novice diver avoid all of these conditions. They recommend diving frequently to keep skills sharp.
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On Friday morning after meeting with some people at Iowa State University where I work, I loaded up the 1999 Jeep Grand Cherokee Laredo and drove to Cedar Rapids. At Cedar Rapids, I was to meet a friend of mine, Mike Hageman, at his home--the same home where he kissed his wife, Alesia, good-bye, not knowing for sure when he'd return. Mike and I would pick up a third person who was to accompany us to Wisconsin. Clint, as his name turned out to be, wanted to drive himself. Since we were a little late in departing, we decided to stop and get some food on the way. Clint followed in his 1990 Ford Mustang as we drove south toward Iowa City to catch interstate 80. The drive east was fairly uneventful, and Mike and I listened to "Heart of a Tiger" by Tom Clancey on the tape player. We made good time, and were at the dive shop in Racine, WI by 5:45pm. Don Perella, or "the fish" as he is known by certain authorities, met us at the dive shop. |
Don and Mike had first mentioned going on a dive in Cozumel on July 4th at a party. I had asked about it, and they had invited me along. I had said that I wouldn't be comfortable diving without doing some practice dives. That is when they mentioned the Racine trip. I had eagerly said, "Sure, put me down!". For me to go on the dives that the two of them had planned this weekend, would mean that I would be breaking many of the PADI rules. I had not been diving frequently and was rusty. I was way rusty, since I hadn't been scuba-diving since being certified in 1992.
Don knew that I was a newbie and took me, and Clint who had recently gotten his open water diver certification, on a short dive in a small murky quarry in Racine, WI on Friday night. We dove to about 25 feet of water to reintroduce us to the diving sport. I was still a little nervous after that, and mentioned as much to my friends while we ate pizza and drank beer at a place called Infusinos. It wasn't until much later that I found out that they had started to wager on how many dives it would be before I was a goner. The most dives that anyone predicted I would survive was 3.
| Saturday morning at 7:00am, five divers (Clint had decided to forego the deep dive to visit friends in Chicago) brought their equipment to the dock where the boat was already tied. Don Perella, a six-foot midwestern swimmer/mechanical engineer from Detroit who enjoys telling stories at his own pace, was to serve as our dive master. Mike Hageman, a easy-going engineer from Cedar Rapids with nearly 100 dives listed in his log-book quickly put his gear on the boat. Mike Barry, a federal police officer from Cedar Rapids who works at VA hospitals in Iowa City and Des Moines joined us there at the site. Blaine, a 55 year-old man sporting a mustache who mentioned that he had a dive master certification also joined us there. It didn't take long to load the boat. Captained by a 50 year-old guy named Richard, the boat was piloted 2 hours south-east of Racine to where the wreck of "The Wisconsin" was located. The Wisconsin was about 200 feet long ship that sunk in October 29, 1929 and is now lying in Lake Michigan where the bottom is 125 feet deep. The last I checked, 125 feet is much deeper than 60 feet, so if I were to dive to see this wreckage, I would be breaking the PADI depth limit for recreational diving. |
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Probably because they wanted to ensure I didn't wimp out (meaning they could win the pool/wager), dive-master Don, and experienced diver Mike Hageman, with whom I was to dive, attempted to belay my fears by saying, "Chuck don't worry! We'll go with you and make sure that your last few moments are comfortable." (It was at that point that they mentioned that it was rather unfortunate that I had rented my gear, because it meant that if I died, they would have to return it to the dive-shop, rather than keep it for themselves. It was a bit disconcerting to think that if I got down to the bottom, and then ran out of air, or goofed up in some other way, that my lifeless body might rise to the surface with exploded lungs (assuming that I could ditch my weight belt), or it might become a permanent part of the wreck.
