Alaska Dive Report - Short Verson is it is Fun to Dive

Landed in Anchorage, Alaska on Friday afternoon then headed for the dive
shop. Had to get my tanks filled and rent a couple spares for a weekend of
planned diving. After a short stop the car was fully loaded and we were
heading south toward Seward.



By packing all dive gear and clothes in two bags we had plenty of capacity
for added "luggage." I broke down my doubles, put a handle on each tank,
and treated each tank as a piece of luggage. (Carried on the double
manifold in my camera bag and stuck the bands in the dive bag.) Each tank
weighed 37 pounds so the weight was well under the bag weight limit. I
wanted my doubles so I could be sure of not needing weights. The shiny,
stainless, backplate fit nicely under my coat and the TSA checkers don't
even look at you funny when you take it off and slide it trough the giant
x-ray machine.



Received a rental car upgrade at the airport; a precursor to more good
fortune to follow. Rented a Neon but all they had was a G6. While the
trunk is really unhandy with the small access area and high lip off the rear
bumper, there was more room for gear and bags than the Neon would afford.
With the car loaded we headed south.



Three hours later we arrived in Seward. Our ocean-view room was ready and
room service packed the gear and bags to our quarters. The time difference
slowed the clock so it appeared early but we were tired and headed off to
meet the sandman of the north.



Saturday morning we arrived at the dock with gear and lunch. The boat was
to dock a bit before 9 and leave promptly on the hour. It's some distance
to dive spots in Alaska waters so you expect some boat ride. You'd think
that the water would be clear and cold but that is not correct much of the
time. Glaciers melt in the summer and whenever it is warm enough for water
to be carried from the glacier to where water meets its own level. The
melting water carries crushed sediment from the glacier making the water a
milk color. Much of the water is the color of chalk. Clear water can be
found wherever the glacier runoff is not going or far from where the runoff
enters the ocean. We planned 12 miles from port and wreck diving in an area
well known to the captain.



Saturday was rainy and cold - a typical day on the south coast of Alaska.
We arrived at the dock early leaving time to scout the area to see what was
going on. The silver salmon were running and fisherman lined the banks of
the fiord-like inlet. In the water there were dozens of boats. The guys,
including a fair number of women, were snagging silvers at a furious pace.
There were many different styles and techniques but it all amounted to
dragging a treble hook thru the water until a fish was hooked and then
dragging it onto the shore. And they were being dragged onto the shore as
fast as I've ever seen fish caught.



Silver salmon run this time of year. They are hooked, dragged up on shore,
clubbed, and then the arteries are cut to bleed them out. The average
fisherman that I saw had a pole, reel, short bat, and instrument to cut the
fish. You could see there is some degree of finesse to the act of landing
then detaching the fish. Apparently you don't club it but to stun it so it
will hold still so you can cut it and bleed it out. I suspect this
preserves the market value of the fish as those in the fish market still
have their wits about them as proved by the presence of the head.



Heading on out the captain mentions that the salmon can be seen where we are
but not where we're going. In order to get the salmon tour one needs to get
wet here and now. Well, I suit up and jump in. The visibility was not
great, maybe it wasn't even good, but it was good to get wet and there were
lots of salmon.



I had about five minutes on the computer when it appeared the dive wasn't
going great. The fish flashed by and I'd get a glimmer of the silver flash
not too far in front of my mask. It would go so quick that it wasn't like
seeing anything clear but you knew what it was. Sometimes they came quickly
and from odd directions, making me jump. I drifted with the flow, in if I
remember correctly as high tide wasn't until later in the morning.



There were many fisherman pulling fish from the water for food. At the same
time, nature's fishermen were working the waters too. Ten minutes into the
dive I'd apparently drifted into range of a group snagging from a very nice
boat. They had drifted while I had swum to our appointed rendezvous. I
heard the thud of what sounded like stones hitting the water. Then, with
little warning a hooked fish darted into me, unintentionally I'm sure. The
fish was followed by a shark apparently smelling the blood and hoping for a
quick hunger fix. I didn't have but a fraction of a second to think when I
felt a stabbing pain in my side and something starting to drag me from my
precarious viewing position. I was mumbling and cussing while being hauled
away as the catch of the day.



