The USS John Penn was an attack transport commissioned by
the Navy on January 8, 1942. On August
13, 1943 the ship was a cargo of ammunition to Guadalcanal when it was attacked
by torpedo planes. The crew was able to
shoot one of the attacking planes out of the sky, which unfortunately crashed
into the ship. Following a secondary hit,
the ship sank, taking with it 98 sailors and stevedores. It now lies off the coast of Honiara in about
160 feet of water.
And the old bastard almost claimed a few more a few weeks
ago. (Okay, that is a bit melodramatic –
but this was about as close as I need to come to dying in a dive
accident.) It is a deep and at times
technical dive. I went out on a boat
with a captain and four other dives, but no official guide (the other divers
had done the wreck a few times before).
The first dive was incredible – crystal clear water and no current. We can up doing the multi-stop required
decompression – and got back on the boat totally pumped.
And here is where we start doing dumb things. The plan had been to go to another site – a much
shallower site – to do the second dive.
But we were already here and the first dive had been so epic – how could
we possibly leave without doing a second dive on the wreck? But the tide would change soon – killing the
viz and kicking up the current – so we cut our surface interval a bit shorter
than would normally be recommended. And
the crap dive shop had given us two light filled tanks – despite me asking them
(twice) if they had checked the air. So
as the lightest breather of the bunch – I got the lightest tank. And we should have had tanks hanging to
assist in the decompression – but we didn’t do that either (though we did bring
a spare tank down). In short – dumb.
But no one ever really gets hurt right? So we go down. And the worst happens. We hit the wreck in almost no visibility and
heavy current. And we lose a diver. What is worse is that the diver we lost was
my friend, my dive buddy that I am supposed to be keeping an eye on, and the
guy that I talked into doing the dive even though it was deep and possibly
technical. At that moment – hanging on
the anchor line – forced to come up slowly to prevent the bends – I was
officially the worst human being on the planet.
So I skipped the last step in my decompression – a 55 minute
at 3 meter stop – to alert the captain that we had a lost diver. And then I pace around on deck for awhile
until we spot him. And then I am so relieved
that I grab my mask and a buoy and start swimming Baywatch style over to make
sure he isn’t dead. Only once all of
that is done and I am back on the boat do I realize that my hands are
tingling. That is an early symptom of decompression
sickness (the bends). So I jump back in
the water to do an emergency in-water re-compression – which of course none of
us know how to do correctly so we just wing it.
And then make an uncomfortable phone call to a dive doctor in Australia
where I had to list off all the stupid things I had done in the previous two
hours. And then spent the night sucking
oxygen with my dive mask on (to prevent me from breathing air). And that last bit sounds terrible until I add
that I still went to the dinner party to which I was invited – carrying my
oxygen tank and sitting in the corner – taking breaks from the oxygen to eat
babaghanoush.
In short – I looked every bit the jackass that I felt. But – like an 8 pm sitcom – I learned a
valuable lesson. Bad things do happen to
dumb divers – and not to be an idiot in the future. But I avoided the decompression chamber and still
made my plane the next day back to DC – with basically no other symptoms of the
bends. That’s got to be worth something right?
I have added some of my wreck diving pictures here – even though
most of them are from boats other than the John Penn (mostly Japanese transport
ships as they were nice enough to crash closer to shore and in shallower
water). They are in black and white
because they look better that way (you can never really get all the blue out of
deep water pictures). And the two that
you don’t know what are are torpedo exit wounds.
Feel free to leave comments saying I am an idiot – in today’s
interconnected world, confessions are held public on the blogosphere.
4 comments:
man, that was dumb. you're such an idiot! be safer next time.
Hey, we ALL make errors that we are sorry for. You made it out, so did he and, next time you will know that shit happens when you least expect it. You continue to be a wonderful woman.
Georgia
Better work out all those kinks before you decide to teach Ada to scuba.
Elin - it is too late for me to work out the kinks before I *decide* to teach Ada to scuba, but maybe I can get my act together before I actually start to teach her. If Tante Kris has her way, you will one day be the proud parent of a marine biologist.
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