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Archive for October, 2009
Larry, the vindictive lobster
When I think of Florida’s oceans, I think of yellow sugar sand beaches, blue crystal clear water, and red sunburned tourists. Little did I know that the Sunshine State is also a great place to die while diving (or snorkeling). I recently read an article on CDNN, the Cyber Diver News Network, which highlighted the unbelievable number of scuba deaths so far in 2009 in Florida. CDNN cited 24 scuba/snorkeling related deaths by July 30 of this year, which made me wonder: what the heck happened to all of these people? A summary:
Ways to die while scuba diving in Florida
Killer Crustaceans – Spiny lobster fishing season only lasts 2 days, but claims at least one death per year. This year it took two. Makes you wonder if the lobsters, who were in mourning for cousin Larry (not seen since last lobster fishing season,) embraced the revenge business this year.
Deadly Decompression – I’m not sure where these folks learned to scuba dive, but clearly the chapter on ascent rates and safety stops was ripped out of their training manual before the class started. Decompression sickness claimed several lives already this year.
Only the Lonely – Are people who visit Florida antisocial? An inordinate number of people seem to want to dive, and die, alone. A killer argument for why you should always dive with a buddy.
Wet Willie – There seems to be a misconception that armed with a snorkel or a scuba rig one can forgo the need to know how to swim or approach raging currents with abandon. Drowning seems to be a problem in Florida as well.
Hey! You Ran Me Over! – Blind Boater Crossing: Divers beware. Several divers and snorkelers met their end by meeting boats head on. Again, it’s a killer argument for carrying a safety sausage, salami, or other life-saving lunchmeat.
Though I jest, this is really a serious subject. Just a reminder on the life-saving benefits of common sense, solid skills, and a little scuba humility.
At a party last night I was trying to explain the finer points of underwater communications to a non-diver. Though I found the conversation stimulating, I’m pretty sure I did a bad job, since I left the party phone-numberless. I’ve revised my thoughts into the highlights below.
Highlights of Underwater Communication
Signal: one hand, fist clenched, thumb pointing up
Meaning: I want to surface now because I am: tired, hungry, low on air, bored, needing a margarita, or I just don’t like diving with you anymore.
Signal: hand held flat, palm down, making a sawing motion across the neck
Meaning: I’m out of air. Unless I sprout gills I’ll be dead soon.
Signal: hand held flat, fingers pointing up on the top of the head like a shark fin
Meaning: A shark fin. Rest of shark attached. Swim fast.
Signal: hand held flat, palm touching mouth
Meaning: I am low on air. I am about to rip your air regulator out of your mouth so I can use it. Or, you can pass it to me. Your choice.
Signal: index and middle finger touching the mask, then pointing outwards at an object
Meaning: There is something very interesting that you must see. Ha, ha, I saw it first.
Looking for a new way to apply your scuba skills for fun and profit? Drug smugglers have the job for you! More than 500 kilos of cocaine have been found hidden near the engine room of an oil tanker in the Spanish port of Tarragona, stashed in a place so small and inaccessible that only a scuba diver entering from outside the tanker could reach it. Authorities said that the external boat room of the ship contained 14 packages of cocaine waiting for an enterprising Egyptian scuba diver to obtain it once it reached its final destination in Egypt. What I want to know is how would that scuba diver move 500 kilos of anything unaided, and how does the diver keep all of that powder dry when leaving the hiding place? I can’t even keep my t-shirt dry on a dive boat, and it stays above water.
Idyllic Maldives...Still Above Water (for now)
OK, I get it. The Maldives are sinking. Rising ocean levels caused by climate change will shortly wipe the archipelago off the map. I keep seeing snippets of news mentioning the islands’ plight and the Presidential efforts to find a new home for the 400k non-gilled individuals who live there. But the latest publicity stunt to bring attention to the issue seems a bit…wet. The President of the Maldives and his Cabinet met underwater to sign a declaration calling for global cuts in carbon emissions that will be presented before a U.N. climate summit in Copenhagen, Denmark, in December.
