Posts Tagged ‘u-869’

What’s worse than seeing a 20 ft shark?

Tuesday, August 25th, 2009
Independence II

The short answer is: not having your camera, but that’s a story in it self. Today’s dive was to the U-869 AKA the U-who. The Independence was filled with quality NJ divers, but most of them had never been on this wreck. I was diving with a student, Tom, who was also visiting the wreck for the first time.

We headed out early in the flat calm seas left in the wake of Hurricane Bill. We made good time to the wreck. Bill and Brandon went into tie in. It gonfiabili often takes a few minutes since you never do anything fast in 230 fsw. I helped the first group of divers get in, then we geared up. After buddy checks, we reviewed the plan one more time, then splashed.

The surface temp was high 70s, no current, and the water was very clear. Brandon and Bill were hanging, and Brandon took the opportunity to snap off a few of his great shots. If I were not with a student, I would have paused a few moments to give him a model, but Tom was dropping fast, and I wanted to catch up. We passed other groups of divers on the way. Many had lobsters in their bags.

The line was completely slack all the way down to the wreck. No current at any level. This is unusual out here. Often the current changes directions at different levels. There was nothing, anywhere. It was obvious that there were many layers. You could see them as you passed through. The vis would change, and you could see the water go from cloudy to clear to cloudy. Some of the layers were thermoclines, and the temp started dropping. Below 120ft we felt the drop down to 46 degrees. After a few minutes it started to get dark, and I switched on my light. Now I could easily signal my position, and could see my buddy. Tom started slowing his decent. I’m not sure if he was waiting for me, or if he just needed more time to clear his ears. Either way, I caught up.

My gauges indicated that we were within 50 ft of the wreck, but nothing was coming into view. We continued to drop. The faint glow of a strobe lit up the area. The vis had dropped to 10 ft, and the wreck suddenly appeared below us. The chain was wrapped around a cylinder on top of the wreck.

With the short vis, I immediately reached from my reel. I’ve never run a reel on this wreck before, but I did not want to miss the line with a student in tow. Given the depth and conditions, I was concerned that Tom might be nervous. This proved completely unfounded, as he soon grabbed a lobster and put it in his bag. Not that we were here for lobster, but when they are right there, what do you do?

Given the conditions, we swam slowly along the wreck trying to identify anything we could. We reached the Bow, and dropped down the side to the sand 230ft. This was perfect timing for our dive plan as it was time to turn around. We returned slowly to the line and arrived ahead of schedule. With a few minutes left we continued aft, and found that we were tied in just ahead of the break. We quickly inspected the blast area, which contains a jumble of ripped and torn steal, then doubled back to the line.

At this point, I was happy I had run the line. The strobes on the anchor were no longer visible. We were only a few feet away, but could see nothing. For a few seconds your heart skips. Replay your steps. Ok, there it is. I was not so concerned for myself, as my gas plan left me lots of reserve. I never know how conservative a student is with there gas estimates. We reached the line with a minute or two to spare, and signaled UP.

The long slow assent starts. The initial stops are still cold, and now that we are not swimming, the cold can be felt. Clearing the 100 ft stop brought the temp up to 55. That’s a huge change and it felt great. Soon we could see other divers above us. Those we passed on the way down the line, were now hanging at their shallower stops. Above 50 ft the temp jumped back into the 70s and vis was fantastic.

Tom had run his numbers with the VR3, while I was running V-planner. As we discussed, I would have longer deeper stops, and shorter shallow stops. This was more evident that I realized. Most of my early stops, I was 10-20 feet below him. At 40 ft we matched up, then at 20 ft he indicated 10 minutes as I was cleared for the surface.

At some point in this evolution, we were hanging with another four divers around the 20 ft stop. Two divers had ascended the anchor line, while the rest of use went up the Caroline line. Time passes slowly, and we were just hanging there for our stops to clear. I looked down and noticed a very large object moving in the water below us In the clear water, I could easily make out the features of a very large shark. The nose had the distinct features of a basking shark. From above we could not see the mouth, but the snout was unmistakable. I looked to my fellow divers who were transfixed on their gauges. I got their attention, and pointed out the shark. It swam slowly around the Caroline line below us, then doubled back to the anchor line. It swam around the lines in a figure eight, then swam slowly off into the distance. Since it swam between the lines, we knew it was only about 20 ft below us. Comparing its size to the divers on the bow line, I estimate it was a minimum of 20ft. I’ve seen Basking sharks before, but never this clearly. It was an awe inspiring sight!

While we were really psyched at the incredibly cool experience, I was chastising myself for not bringing my camera. Given I was with a student, on a deep dive, I did not want the extra task loading. I was planning on grabbing it after the dive, and snapping a few shots of the other divers entering and leaving the water. Well, I did not have it now, and was quite disappointed! We spent the rest of our decompression looking around for the shark to return, or perhaps one of its school (as Basking sharks are know to swim in schools). No such luck.

Once on the surface, we did talk about the shark, and some asked what type it was.  I’m sure it would have been a much more heart pounding experience for those that did not know. I did grab the camera, and swam around the boat taking a few shots. Captain Dan, and Danny jumped in for a dive and to pull the hook. The sea was flat calm, with no current. It was an enjoyable wait just floating in the water.

