Tales from the Logbook--Certified as a Diver 40 Years Ago Today

Fourty years ago today, July 27, 1984, my instructor lined me up along the rail of the dive boat, and with a Polaroid camera took the picture that would be mounted on my certification card.  Mine shows a wet haired, grinning diver.  Four decades later. the picture is faded and the card is delaminating.  I have retired it from "active" identification for proving certification.  It is hard to believe that I was once that neophyte diver at East Fish Camp on Anacapa Island.  

We completed the written test and skills check on the last night of class.  Everyone passed the tests!  Dave told us we needed to pick up our gear at the dive shop on Thursday afternoon before the shop closed and to be at the Sea Ventures dive boat in Port Hueneme harbor by 7:30 a.m. at the latest on Friday.  “The boat will leave without you so don’t be late.”

After the last pool session, many of us met up at Pizza Bob’s on Embarcadero Del Norte in Isla Vista.  We sat on the picnic tables and ordered pitchers of beer and pizza to celebrate completing the class work.  We couldn’t stay too long.  County alcohol regulations required all alcohol service to end promptly at mid-night in Isla Vista.  The bar staff would swoop in an clear the tables as the clock was striking twelve.  A few year’s later, Dennis Divins the UCSB Diving Safety Officer and his wife Sherri purchased the restaurant and continued to operate it until Dennis retired in the early 2000’s.  We used to joke that he didn’t rename the place because “Pizza Dennis” just did not have the same ring to it as “Pizza Bob’s.”

I do recall that I expereinced some apprehension about doing my ocean dives and briefly considered not showing up for the boat.  I just as quickly dismissed that idea as stupid.

Mike, his girlfriend, Sue, and I shared a ride.  I picked up those two in Isla Vista early enough to ensure we would make it to Port Hueneme in plenty of time.  With three people and three sets of gear my "fiesta orange" Ponitac Astre compact was a bit cramped.  Despite making a detour into Channel Islands Harbor (Oxnard) before being redirected to the adjacent Port Hueneme, we made the boat in plenty of time.

I asked Mike if he was any relation to General Claire Lee Chennault who had started the Flying Tigers in China just prior to America’s entry into World War II.  Mike said that he was a distant relative, but one that the family talked about.  Sue said, “Jim, only you would think to ask that question.”  Once an aviation nerd, always an aviation nerd.

Sea Ventures had a unique configuration as it had equipment compartments that extended beyond the outside rail of the boat.  We stowed our gear in the bins and set our tanks into slots behind the benches that ran down either side of the boat.  Each dive tank station was assigned a number.  We were given masking tape to place on the top of our tank and write the station number on it.  We became that number using it to charge for beverages, food and air fills, and to check in and out of the water with the dive master. 

With all the gear stowed we headed out of port for Anacapa Island.  Leaving port we passed decommissioned U.S. Navy destroyers awaiting their fate as target ships for weapons testing conducted in the Pacific Missile Test Range and shore based installations of the Port Hueneme Construction Battalion (Seabee) Base on the west side of the port.

I must have fidgeted all the way to our first dive spot, East Fish Camp.  A certain ‘what am I doing here, I shoulda stayed home’ feeling had come over me earlier that morning.  I sometimes wonder if I might have bailed on the day had I not promised to give others a ride to the boat.  I can’t explain the origin of the mood.  It wasn’t a fear of failure; I had done fine through all the training and exercises.  It wasn’t apprehension over the boat trip; the trip a few years earlier to San Miguel Island and subsequent aquatic activity provided a certain comfort. 

We motored slowly across the Channel.  Slow motoring was the only speed that Sea Ventures understood.  She was designed to haul divers cheaply, not quickly.  The joke was that dolphins didn’t swim in the bow wave because they got bored.  If you didn’t like the speed at which the boat moved, you sure would not like the alternative.

Captain Mickey, Michael De Fazio, was one of the most laid back skippers I recall, always with a smile and a wry sense of humor.  He disappeared into the wheelhouse, only to reappear to help the divers and fill tanks once we anchored.  Underway, the deck fell under the purview of his deckhand/divemaster who seemed to be constantly checking something.

The trip over was uneventful.  We anchored at East Fish Camp on the backside (southside) of middle Anacapa Island.  We geared up and entered the water for our first dive.  We approached the starboard gate, gave our number to the dive master, inflated our b.c., put our regulator in our mouth, held on to our mask with one hand and covered our weight belt with the other, just as we had been taught.  The dive master checked that our tank valve was fully opened, checked our pressure gage to make sure the tank was full, and told us “check the area below the boat, and if it is clear, do a giant stride into the water.”  If I had not been so busy sweating the details I would have been impressed with the safety of the operation.

The First Dive

Looking down and not seeing any diver beneath the gate, I jumped into space.  I hit with a splash, sank a few feet, and immediately popped to the surface thanks to the air filled b.c.   We gathered on the surface at the anchor line and started our descent as a group. 

I let the air out of the b.c. grabbed the line and started pulling myself down the rope hand-over-hand. I got about half way and couldn’t make any headway.  I really tried to get to the bottom.  I just seemed suspended mid water column.  I half rolled and started down head first kicking furiously to get to the bottom.  Steve, the assistant instructor, came up to me, signaled me to stop, and then motioned for me to vent more air through the b.c. inflator hose.  That did the trick and I sank to the bottom. 

Once established on the bottom in about 35 feet of water, I set the index on my Seiko dive watch bezel so the index mark was opposite the minute hand.  This setting would make it easy for me to determine at any point in the dive how long I had been underwater.  The length of the dive was defined, in those days, as the end of descent to the beginning of ascent. 