It couldn’t have been a long meeting, since though shallow, they were relying on scuba gear and canned air. And, communication must have been difficult because, as far as I know, there are no underwater hand signals for “declaration,” “carbon emissions,” or “pass me a pen so I can sign this darn thing.” Once back on land, the ministers signed their wetsuits and are planning on selling them to raise money for coral reef conservation, which I hope they are not relying on to fund the entire effort. At last check on Craig’s list, used wetsuits weren’t going for much. Used wet suits, $15. Sorry I peed in it, we were down there for awhile trying to get that pen to write. Finally, after seeing a picture of the ministers congregated underwater, I now understand the message they were trying to send: “Please help us stop rising ocean levels because we look really ridiculous sitting at desks underwater trying to conduct business.”
The cruise dock in Belize did not exude “jungle paradise” as I expected. Before the cruise the thought of Belize conjured up visions of toucans, jaguars, and fierce Inca men with rippling muscles. Instead, the dock was full of concrete, marine shipping box piles, and skinny men running around like ants trying to secure our boat. I hoped the experience would improve from there.
The divers from our cruise were loaded onto a minibus so that we could drive to the designated dive shop. There were ten of us in total. The rest of the divers appeared normal, except for three guys who looked like Navy Seals. They were tall, well-muscled men with crew cuts and an entire store worth of scuba gear tucked into enormous black duffle bags. They looked like they were going to dive the deep Titanic rather than the shallow Belize shores. Their gear listed our minibus to the left side during the entire ride to the dive shop.
Again we signed our life away in accident waiver forms when we arrived at the dive shop. I have always wondered why shops require divers to perform this task. The pens never work because the salt air instantly corrodes them. The counters are always wet so the minute one puts the paper down to sign it, it turns into a squishy mess. And, finally, there is never anyplace in a dive shop that is well organized enough to store something like the thousands of waiver papers a shop would collect in a year. I am sure there are parrot cages all over the globe that are lined with these liability releases.
We boarded the dive boat and set up our gear. I knew the divemasters were assessing our skills based on how our knowledge of the hoses, gauges and straps that are involved in a scuba setup. I suspected they might insist I wear water wings after I tried to set up my tank backwards. Twice. I finally got my gear set up correctly, and then contorted myself into my wetsuit, an activity I perform as graceful as a sailor swearing.
The divemaster took us on a whirlwind underwater tour of Terraces Reef, patiently pointing out large sea life like turtles and small creatures like decorator crabs. I acted like paparazzi at each stop, snapping picture after picture of starlet starfish with my camera. I learned when developing my pictures from Bora Bora that fish swim, frequently out of focus or out of the frame altogether. By looking at my pictures, one would assume Bora Bora had a lot of empty water. I had prepared to practice my underwater photography skills more on this trip.
I had not prepared for the new and fascinating sea life that revealed itself to us on this trip. Most notably were the green moray eels anywhere from five to ten feet in length. Morays have dorsal fins that extend evenly from their head all the way to their tail and very large teeth, making them look like angry green vipers with full body mohawks. I saw moray eels in French Polynesia, but they all hid in the reef with only their faces and fierce-looking mouths exposed.
In Belize the Morays were free-swimming, something that most types of eels usually do only at night. These long, green ribbons of muscle undulated through the water like Cruella De Vil’s feather boa. Because of their notoriously poor vision, morays are not known for biting humans offensively, usually reserving this defensive tactic for when a diver’s hand or foot is put mistakenly into their hole in the reef. Seeing the full length and body power behind the large teeth as they cruised around the reef gave me the creeps; their full exposure expanded their menace exponentially. Although the two dives were fascinating, I was glad to end my time with those particular reef residents.
Vinnie the Venomous Fish
Great White sharks get all the press when it comes to discussion of the ocean’s deadliest killers. But, plenty of other things in the sea are just as mean and nasty, if not more so. A selection of some of my favorites:
Vinnie the Venomous Fish – Imagine being a lowly fish, armed only with the ability to school and a sense of sea humor. Now add a little venom to your arsenal, and suddenly you are a Big Bad Swimming Machine. Venomous fish like stonefish, lionfish and scorpion fish produce their own toxins then generously share it with the rest of the aquatic world via their already unpleasant spines. My favorite is the stonefish, who are at their deadliest when lying on the ocean bottom doing nothing at all except looking like…you guessed it…an ugly stone. All it takes is a passerby with a naked foot and a bad aim and bam, you get one unhappy tourist (and the fish is a little flatter for the experience as well.)