My drysuit was ripping and water was leaking in chilling me faster than I
care to ever be chilled again. The hook was set in my woolies and barely
nicked my skin. The force of setting the hook and dragging me through the
water ripped a hole about two inches long. I was sitting at the ass end of
a fishing boat chilled to the bone and hoping they were not going to start
the engines and grind their catch of the day. I finally had enough air in
the bladder of the BC to float to the surface. After all, I wanted to
return their hook before I went on my way.



I'll never let it be said again that a guy should just use his drysuit for
floatation and not the BC. Even though the drysuit inflated like it was
might just have saved my life by keeping the hook away from my body. One
really need both.



Anyway the guys on the boat were real nice. They pulled my ass up and set
me down with about a million I'm sorrys coming across their lips. The water
was running out of my suit thru the hole as the treble hook was detached
from my clothing and hooked to the large eye of the fisherman's pole. Even
more water poured out as I unzipped my zipper and doffed my now unworkable
protective suit. By this time the captain of the dive boat was alongside
wondering what had happened and how I was doing. With little fanfare I
announced I wasn't going diving and needed to return to the dock. My new
best fishing buddies pleaded to return me to the dock so the captain could
be on his way to his appointed destination. He offloaded my gear and in
just a few minutes I was walking to my room and a warm shower.



The guy who hooked me came by later in the day to see how I was doing. He
felt real bad about what had happened and offered me a train ride later in
the week. I said sure, what to heck, might be fun.



We stayed at the shore for two nights then headed to Anchorage for a couple
days of sightseeing before boarding the train. I did a bit of research on
the train route and stops and decided to try diving again - this time in the
river. On Wednesday we boarded the train with my dive gear and double
tanks. I used one of the single tanks for my dive with salmon and decided
on the doubles for this excursion because no additional weight was required.
Seemed like a good choice for the trek.



It was a long ride so when the train slowed at the intersection of the
rivers it was almost a pleasure to jump off for my next big dive adventure.
I used the time on the train to repair the rip in the drysuit and make sure
that everything was shipshape with the gear. The wooly underwear was washed
and dried at the lodging in Anchorage. I was ready to dive again.



I threw the tanks off the train because they were too darn heavy to walk
with when I'm carrying the rest of my gear. There isn't that much room on
the steps of the train car and it's a pretty good distance from the bottom
step to the ground when the pedestal is not stationed for offloading. The
train goes really slow at specific locations including this area due to the
age of the track and the existence of landslides in the area. The tanks
landed on their bottoms and scratched the paint but suffered no other
apparent damage. I hit the ground walking, grabbed the tank under the
isolation valve, and proceeded to attach the backplate. That appeared to me
to be the best solution to packing these bad boys down the hill to the
river.



After about a half hour of sliding in loose gravel I arrived at a spot in
the river that appeared to me to be perfect for starting the next dive
adventure. I was hot and quite wet with sweat. The sun was late in the sky
taking its warmth with it over the mountain. Alaska can seem hot when you
stand in the sun and cold when you're covered by a shadow. Maybe that has
to do with the permafrost. 85% of Alaska has permafrost. That is where it's
frozen below the surface of the ground. It is frozen and stays frozen all
year round. It's the reason there is so much water in Alaska on the surface
of the ground. The water can't soak in because of the permafrost. I'm
thinking that cooling by this permafrost sneaks up out of the ground to get
you the minute the sun is shadowed. It didn't take long to cool down and
suiting up was comfortable and warming.



I kept my clothes on with my underwear so there was no bag to carry. I even
stuffed my tennis shoes in so they would stay dry. It was interesting
getting in the water because it was shallow but quite irregular. The river
seemed like a mile wide - maybe it was a mile wide, who knows? I had to get
to the other side where the road passes. The train tracks were on the west
side of the river while the road was on the east side. I needed to catch a
vehicle after the dive because the train wasn't going to come back for me.
The current was swift and soon I was dodging rocks at current speed heading
downstream-east.



Depth varied greatly as did the speed of the water. There were a few fish
in the somewhat milky, cold, glacial runoff. I zipped along with plenty of
air and plenty of time to finish the dive well before dark. I surfaced and
took a bearing; somewhat amazed at how far I'd drifted from the point of
entering the water. The railroad bridge that was within viewing distance
from where I departed the train was no longer visible. Not to worry, the
road was still to the east. I descended.



