Tales from the Logbook--A Mom Goes Adrift at Cocos Island

 

I am preparing a series of stories of people who find themselves adrift in the water.  The first story comes from an incident that occured in August 2002 whlile I was on the live aboard diveboat, the Undersea Hunter, in August 2002.  It is purely coincidental that this story appears on Mother's Day 2024.

To say that Cocos Island, Costa Rica, in the Pacific Ocean, is "isolated" is an understatement.  The island, designated  Cocos Island National Park, lies approximately 340 miles southwest of the Costa Rican mainland.  “Middle of nowhere” barely begins to describe this location. Just getting to the island required a 30+ hour boat ride from Punta Arenas on board Undersea Hunter—a top live-aboard dive boat.  I was traveling with a group organized by Brandon and Melissa Cole.  Our group claimed many of the available spaces on the boat; others took the rest.

I had prepared for the remoteness of the location by incorporating into my dive gear, in addition to the whistle permanently affixed to my buoyancy compensator, an extremely loud surface signaling device powered by the compressed air (from my tank), a bright green surface marker buoy, a flashing strobe light and a signal mirror.  I had considered a bright green dye marker pack, but the container could not sustain the pressure of deep water immersion without hemorrhaging the dye.

Diving Safety Briefing

The first predive briefing of the trip, held prior to our first dive, emphasized the conservation orientation of the operators at Cocos Island and what a privilege it was to dive in this unique marine wilderness.  (Only park personnel and scientific researchers are allowed on shore.) The “boat rules” include no intentional interaction with the fish, no feeding of fish, no manta riding, and no pulling the shark’s tail.  One would think these rules need not be explicitly stated given the conservation ethic of diving.  My observation of diver behaviors over the years is to the contrary.  When in doubt, point it out.

The second half of the briefing emphasized safety and the need to follow the diving protocols.  Divers were directed not to exceed the 130 foot depth limit.  The briefer noted that divers were responsible for knowing and not exceeding their individual “no decompression limits.  Other protocols emphasized the need to maintain visual contact with the underwater walls.  Also, since the dive spots are fairly deep, the divemaster highlighted the need to complete the safety stop for three minutes between 15 and 20 feet during ascent with one exception.

“No blue water diving!” the divemaster stressed. “If you cannot see the wall or if you are in a strong current; do not do the three-minute safety stop! Surface immediately,  inflate your bc and marker buoy and the tender will pick you up.  The current will carry you away from the island and the nearest landfall Is Antarctica.”  It is a lesson we learned later that day.

The Second Dive

Our second dive ended as a cautionary tale about diving in the current.  We planned to drop in on the southwest side of Isla Manuelita, and descend as a group along the step down slope to between 60 and 100 feet, while moving north.  The orientation to do that is to keep the wall on the right hand side. We would round the end of the islet and be picked up on the northeast side.

 

After a routine descent, the divers wedged themselves into a ledge along the wall to await the appearance of hammerhead sharks.  I ascended a bit to address an issue and found myself surrounded by fish.  I could not get back to the main part of the group as I was up current of their location. Rather than fight against the current, I continued the dive.  I had done a number of drift dives over the years so I was comfortable doing so.  The current pushed me along the wall.   I am able to maintain visual contact with the wall.  I start my ascent upon reaching my “low air” tank pressure of 700 psi. After completing the three-minute safety stop, I surface.  The panga motored over to retrieve me, as the current kept me from swimming to it.  I am the first one on board. 

Mom goes adrifting

The group had spread out along the wall, with the photographers bringing up the rear.  As the panga retrieved the divers, a diver returned onboard without her buddy.  The buddy pair, a mother-daughter duo, is missing the mom.  The daughter reports that they were in a current as they ascended.  The mom was carried out into blue water and continued with the safety stop while the daughter surfaced.  She did not see her mother surface. 

A search immediately commenced.  We cruised along the current line looking for any sign of the diver, but we found nothing.  Visibility decreased as a squall line moved into the area.  The divemaster’s initial look of optimism at finding her quickly changed to one of consternation.  He alerts the mothership by radio to dispatch the second panga to join the search as soon as their divers are recovered.  The Park Ranger from the island joined the effort from his skiff. 

Time passed.  All eyes on our panga desperately scan the water for a sign of the diver.  We searched for what seems like an eternity moving back and forth along the current line.  Suddenly, the radio sounded.  The other tender reports they have recovered the diver on the surface.  We race over to their location, relieved that the mother is OK. 

Back on board the Undersea Hunter, the divemaster asked the mother what happened.  She replied, “since it was a deep dive, I felt making the safety stop for the three full minutes was very important.”  She insisted that nothing was wrong, seemed unfazed by the whole experience and appeared oblivious to how close she came to going missing.  After a discussion that focused on the critical importance of directly surfacing when in blue water, the incident is closed.  But, the lesson stayed with us for the rest of the dives.