Octopussy – James Bond proved one could overcome their enemies by throwing a Blue Ringed Octopus on their face in this classic 1980’s spy movie. Theoretically I suppose this could work, though you are likely to get bitten in the process. Since it injects neuromuscular paralyzing venom that can kill a human in minutes, you won’t really get to enjoy your victory over the forces of evil for very long. Better to remove the bad guy’s shoes and point him in the direction of some stonefish instead.
They Freak Me Out On Land, Too – Sea snakes tend to favor the warm, fish-filled tropical waters that most scuba divers also like. Though shy unless provoked, a single snake produces enough poison to kill not only you, but the rest of the folks on your dive boat, too. Most are a normal snake size, but a few can grow to seven feet or more. I personally am sure that if I ran into a seven-foot sea snake while diving I would give up the sport right then and there.
Although Hawaii offered so many things to do above the waves, we couldn’t visit without dipping into the vast, dark blue Pacific Ocean. Several years back a hotel on the Big Island noticed that the underwater running lights on their dock attracted plankton at night. In turn, the plankton party attracted fish that liked to eat plankton, most notably manta rays. Someone figured out that they sat on a gold mine, as the opportunity to see manta rays up close and personal is not a common occurrence, though many people would jump at the chance. And jump we did, right into a taxi that dropped us off at the doorstep of Hotel Ray.
The program and process for attracting the rays evolved over the years. The hotel replaced the dock running lights with powerful lights placed on the sea floor in about fifteen to twenty feet of water. The lights shone upwards towards the surface, creating illuminated water columns. The columns’ contrast to the dark surrounding water was in itself a sight to see, from the water as well as from the land.
Two types of people comprised the manta watcher group: snorkelers and divers. Snorkelers would float at the surface, looking down on the manta action. Divers would descend to the bottom, sitting on the sea floor to watch the excitement above. The tour leader instructed both groups to stay still, a tough task in the surging shallow waters. Fortunately, the night shone clear and the sea washed calm. To enter the water we would climb down the ladder at the dock’s end. What thoughtful mantas; they could not be more convenient.
The purpose of the lights was to entice the plankton into a condensed and tasty group. But, the lights could not do the job until the sun stopped performing its primary function. So, we sat on the beach and waited for an appropriate amount of darkness while our divemaster briefed us on the impending plankton palooza.
Manta rays are notoriously shy creatures,” he said. “Touching them could cause them to leave, so please look with your eyes, not with your hands. Although the moon is pretty bright tonight, it will be quite dark in the water if you are not near the lights. Stick to the group; no swimming off on your own. We would hate to have to feed you to the mantas for not following instructions,” he concluded with a smile. Some of the other tour members looked stricken. Perhaps he should have explained that mantas don’t eat people. Or, perhaps watching squirming tourists provided an enjoyable diversion for him. Surely the people in our group who were not knowledgeable about mantas would give him a big tip at the end of the night if they didn’t get consumed.
As darkness approached we made our way down the dock and off the ladder into the water. The divers entered first so we could descend to the bottom free of entangling snorkeler legs, arms, and rear ends. A staff member turned on the lights as we descended. The lighted streams looked like Bat Signals. I wondered if the beam’s middle held a black symbol in the shape of a manta.
The light attracted small fish in droves, perhaps out of curiosity. The water in the light columns began to look cloudy, a clear indicator that the plankton had arrived. Plankton, microscopic tasties that are the oceanic food chain’s building blocks, can’t be seen with the naked eye but large volumes of the critters create a milky haze. We waited for the mantas just like we had waited for the tuna when we went deep sea fishing. The Hawaiians sure possessed patience.
Then, a shadow passed through the light, blocking it momentarily. The shadow moved so fast I could not even tell the animal’s shape; it appeared and disappeared instantly. My adrenaline popped and my legs tensed as I strained to look all around from my kneeling position. I didn’t need to be a contortionist; soon the mantas flew through the water from all directions, swooping in and out of sight. As my eyes adjusted to their speed, I could make out their aerodynamic, triangular shape. Their bellies were white and reflected the light. I imagined it would be tougher for the snorkelers on the surface to see the rays since their backs were a dark color, enabling them to blend in with the shadowy water. The mantas fed with abandon, funneling plankton rich water into their gaping mouths.
After fifty minutes that flew by like five, the divemaster indicated it was time to ascend. Many of the snorkelers already returned to the dock, tired from keeping afloat. The divers were ready for another fifty, however, after enjoying their own version of theater in the round on the sandy bottom. The divemaster left the lights on to illuminate our way back to the dock. We followed the divemaster along the bottom the short distance to the ladder, ensuring we did not disturb the mantas that continued to feed.
