Friday, May 17, 2013

bumps, bruises, & the bends

'A New Life in the Sea' by Michael Lombardi Working dives are hard. There's no way around it. Most often, the tasks we carry out are not with surgical precision - they are with a crowbar.

Working divers are they themselves tools of the trade. Much like an ROV that is sent on a  dive equipped to carry out a task, the diver is sent on a dive to carry out a task. One thing that an ROV can certainly not do is break a ten year old shackle buried 3 feet into spooge mud in zero visibility. How's that for job security!The brute force required to do this type of grunt work is among the reasons why we will forever need divers working in the ocean. This is among the more superficial reasons, but is indeed a reason.

This type of work illustrates our limitations as well however - that is that we are indeed human and can feel pain. Further, once we're broken, we're hard to fix, and expensive to replace!

I've written about a number of health issues I've faced with such long, repeated, immersions across the full spectrum of human accessible depths - infection, possible CO poisoning, CO2 issues, HPNS, wet breathing (pulmonary stress), severe fungus issues (yum),  and the list goes on. Day by day however, there are just a few things that get you almost every time - bumps, bruises, and the bends.

Bumps and bruises comes with using yourself as a tool to carry out that work requiring brute force. In a weightless environment, it is easy to reposition yourself at almost any angle imaginable to apply force, leverage, torque, and so on to a tool or structure. These contortions were allot easier ten years ago, but remain a critical part of the job. It's not uncommon to go home with various bumps and bruises from just plain hard work.

Bends on the other hand is something we do our absolute best to avoid at all costs. The absorption of inert gas into our tissues under pressure, then being released as we ascend causes tissue stress. These downs and ups, or pressurization and depressurization, can wreak havoc even on very hard tissues like bone. While diving is both depth and time dependent due to these inert gas absorption issues, one area we know so very little about is extremely long exposures in very shallow water (low pressure) that is not indicated ona  dive table. In fact, dive tables don't even start until 40 feet of depth! What about those first 40 feet?

While I've made some epic dives to almost 500 feet of depth for exploratory purposes, the vast majority of my working dives are in 20 feet of water or less. Many might say 'no big deal'. But the challenge comes with two areas - the exposure at depth can often exceed 6 or 7 hours a day, and can occur for days on end, and second is the frequent ascents and descents often made to do things like grab a tool from the surface, or communicate. I tend to believe that these numerous ups and downs are just as bad for you, if not worse that a single lengthy exposure, even pushing published decompression limits.

While I cannot say for certain that I have been bent, I can say that the effects of nitrogen have been hard felt on several occasions. Fatigue is one sign of decompression sickness (DCS), though could also be a symptom of the bumps and bruises. Severe, almost crippling arthritic pain in my hands could also be a sign of DCS, though could also be attributed to the bumps and bruises, or even crippling cold water.

If and when we take to the sea more permanently, I'll recall these long shallow exposures well, and will do everything possible to mitigate the risks with shallow water DCS. This could come by way of altering breathing gas, or - let's think ahead a bit - perhaps we'll find some means of altering our physiology such that we do not absorb inert gas under pressure, or perhaps we find some new gas that can't be absorbed.

It all may sound like voodoo science right now, but so was nitrox 30 years ago, and rebreathers 20 years ago. In the big picture, we've only just broken the surface in understanding where our limits are in this journey to a new life in the sea.


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Wednesday, May 15, 2013

human ocean exploration - why bother?

'A New Life in the Sea' by Michael LombardiThose of us who work and play out there on the edge - be it physically or intellectually - fully appreciate the challenge in self-motivation. There is often no 'competiton' per se to drive us along. Our mission comes from within, and we must do all we can to challenge ourselves and make progress. When a good idea comes about, we teach it how to crawl. When it finally grows some legs of is own, we hold its hand and take it for the run towards mainstream acceptance. Every now and again - we run out of steam. It happens, and it has to be dealt with.

My tendency to run out of steam comes from a decision I made more than ten years ago - I made the very conscious decision to NOT pursue a career in academia in exchange for this life aquatic. I made that decision because I saw something in the experience of venturing to a new ocean frontier, and realized there was a mission that needed to be met. I am fortunate to have had that opportunity...a 'moment' if you will.

 I realized in that brief moment that to take human intervention to a new frontier in the ocean, the diving had to come first - not the science. That was something my family, peers, and scientist friends have choked on for every second of this last decade. In fact, I've been plainly asked...

WHY BOTHER?

For the serial entrepreneur, we bother because that's what we're engineered to do. We have no choice. I explain this in a bit more detail in my book entitled 'Black Beans, Mean Business'. Though, it goes without saying that doing something different is always viewed as a stray from mass conformity, and that effort is often skeptically met...time after time, after time, after time. It is easy to be occasionally beat down, and struggle with oneself to find value in what you've spent your entire life doing. I go through it all the time, and for reasons unknown, I am going through it now.

