USS S-5 and the RP Resor September 22-23 2007

I've wanted to dive the S-5 ever since I first read its history. Commissioned in 1920, the sub had just completed trials, and was on its first assignment. While performing a test dive the main induction valve was left open, and then when belatedly closed it jammed. The backup was to close the valves to the individual compartments, but the forward torpedo room valve was stuck. The crew scrambled from the bow and sealed it off, while the sub crashed into the sea bed in 180 of water. With all those tons of water, it was impossible to float the sub. An attempt was made to pump out the torpedo room, but the bilge pump failed. The crew were trapped, with limited air, no escape hatch, no escape lungs, and no one looking for them. The only thing at their disposal was their wits. The captain knew the sub was 231' long, and in 180' of water. In theory if they blew the aft ballast tanks and fuel tanks they might be able to lift the stern to the surface enough to get a hatch out of the water. However, in the process water would run over the batteries and cause toxic chlorine gas, so the trick was to do it quickly and then slam the hatch and shut it, keeping the toxic fumes isolated. With their fingers crossed they blew the tanks, and what was horizontal now became vertical, cascading down through the sub. They nearly lost a man in the battery room, but were able to pull him out and slam the hatch. By hammering on the hull they discerned that 17 of the stern was sticking out of the water, not enough to get to the hatch but better than nothing. The next task was to drill air holes, for which they were woefully underequipped. By using a power drill (and semi-electrocuting themselves in the process) they were able, over the course of 36 hours, to make a 3" hole in the 3/4" thick steel. In what must have been heartbreaking, they watched a ship sail past them without noticing. The next day the wooden steamship SS Alanthus nearly did the same, but then decided to investigate this odd-looking buoy. The conversation that ensued is legendary:

"What ship?" asked the captain with his face near the hole.
"S-5," came the reply.
"What nationality?" he asked.
"American," came the reply.
"Where bound?" he asked.
"TO HELL BY COMPASS!" came the reply.

Amazingly, there were no fatalities. The Navy made several attempts to salvage it, finally giving up the effort in 1921.

This was my first time on the Pirate King, out of Cape May, and I must say it was mighty comfy. I slept on the boat the night before, so the 4am departure didn't bother me at all - in fact I don't think I got out of my bunk until after 8. The sky was a beautiful blue, with nary a zephyr. Some of the guys I knew, some not, but its always easy talking to divers, and we chatted the ride away. The captain gave a hue and a cry, and we all looked to the side to see a pod of dolphins leaping out of the water as they approached the boat.
I ran to the bow with several others, but we were surprised to see that they just disappeared. It was only after several minutes that someone looked down. The entire pod of 11 dolphin were directly below us, surfing the bow wave without scarcely moving their fins. It was intense. I've been lucky enough to see them underwater several times, but they always flash by quickly. Here they were, 5 feet below us and seemingly stationary. Every once in a while one would rise for a breath, and rolling on its side look up at us. They stayed with us for nearly 15 minutes, until the captain cut the throttle back and their free ride was over. Mark Ostojich shot some video that he's let me post:

Shortly thereafter a whale swam by us a ways off the starboard side. No pictures unfortunately, no one had a lens big enough to do it justice. My God what a massive creature.

I splashed to minimal current. The S-5 is in surprisingly good condition, and lies upright in a small washout at 160'. Several hatches were open, offering easy opportunities for penetration. I poked about, and swam around it twice before I could no longer resist. Everywhere I looked were scallops. Everywhere. I've never seen so many in my life! It took me two minutes to stuff two dozen into one bag, and only a little longer to stick 7 dozen into another. Cram I should say, I kept trying to put so many in that I feared they'd cut the bag and all spill out. I had planned on one long dive, but that changed quickly when I realized I needed to go empty my bags. So, at 53 minutes I headed up, with well under an hour of deco. At 80' conditions became tropical, 73 degrees and well over a 100' of visibility. I spent my time rattling a chain and hoping that that plus the steady rain of chicken bones from above would get some attention. I'm not sure if it was causative, but shortly thereafter a porbeagle shark swam by me several times.