Other divers who had gone down that day reported on the bottom conditions. At 15 feet, they called the visibility excellent. I had purchased an underwater flashlight knowing that limited visibility and being that deep might make it pretty dark down there. I had never used it before. In addition to the flashlight the dives would require me to make use of other gear which included a BC (bouancy compensator (A vest that has inflatible bladders which fill with air to allow the diver to control the depth at which he floats)); a air-tank filled to 3000 PSI; a gauge to tell how full the tank is; a dive computer that calculates the level of nitrogen in the blood based on time and depth; a belt with 24 lbs of lead weight to help me sink to the bottom; a 6 millimeter thick wet-suit made of neoprene rubber ("I'm Batman!") to prevent me from "freezing" to death in the 49 degree water; a regulator that makes sure the air is at the right pressure; a compass; neoprene hood, gloves and boots; and mask and fins.
I donned my gear and prepared the equipment for the dive. I tasted the air. Checked my backup mouthpiece/regulator. I spit on my goggles to prevent them from fogging up. I stood up at the back of the boat, and with a tenative but giant stride, I plunged into the water.
"Swim around to the front of the boat where the line down to the wreck is tied and wait for the rest of us," said dive master Don. So I did. I waited until Don and Mike got there. The plan was for the three of us to go down the line to the wreck below, swim along the railing of the downed ship until the air got down to 2000 PSI, and then return to the ascent line. The two other divers--Blaine and Mike Barry--on the boat paired off and were going to follow us down.
| We descended as planned. As I descended, my ears became blocked, so I plugged my nose through the mask and popped them. I cleared some water out of the mask. I watched Don below me and his spent air bubbling upwards. Mike was above me making sure that I was not getting into trouble. Soon we were at the deck level around 100 feet below the surface. I looked up, but the boat was no longer in sight. I put some air in the BC to stop the descent. While Mike and Don were pretty good at bouancy control, it took me a little bit of effort. I wanted to stay close to the other guys because if anything were to happen with my air or otherwise, they might be able to help me. So I swam along beside them looking at the gaping holes in the ship and the boards strewn along the deck. The iron/steel parts of the ship were in much better condition than were the wooden parts. I glanced at my air gauges. The dive computer said that max depth of the dive was 115 feet. The air was going fast. The combination of me being nervous and inexperienced meant that I was using about twice as much oxygen as Don and Mike. We were down there only about 12 minutes when we had to begin the ascent. We went up to the 15' below surface level and waited for five minutes before surfacing and reboarding the boat. My dive had gone well... but I was glad to be aboard the boat alive. |
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On board, the other two guys were already removing their equipment. They had left after us, so I asked what happened... why were they up at the surface before we were??? Blaine answered, "I had a free-flow. As soon as we got to the level of the wreck, my regulator began to free-flow. I had to shoot up to the top with no safety stop!" Regulators can actually stick open in the cold temperatures. If that happens, the air just flows out. You can still breath, but because the air continually streams out, it doesn't last long at all. They came up in a hurry, and didn't get to see much that dive. These guys were pretty experienced, and it didn't phase them. If that had happened to me on my first dive, I would not have been complaining about what I didn't see, I would be asking myself if I would ever go diving again! And providing the answer as well: No way!
The plan had been for me to dive with Blaine and the other Mike --Mike Barry--the next time, so that Mike and Don could actually go looking in other more distant parts of the wreck for some old cars that had been aboard when the ship went down. But Blaine was hesitant to use the same regulator again. Mike had brought an extra, but he said that it had free-flowed in the past too. So they didn't know what to do. "Well... if you want, you can use mine, and I'll stay on board the ship," I said, and to make it look like I wasn't scared, I added, "selfless guy that I am." Well, kind-hearted boat captain Richard came to the rescue and said that he had an extra regulator on board, and that there was no reason to cut short my diving experience on such a beautiful day. So I never got to be selfless enough to stay on the surface. After an hour and a half of surface time (needed to allow more of the residual nitrogen trapped in the body to escape), we readied ourselves for the second dive of the day.