Before long we were underway for the long trip home. It was a great day, and many will tell the story of seeing a huge basking shark.

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My First Dive on the U-869

Sunday, October 21st, 2007

With GREAT expectation, we headed out for my first dive on the to U-869. After reading The Last Dive and Shadow Divers, I had a few butterflies in my stomach. I’m about to dive on this wreck that has brought significant recognition to NJ diving. On the other hand, a few divers here paid dearly to be part of the mystique that is Northeast wreck diving history.

The NOAA forecast was for 4-6 ft seas, dropping down to 2-4 during the day. On the way out the waves were behind us, aka following seas, so it did not hinder our trip. The captain kept a close eye on the conditions. As junior member of the crew, I was driving at 6:00am while the rest slept.  Nearing the wreck, Mark and I quietly geared up for the tie-in. It was our first time on the wreck, so we were given a brief on the best tie-in points to look for.

The shot was dropped from 240 ft above the wreck, as the captain looked at the depth finder and GPS. We waddled precariously across the pitching deck. The rebreathers lighten our load considerably, but the bailout bottles hanging from our sides make the going awkward. The 6 foot waves don’t help. Within seconds Mark and I were in the water, following the line down into the depths.

After what seems like minutes of dropping I check my gauges: 50 ft… 100 ft… 150 ft…

It’s amazing how long it takes to get this deep. The NAUI charts say that the max decent rate is 75 ft per minute. Go ahead and try to drop that fast. The entire descent involves several tasks repeated in rapid succession: clear your ears, filling your drysuit. add wing gas, check and adjust the PO2 in the rebreather, check on your buddy, don’t get caught in the line. Now repeat as often as possible. It’ is slow going. Friends say I drop fast, but 50 ft/min is about all I can manage. At that rate it’s still 5 minutes before seeing the wreck.

Around 150 the lights start going out fast. The faint glow of my gauges made the numbers easy to read, and reassured me that it was not my vision causing the problem. The surface water had been clear, but each foot of water contained plankton and minerals that blocked the light from penetrating further. I reached back and hit the switch on my canister light. A dim but reassuring flicker appear in front of me. We were still dropping down as I strapped the light head to the back of my right hand. It takes a few seconds for the light to come to full brightness and form a beam, but it was only illuminating the water and plankton below, much like a cars hi-beams in fog. Mark was just a few feet above me. At first I would look over my shoulder to check on him, but now with his light’s beam glowing below me, he can signal if he has a problem.

Slowly out of the dark something appears to reflect the light. We’ve been dropping for a while, so at first you wonder if it’s just the reflection off plankton, or more fish, or maybe your eyes playing tricks. I quickly check the depth, 200ft. We’re getting close. Then it’s evident, it’s an object. It’s whitish. As we get closer anemones come into focus. The object is about 20 ft by 10 ft. , and it’s in the sand. It’s the conning tower. Ok, I know where I am. Now what did they say about where to tie in?

The visibility is very good, but it’s only about 8:20am, and its VERY dark. Only the beams of our lights are visible. My mix is 10/50. That’s 10% O2 and 50% He. Still at this depth, there is some Narcosis. I recall from the brief there is a good tie-in point on the periscope, and aft of the break in the hull at the gun turret. I see the shot line, and look around for a few seconds for the points mentioned. Let’s see, periscope, yes, that’s a few feet to the right. Gun turret, yes, thats 20 ft ahead of us. All the while, I’m adjusting my buoyancy, boosting my PO2, and checking my gear before setting into action.

I looked back at the line, and find Mark has grabbed the chain and headed out for the gun turret. Not my preference given the proximity of the periscope, but communication is difficult at these depths, and and he seemed to be on a mission. I grab the line and head after him trying to lighten his load. The chain is heavy enough, but the drag of 300ft of rope through water, is significant. Fortunately, there is not much current today, and we make good headway. We reached the top of the wreck, and Mark found a good spot. By this time he was a bit winded, and signals me to finish the wrap. Once done, I pull the signal floats from my pocket. The pressure on the bottom is 8 times that of the surface. The little signals, normally the size of your hand, are now the size of a quarter. I let them go, and watch them rise slowly. It will probably be another 5 minutes before they reach the surface.

Mark signaled that he was OK, but wanted to stay put and rest for a moment. I was too excited to hang around. I headed down to the break in the hull to look around. Thoughts of going inside crossed my mind briefly, but I wanted to get a good look around first. The vis appeared to be 40+ ft, beyond the range of my feeble light. Swimming aft along the top of the wreck, there was the gun turret and the hole in the engine compartment. The outer skin of the sub was long gone, the inner pressure hull was wrapped in ribs that had held the outer hull in place. Between the rips were pipes, valves, hatches, and lots of sea life. I dropped down to examine the stern, rudder and screws.

Unfortunately bottom time was short, as we took half of it on the tie-in. I returned to the line to find Mark starting up. We started our long ascent to the surface. Fortunately the bottom was relatively warm (44), and as it worked out the thermocline was at about 70 ft. This made for a relatively warm ascent by Northeast standards. The upper stops were a bit rocky with a mild current. Jon lines kept us from being beat up too badly. At the surface, the passengers were now awake, and everyone was waiting for a report on the conditions. Boarding the boat was manageable as the waves were settling down to 3-5. Even NOAA may have gotten this one right.

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