Unfortunately dive 2 was not to be, as in the interests of safety we headed in. It seems a diver had had a problem, which led to another problem, which led to a feet-first ascent from 60' with plenty of deco left. He must have been buying scuba indulgences as he was fortunate enough not to have any symptoms. Not how I wanted it, but I now had a slot on the Independence for Sunday's Resor trip. I was able to sleep onboard the boat, which gave me the opportunity to load up early, and observe Marina culture up close. They say familiarity breeds contempt, but in this case it didn't; it was more like rage. Up and down the dock lawnchairs were setup for an impromptu cocktail party so that they were facing each other knee to knee. D'ya think you can move your loud drunken good-god-that's-more-than-I-wanted-to-see fat ass aside long enough for me to move down the dock? Apparently not. Even the yippy dogs lacked the sense to move out of the way. It did make the 5am load-in very sweet though, I reveled in every decibel we made.

The boat was full but not overly so. When we arrived the Gypsy Blood was there picking up their mate who had gotten blown off tying in. Captain Dan put the shot right next to the stern, and in minutes Dave O had us tied in. The scalloping hasn't much recovered from when I took 7 dozen off of here last month, though I was able to scrape together another dozen, as well as one-offs from the other divers. The Resor has some relief at the bow and stern (which was reinforced for what, at the time, was a state of the art propulsion system.) After a quick tour of the stern I headed forward, tying off before entering the debris field. In short order I had made it to the bow, picking up two lobster along the way, before doubling back to play in the debris field. Its quite a tangle of pipes and plates, but I think after another dive or two I should have it laid out sufficiently in mind to skip the reel.

This dive was a bit of a trial run for my Hammerhead. I've been kicking around the idea of going to heliox, and had heard from a friend that the Hammerhead will run it. This has some value to me, since if I tell the Explorer I'm diving 10/90, as opposed to 10/50, it roughly quadruples the deco time. Unfortunately it was the same with the Hammerhead. I left the bottom at 80 minutes, with both explorers showing 40 minutes (10/50), and the Hammerhead calling for over two hours.

I had seen a decent size lobster under some plates, but hadn't wanted to spend the time getting him out (I'm also a bit lobstered out, truth to tell.) When I mentioned it Renee Bachar's ears perked up, so I told her where to find it, and loaned her my tickle stick to aid in the pursuit. You know the line about "no good deed goes unpunished"? All I saw on dive two were big bugs, 4#er after 4#er, and all just out of reach. I did nab a nice 3# one, but it was a she so I released her. Not long after I was trying to twist around a plate to grab another when I felt a cold, uncomfortable sensation: water seeping through the 3/8" hole I had just sliced in my drysuit. I wasn't looking at much deco, but I still wasted no time grabbing my reel and heading the 300' back to the tie, in my haste forgetting my (empty) goody bag. For this dive it was an inconvenience, but I couldn't help thinking how on a longer dive in colder water I'd be in some serious trouble.

It seemed to be a trip for minor mishaps, between the Hammerhead not performing to expectations, the bugs staying beyond arm's length, the cut drysuit, and the lost bag. Just to pile it on, as soon as I climbed aboard my arms started feeling sore. I had done extra deco on both dives, but the bouncy hang on dive one had strained my arms. The deltoids are a hotspot for me, so once my gear was secured I had me a bit of a lie-down on O2. At 15 minutes I felt better, at 20 I was fine. Somewhere in there I fell asleep, which was odd to wake up with a reg in my mouth. Also a little uncomfortable, as my suit was now good and flooded, so that every time I straightened my legs out I got a little internal tsunami.

I really do need to start bringing a bottle of soy sauce and a lemon for scallop sushi. Maybe Dan will let me plug in a rice cooker? 10 dozen scallops for the weekend made the family very happy.

The Lillian September 9 2007

The freighter Lillian met her end in a fog bank, on February 26, 1939. She and the German freighter Wiegand only saw each other when they were a few hundred yards apart. Both ships attempted evasive manuevers, but despite their efforts they collided with such force that the Lillian's bow shoved the Wiegand's portside plating through the superstructure and out the starboard side. Fortunately for the Wiegand the gash was above the waterline, but the Lillian was mortally wounded. With the floors awash the telegraph operator wired the key closed, in order to send out a continuous signal to would-be rescuers. It was a good plan, and all the crew were rescued without casualties. However, the Lillian wasn't quite ready to go down, and over the coarse of the next 8 hours the locked key screeched over the bandwidth, until the Coast Guard shot her aerial off. She finally did sink, 10 hours later and after a salvage ship had steamed to within a hundred yards of her. Bad news for her owners but a boon for wreck divers. Lying in 155' of water, the 238' Lillian has become a 500' long wire-dredged, depth-charged junk pile, and at 26 miles out its over the edge, depth- and location-wise, to what most folks would bother with. The debris is ideal for lobster in particular, and since it is so infrequently dived it tends to be loaded.