About a half hour later I could tell I was nearing the eastern shore. It
was easy to tell because I ran into it when swimming. I started to surface
and ponder my ride when all of a sudden I heard a splash, then felt a slam
to the tank, and something pushing me down. What the heck? I raised my arm
and vented air descending low enough to look up and see something swimming
over me. As it passed I could see big paws and claws and a dogpaddling
brown bear. Damn!



By this time I was just behind the beast and still quite negative buoyancy
wise. I reached up and grabbed the beast's tail and pulled my body onto the
bears back making sure not to get caught by the protruding claws of his hind
paws. I figured that bear had all it could do to swim and wouldn't mind me
if I just hung on its back. At least it wouldn't think I was a fish and try
to kill me - again. I pulled myself up and to my surprise the bear,
although it was big, was unable to swim and keep its head above water. As
it slowly sank in the river you could see the life pulled by the permafrost
below. I was scared shitless but I wasn't letting go until that bear was in
permanent hibernation. We sank; the bear snorted the water from his
nostrils, surged for a few kicks of his strong legs, then sank and snorted
the cold water of death. I breathed many a long breath before releasing my
grip on the bear's back and resting in the shallows of the gravel river bed.



I looked around to see if this bear had any relatives fishing nearby then
spied a long-haired, bearded, hippy-type, pot grower watching me from shore.
This is the end of the crop year and most of the good weed is gone from the
farm but this gentleman had some late plants that were held up by the August
and early September rains. You need sunny, dry, weather for the pot crop or
you won't get much THC - the drug that gets you high. I was a bit
apprehensive to approach the middle age entrepreneur because many of these
guys are goofy and shoot the guns they carry. While that's a winning
combination for rec.scuba it's not always a safe combination for scuba
safety or general longevity of life. I dragged the bear as best I could so
it wouldn't float down river then took off my tanks and walked toward the
man now starting a fire with some dry wood and grass. I hoped against hope
that he had a cup of coffee.



Come to find out his name was Robin. He told me his story, which I've heard
many times before. No real twists except for the fact that he damn sure
never saw a diver drown a grizzly bear. We talked for a while and it
started to get dark. It was about 9 PM and I didn't get any coffee but did
have a good time resting and shooting the shit. Robin was thinking that a
couple days of sun would get him back to Anchorage. I was thinking that a
little luck would get me to Fairbanks before midnight. I hit the road and
hitched a ride.



That's about it for this dive adventure. I did two dives: one short and one
long. Both were unusual and unsuspected events occurred. It was good that
I remembered that as long as you dive the table you are invincible and can't
get DCS or hurt in any other way. It was good that I carried my doubles
because that extra tank provided the right stuff to save my life in a
critical air situation. Being properly weighted for every diving condition
is the delta D rule of rec-fucking-dot-scuba that really saved my bacon and
kept me from calling home extra long distance. I'm sure there are others
that should be thanked and I apologize for missing any of you studs or
studlets, naturally!



Stayed in Fairbanks a couple days, saw the museum and sites of town, then
boarded the train for Anchorage. As I passed the riverbed there were white
water rafters, a backpacker heading south, and a missing brown bear from the
spot where I left him in the river. I'm thinking that grizzly was just
playing possum and he is back to swatting salmon and fattening up for winter
hibernation. I might be wrong about that but that sure is what I'm hoping.



Arrived in Anchorage and returned to the hotel for a couple more days of
rest and relaxation. I mostly slept or lay in bed and watched TV. I
thought about a quick dive in a shallow, clear, lake but I thought it best
to return one tank of gas full. It's like seed, when you sow it, it will
grow. I've got this tank of gas in Anchorage that is growing and it will
grow into many more tanks and another great adventure in The Last Frontier.

Amazing.
Did you meet Jack London?
Matthias


ben bradlee wrote:

> Landed in Anchorage, Alaska on Friday afternoon then headed for the dive
> shop. Had to get my tanks filled and rent a couple spares for a weekend of
> planned diving. After a short stop the car was fully loaded and we were
> heading south toward Seward.
>