The entire group gushed about the experience once we all surfaced and dried off. The mantas were beautiful and graceful and…sooo close. Hawaii offered a unique opportunity to easily see the animals. Last time they graced our presence Michael and I traveled thousands of miles to Bora Bora to see them. And as a bonus, the company that coordinated the Hawaiian event did a great job caring not only for the tourists, but also for the sea life. We recommended the experience highly to everyone we met on the remainder of our Big Island trip.
The most un-fishlike robots we've ever seen...
Nissan is fishing ideas out of the sea. Last week, at a Tokyo technology show, the carmaker revealed Eporo, robot cars that mimic fish schooling behavior using laser range finders and radio communications. Their goal is to ultimately apply the technology to cars to produce crash-free driving experiences.
I love the concept, but I have to say that the worldwide commentary surrounding this new technology has not been kind. Perhaps it is the shape and colors of the robots, earning them comparisons to Teletubies, Weebles, ewoks, and, unfortunately, klansmen (just the white ones, though.) Or, perhaps the name is the problem, as one blogger said “I read the logo as Eporno. Now I’m disappointed.” Whatever the case, Nissan will have to revisit the marketing of its aquatic initiative if they want the public to think of it as anything other than fishy.
Call me a purist, but my idea of a great dive involves warm water, great visibility and plenty of sea life. There are those, however, who are looking for something a bit more…challenging. Thanks to an interesting article on webecoist.com, I’m now enlightened on some of the most bizarre dive sites on the planet. A sample:
Nuclear Missile Silo – Fortunately the US Government took the nukes with them when they abandoned the site located right in the heart of Texas. Now a technical diving training facility, this place boasts cold, dark water to a depth of 130 feet. Sure, you might start glowing in the dark after prolonged submersion, but hey, the fun is worth the radioactivity.
Giant Red Sea Hole – The coast of the East Sinai Peninsula contains a huge, water-filled vortex that reaches over 400 feet into the earth. Divers descend into the gloom to reach the hard-to-find passageway that connects the hole to the open ocean. The creepy-factor of the place is increased exponentially by the large number of makeshift monuments around the hole that honor all the people who have died while diving it. At this site you can come face to face with death, and find out what brand of BCD he uses.
Ammunitions Depository –Historically Thai people dumped ammunition in the Samaesan Hole. Now they dump divers there. You can have a real blast here diving to 300 feet amongst unexploded munitions. Though advertised as a perfect site for trimix training, I would challenge that the person who needs to hone their “deep diving with exploding bombs” skills probably needs to find a new job.
Fish love...
The Yapese way of life and its ocean wonders had enriched our time on the island. However, we had one last dive we wanted to do before leaving. It was a very shallow one, only sixteen feet maximum, and had to be done right after sunset. At that time of night in the shallows of Rainbow Reef there is a special “adults only” show: Mandarin Fish in Love.
The Mandarin Fish is only two to three inches long, but has a stunning, striped color pattern of blue, green, orange, red, and yellow. They are shy creatures, hiding amongst the coral most of the time. But at dusk the males hit on the ladies at the coral reef pick up bar.
“I’m a Pisces. I like slow swims and moonlit crustacean dinners. Turn offs include bright light, sudden movements and predators. But, jump on my pelvic fin and I’m yours for at least thirty seconds! No scales here, I’m covered in sexy slime. I’ve only got a twelve-year lifespan, so I’m not looking for long term relationships.”
We entered the water, floated to the bottom, and sat on the sandy floor facing a large boulder of coral. Tanks seemed like overkill; we could have used long straws for this shallow depth. I had put on a hood to keep me warm as I usually do on a night dive, but quickly realized my mistake when I started to sweat in the eighty degree water. We had bright flashlights to spot the fish, but if it was me at the bar I would have found the beams to be poor mood lighting.
We did not have to wait long for the peep show to start. Soon the heads of females were popping up between the coral fingers, closely followed by the males. They met near the coral and swam up together several feet off the reef. Their mating then culminated in a brief release of sperm and egg. Finally, in a fraternity house finish, the pair then quickly separated and disappeared among the coral.
It was an easy, but amazing dive; a great way to end our time in Yap.