| Mike Barry was taking along a video camera, and would be filming the wreck. I was thinking about my odds of survival, and thinking that if he was busy filming, he wouldn't be watching me enough to jump to my rescue with his extra air source if needed. However, Blaine would be there though. I would have to just rely mostly on myself. We descended in a manner quite similar to the first dive. We followed the same rail, and things were very familiar. I wasn't thinking quite as much about my lifeless body floating to the top as I did on the first dive. But a couple of times, my thoughts turned to how Blaine's regulator had free-flowed on the last dive... what if that happens to me?! I tried to relax as much as I could so that I would use less oxygen and give the other divers a little bit more bottom time. Although the dive actually lasted longer than the first one, it went quickly. I was actually having some fun. Albeit fun that was mixed with a healthy dose of nervousness. The ascent to the surface went easily and soonafter, we boarded the boat. Don and Mike returned to the boat shortly after we did (Mike had requested that I take a picture of him surfacing, which I did). They had gone down before us, and come up after since they were able to use much less air. As soon as they were on the surface, we disconnected the boat from the dive line and we were headed back to historic Racine. |
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The plan was to dive two different wrecks on Sunday. The first would be The Milwaukee. The Milwaukee had gone down during the same storm as had The Wisconsin back in October, and had taken 60 of its crewmembers with it. At 333 feet, it was a big ferry that was used to transport railroad cars and cargo across Lake Michigan. The second dive was to be at the Prince Wilhelm (a.k.a. The Willy).
At 6:46am, we checked out of the hotel. We got coffee and doughnuts, fueled the vehicles and drove in a three-vehicle caravan for 40 minutes to downtown Milwaukee. We were suppose to be boarded and heading out to the dive sites by 8:00am, but the boat was late arriving to the dock. When the boat arrived 20 minutes late, we found that it had engine problems. Richard spent an hour working on the second of two engines. Finally it was fixed and we were ready to begin loading the equipment on the boat.
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Blaine didn't come this time. However, Clint was with us, and while
he was putting some of his gear on the boat, a dive computer slipped
into the slimy, dirty, stinky, murky, zero-visibility waters of the harbor.
Little Brad to the rescue... after some negotiating, Clint (and Mike)
agreed to pay Brad $40 to go into waters that were dirtier than most
toilets. After five minutes, he found the computer and we were ready to
head out to the Lake. But after all the morning's goings on, we were
quite late.
On the way out to the Milwaukee, we looked at pictures of the ship as it had looked before it had gone down. Radio communications with other divers confirmed that the visibility at The Milwaukee would be pretty good. Bradley W. Friend was a very experienced diver with over 600 dives logged. He had specialized training, and Mike and he talked over the benefits of taking specialized courses on topics ranging from breathing Nitrox to cave diving. Don busied himself by helping Richard navigate using the LORAN and GPS systems. For my contribution to the success of the dive-trip, I ate a bag of chips. Mmmm... Corn chips.
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| Each of us suited up. Clint and I were to be diving buddies. We would dive with dive master Brad, and Mike Barry who would once again be filming the wreck. At the descent line, we signalled to each other that we were ready. We started down. I went down first, followed by Brad who quickly passed me up. By the time we were 20 feet below the surface, I turned to look up, and saw no-one else. Mike Barry and Clint had stayed on the surface... what had happened? I looked to Brad who was unconcerned, so I continued to follow him. We got to the level of the wreck (about 95-100 feet), and did some exploration. The visibility was great. It was easy to see about 30 feet. I had my flashlight and used it to light areas that were clouded in shadows. |
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On Saturday, Don had suggested that as a rule of thumb, when 1/3 of my air was gone, that I get ready to head back to the ascent line... since by the time I'd be back to the line, the air would be 2/3 gone, and I needed some to ascend and do a safety stop. So, at 1800 PSI, I let Brad know what my reading was. He motioned that I should let him know when I was at 1300 PSI, and then we would head back. The wreckage was pretty impressive. There was much more hull damage on the Milwaukee than there had been on the Wisconsin. Large and sharp projections of metal would appear seemingly out of nowhere. It wasn't too long and my air was down to 1300 PSI. I motioned to Brad. We headed back to the ascent line, and started up. Prior to ascending I had seen some divers. It turned out to be Don and Mike. Clint and Mike Barry were no-where to be seen. During the safety stop, my tank pressure dropped to 500 PSI, about the minimum that I would want to have. I wasn't too worried as air lasts much longer at the 15' depth than it does at the bottom.