The choice I made to follow the life aquatic, rather than the academic route is because frankly, there is no existing academic path to follow that would provide the body of knowledge coupled with this degree of field immersion that would have left me expert enough to do the exploration work I am doing. The body of work needs to be created, and perhaps in time, it will find a home in an academic context so that the next guy has a path to follow. I have taken this perspective so far as to have been offered academic positrons in peripherally related areas of interest, only to turn them down because it would mean not staying focused on the bigger picture to the extent necessary.

So, as a 'blue' collar tradesman of the water world by day, I refocus energies at night to write about these aquatic experiences, design and fabricate new tools to make my day job more efficient, and take steps toward developing projects and programs that illustrate why humans need to take steps towards a new life in the sea, and document everything with data to back it up - basically the life of an academic; how ironic.

Without an institutional home, a Phd in something (anything!), or an administration to float my work, I've experienced both benefits and setbacks in my mission. The setbacks are obvious and all revolve around the uphill battle to distinguish my work within circles of relatively high intellectual capacity - where funders lurk about. The benefits is of course being able to self-direct my pursuit, ever-evolving a body of work that helps attract some visibility and the bits and pieces of support to keep moving forward. The latter however, comes with occasionally running out of steam.

Perhaps after 30 or 40 years, the cumulative sum of academic field experiences may have afforded me the same place as I stand (or swim) today. In reality however, I am in the water nearly every single day, spending hours upon hours in an environment that is foreign to even many of those who extract a living from its resources, the resulting industries, and fields of study. The need for this level of immersion is why I felt the need to stray away from the convention.

I believe, to this day, that to take human intervention of our oceans to new depths (excuse the play on words), an entirely new worldly body of knowledge needs to be extracted from the limited undersea experiences that we humans have had. Indeed, doors have been opened, but in practice, we have not yet taken steps through those doors...not even close.

I can say with great certainty that while I am challenged by my contemporaries, critics, and even question myself from time to time, the life experience that has come with full and total immersion into diving cannot be re-created. Beyond the equipment, the physics, the physiology - all of the knowns of operating in two dimensions  - there lies another dimension that was only discovered through realizing two things - aptitude and composure. I have written about those two things previously, and they stand true to every test I've had in operating underwater. These come only with time in the water; and massive amounts of it at that.

Experiencing ocean space with the aptitude earned after a serious decade of immersion in the field changes everything. Experiencing not just depth and time, but also space, with great composure allows the diver to accomplish the unimaginable and realize a sense of human worth in pursuing something much greater than we have here on land - in the ocean.

Why bother? For the few out there that have had the calling, share that experience. For humans to evolve in to our Blue Planet, the masses need to not just understand, but feel he experience for themselves. The constant push to deliver results and products is a means to quantify a process, but we cannot lose site of that process. It is the human experience through the passage of time that steers and directs those deliverables. That body of work within the undersea realm lies there for the taking, and that's why I bother.
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Friday, May 10, 2013

the lion's mane

'A New Life in the Sea' by Michael Lombardi Just as the excitement of milder, but stll very clear, New England waters kickstarts the spring diving season (yes, finally wet suit time!), we're faced with yet another hazard - lion's mane jellyfish.

Over a decade ago, I believe in 1999 or 2000, Rhode Island waters were heavily infested with these jellies. They were here by the thousands. Every time I would turn around, I'd be dodging either the jelly itself, or the long trail of tentacles it uses to fish for prey. This year is not quite as bad as I recall that one season, but they are here in force right now. Just two days ago, I had to time my entry into the water from a pier so as to dodge the swarm. once in the water, I would constantly fan out in front of me to make a small current that would keep them away.

Lion's mane jellyfish
Lion's mane jellyfish (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I've written about a number of critters here on 'a New Life' that I've had unfavorable encounters with, or at least creep me out - the American eel, the archaic horseshoe crab, sharks - but these lion's mane take the prize. In terms of marine life aggression, they are as benign as can be, simply floating along in a near perfectly neutral state lazily going wherever the tide takes them. But they are passively fierce. Their sting is terrible, and despite being covered head to toe in neoprene, their tentacles find a way of finding what little exposed skin there is - usually your lips - and leave a trail of pain. I've gone full summers trying to shake the burn left on my wrists from wearing only a light pair of gloves and getting repeatedly stung as I'm working inshore.

Despite being among the underwater nasties, they truly are beautiful animals. All jellies, in fact, are like something out of a sci-fi movie. So primitive, yet clearly doing something right to have lived through so many planetary evolutions, and keep on keeping on.

So, my jellyfish advice - admire from a distance, but admire indeed.
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