Seas were flat and calm for the trip out, and in no time we were tied in. Several years ago I had experimented with sidemount bailout, but never took the time to get it quite right. I always wanted to return to it, so I spent several hours last week tweaking my gear. I must say, I'm very happy with the results. Instead of having the weight of my tanks hanging from my shoulders, which have a tendency to get sore after long dives, it is now more spreadout. It also leaves me with significantly more mobility with the tanks tucked away. I still need to fine-tune things a little, as well as build muscle memory, but I think I'm hooked.

Dropping down the line, I was pleased to see visibility in the 30' range, maybe a little less. Divers may not come here too often but fishermen clearly do, as there was quite a bit of fishing line strewn about. Its pretty disheartening to see so much junk down there. Lemonade from lemons though, in two minutes I found a beautiful 4.5# bug caught up in some line. I was able to call Stephan over for some help, and after numerous snips we had him freed (I think Stephan was looking for something more than his shears to be handed back to him - next time!) Lobster definitely abounded, but most of them were barely legals, or else females, so I put them back (though I had to think long and hard about a particularly bodacious 4# hen.) In the final tally I had the afore-mentioned one, as well as a 3.75# and 2.5# one. The boilers were gargantuan, some of the largest I've ever seen, and the anchor too was just architectural in its immensity. It took some time but I eventually hit paydirt with the scallops, and scooped up several dozen. Flounder were absolutely everywhere; I don't think there was ever a moment there wasn't at least one scattering in front of me. Several goosefish eyed me balefully, they're tasty but way more of a project cleaning-wise than I was interested in.

Continuing my trend of long dives, I didn't leave the bottom until 90 minutes. At 70' the water changed from a brownish dingy 48 degrees to a warm and blue 73 degrees. I cleared one of my computers at 3 hours, the other at 3:35 minutes, and then hung until four hours for extra safety. Definitely a looooonnnnggg hang, but not a bad one. I got a kick out of watching folks drop down for dive two, then come back up, and some of them even climbed up the ladder while I was still hanging.

Back onboard finally, we relaxed and swapped stories and lunches. Fortunately for Charlie the Lillian was not quite so isolated as we thought, since he brought up a bottom timer still in excellent condition, in addition to a very nice cage light.

There had been some doubt as to the weather, but it held up for us the whole time - sunny and warm, with little one-to-twos. On the way in we heard the forecast on the radio: 18' seas with 50 knot winds, starting later that night. It just heightened our satisfaction at getting away with such a beautiful day in September.

Scallop Cleaning Tutorial

It seems like every time I clean up scallops, folks are watching and asking questions. So I decided to make an album up showing the how-to of it. Thanks to Carl Bayer for the pics.

This, my friends, is a scallop

Hold with the flatter shell facing down. Insert scallop knife (divers two has the best ones), and scrape as close to the shell as possible.

Open shell, hopefully you've done a closer cut than I did on this one

Take a handful of guts,and carefully lift them up. They should come off in one piece. Toss them overboard. It's best if others are still in the water, so they can appreciate the attention that a nice chum slick generates

Scrape the muscle as close to the shell as possible

Some folks discard this little piece, as it is relatively chewy. Me, I like it.

Serve with one of these

My favorite way to cook them is to put a cast iron pan on high. When its hot add a dab of oil, butter or both, just enough so the scallop won't stick. You can use a non-stick pan, but I prefer cast iron because you can get it much hotter, and it doesn't cool off as quickly. Drop the scallop in, if your pan is hot enough they'll jump when they hit the heat, and caramelize nicely. I just give them 30 seconds or so per side, so the inside is still raw. In a cold pan they'll just sit there spitting out water and poaching, which is a crime. They are also nice in a ceviche, or grilled wrapped in bacon.