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Brad watched me ascend to the surface, and then returned to the wreck below. The rumor was that he could probably breathe off the same tank for over an hour at the bottom, and he had two tanks. When I climbed aboard the boat, Clint and Mike Barry were already removing their gear. "What happened to you two?" I asked. Clint told me how he had had difficulties equalizing the pressure in his ears on descent, and had gone back to the surface after it got painful. After he had the problem worked out, he went down to the bottom, but by then, Brad and I were no longer within view. Therefore, with no buddy, he did the wise thing and headed back to the surface, making sure to do a safety stop. Mike Barry, had had some difficulties with his equipment, but had fixed it early and had gone down to the bottom on his own. He looked around and had resurfaced shortly before I did. |
By this time, I was really starting to like this diving thing. I was glad that I had gone down on two dives the day before. Of course, I had good people supporting me, and the conditions were about perfect. Both Don and Brad who had previously dived the Milwaukee said the 30' visibility we had was unprecedented. It so happened that the news radioed over from divers at the Willy said that the visibility on that wreck (situated only 45 feet below the surface) was almost zero. It was then that the decision to stay at the Milwaukee was made. We had about an hour and a half before we could return the bottom. We had some food and drank some soda while passing the time.
| The boat was repositioned. We would dive from the bow, whereas on the first dive, we dove down to the stern and looked around. It was decided that I would dive with Mike Barry, and that Brad would closely look after Clint, since he had had difficulty on the previous dive. That seemed okay for me, but Mike Barry was going to be filming the wreck, which meant that he might not be much for watching after me. We desended together with me following him by a couple of feet. He slowly bounced off of the bow of the Milwaukee as he came down--which Mike and Don had observed and later laughed about. I hit the "fill air" button on my BC in an attempt to avoid doing the same... too late, the guys laughed at me later too. Mike Barry was filming, and he was also kicking pretty good. I couldn't keep up with the guy as he moved along the wreck. In fact, as I kept a watch on my air, Mike would often shoot off ahead sometimes nearly to the limit of visibility. We made it all the way down to the stern where we had entered the wreck on the previous dive. 333 feet. At that point, I motioned that my air was getting low and that we needed to haul it back to the other end ASAP. I watched my air and figured that if it got to be really crucial, I was going to screw finding the ascent line and head straight up. When I caught up with Mike Barry again, he was filming by the ascent line. I motioned that I was heading up. He looked at his air which was almost as low as the 500 PSI registering on my tank. |
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500 PSI is the lower limit that one should see. Below that, the gauge is colored in red. Blood red. I started moving up, as did he. I wanted him near me in case we needed to buddy breathe. As we got up to the 15' depth, the rate at which the pressure in the tank was dropping slowed. But it continued to get lower. At 300, I glanced over toward the line that slung a 3000 PSI tank filled with Nitrox from the boat. If worst came to worst, I could make it to that tank. I watched the pressure go down to 200 PSI as the clock told me that I had been stopped at 15' for four minutes. Okay!, good enough, I'm heading up, I motioned. Barry and I surfaced, and by the time I reached the boat, I had only 100 PSI in the tank. Breathing was getting difficult, and I was thinking how foolish it had been to go the whole length of the boat. My thought at that point was that dive buddies should not take off at warp speed leaving the other one so far behind that it would be impossible to help him in case of danger. Outside of that near out-of-air situation, Sunday's dives were really enjoyable.
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Mike Barry played the film back when we were on the boat. It was pretty neat. I'm hoping to get a copy soon, so if you stop by, I may bore you with the video (upon request). We headed back into Milwaukee, and unloaded the gear, taking care not to dump anything into the murky water of the river. After a quick group photo, and lunch at McDonald's, we were off to our respective corners of the globe. The drive back to Iowa was dreary since most of the way it was raining. We finished the audio book, and listened to some Shania Twain. She's one good looking country singer. |
So, it turns out that 20 Leagues under the Lake wasn't the harrowing epic that I might have suggested above. But it could have been. It may not seem scary to you, but at times, I was wondering if I'd ever walk on the surface of the earth again. If you're planning to do some dives, don't take chances. In the words of President Ronald Reagan, "Good night and God Bless." and also, "There you go again, Mr. Gorbechev."