The first dive was a tour around the area. We started swimming in a line, two-by-two, I about 25 feet of water.  The bottom was rocky and flat with strands of kelp and a lot of urchins.  I was in the middle of the group alongside my buddy.  Dave led the group, stopping to point things out as we went along.    Steve lingered slightly above and at the rear of the group.  At one stop, he cracked open an urchin which quickly attracted a scrum of fish that fed on the exposed innards.  The most noticeable fish was the bright orange Garibaldi. 

As we moved along, I felt like I was drifting up.  I stopped and tried to vent more air from the b.c. but only a trickle came out.  I seemed to bounce up and down during the entire dive, often positioned well above the group.

Twenty five minutes into the dive, Dave stopped, gathered us around, As hed had done a couple of times during the dive, he signaled each of us to indicate that were “OK”  with by responding with the same signal, index finger on thumb the three fingers extended.  He then pointed to each diver, held up his left palm, and made a clockwise motion across it with his right index finger.  This was the signal for “how much air do you have?”  We responded by holding up the number of fingers that corresponded to the reading on our pressure gage.  During the class Dave had emphasized “you should always know your remaining air pressure within 100 psi.  You need to get into the habit of checking your air often.”

The dive plan called for us to surface when the first diver reached 700 p.s.i. tank pressure so we would return to the boat with at least 500 p.s.i.  One of the diver’s had a bit less showing, so Dave held both thumbs up and motioned toward the surface, our signal to ascend. 

We had been taught to ascend at I foot per second, or no faster than your smallest exhaled bubble.  We rose slowly.  Breaking the surface, we inflated our b.c.’s and returned to the boat.

As I filled our my first log book entry, I noted that I had started with 3,000 psi and returned to the boat with 700 p.s.i.  From my dive watch, I could see that I had 25 minutes of bottom time. I calculated that I was in repetitive group “C” from the dive table.  Visibility was about 20 feet-a number that we arrived at through consensus.  Nobody really knew.   It could have been more; accurately estimating visibility is a skill that comes from multiple dives.  The notes of my dive are cryptically short.  “TROUBLE WITH NEGATIVE BUOYANCY.  MUST GO VERTICAL TO DUMP BC.  This being my first dive, the Total Hours  to Date, Total Hours this Dive, and Accumulated Dive Hours all indicate “25.’”

The Second Dive

The entry and descent on this dive was a repeat of that followed for the first.  We moved shallower and entered a small kelp bed, proceeding through it single file.  Diving in kelp is one of the aspects that defines California diving, knowing how to move through it without getting entangled is an essential skill.  For all the non-divers who describe a drowning as “the body being wrapped in kelp” I half expected to see skeletons handing from the strands.   East Fish Camp did not have the rich, thick kelp beds that other sites had.  The kelp forest up and down the coast had been heavily damaged in the El Nino storms in the Winter of 82/83 and had not yet come back to their full thickness.   

The rest of the dive was spent demonstrating skills such as buddy breathing from the alternate air source or the second “octopus” regulator each diver carried for our buddy as a precaution against an out of air situation.  We also practiced buddy breathing as if the diver donating air did not have an octopus regulator. Finally, we each had to demonstrate an simulated emergency swimming ascents—a dash to the surface when a buddy isn’t around and you are out of air.  At several points in the class, Dave emphasized that “this is a situation that should never occur.  Your buddy should never be that far away and you should always know how much air you have remaining.”[1] 

The instructor watched that we were blowing bubbles during buddy breathing anytime we passed the regulator back and forth or during the emergency swimming ascent simulation.  In a real out of air situation that required an emergency ascent we were instructed to remove and drop our weight belt, keep our regulator in our mouth, look up and kick rapidly to the surface, exhaling all the way.  To many of us in the class, this seemed counter-intuitive.  If a diver is out of air, why would he exhale the air in his lungs?  As we learned, the air in the lungs expands with the decreasing external pressure during ascent.   Constant exhalation minimizes the chance that air is trapped in the lungs causing a lung overexpansion that causes a nearly always fatal air embolism.

The dive was a little shorter this time, with 20 minutes of bottom time.  I had started the dive with a 2600 psi air fill which was the best that the tank fill system on board could do under the circumstances. 

Back on board, Dave and Steve congratulated us on completing the dives.  My log book entry concludes, “I’m now certified.”

The Third Dive

“You are all certified divers,” Dave announced.  “Go have some fun if you want to make another dive.  Just remember, you are now on your own.”

Not everyone wanted to make a third dive.  Mike, Sue and I buddied up.  We decided that as a trio, I  would buddy with Mike and Mike would buddy with Sue. Mike was the lynchpin and middle diver.  That way we knew who was looking after who.

The air fill for the third dive was even lower than for the second, 2500 psi.  The tank was only about 80 percent full so our bottom time would be shorter.  We did a 30 minute dive, exploring the kelp and checking out the fish.  We stayed shallower on this dive, about 20 feet average, which may account for our decent bottom time despite a “short fill” on the tank.  I did note in the dive log that “I am still sucking too much air” meaning that I needed to control my rate of breathing.

Dave assured me that my air consumption, that is my rate of air use, would get longer if I continued to dive.  He assured me that with the excitement and tension, many new divers had breathed rapidly.  But that a normal breathing rate could be expected as the new experience became more familiar.  He also pointed out that taking deep, more frequent breaths, was contributing to my buoyancy problem. 

“You have a built in bc with your lungs.  Next time you feel that you can’t get to the bottom after your have dumped the air in your b.c., try exhaling all the way.  I think you will drop like a rock when you do.”

As we head back in, I contemplate the three dives and the one hour and fifteen minutes listed in my log as the Accumulated Dive Hours.  I am tired, a little sunburned, and pretty sure that my I will be diving again, inspite of my bucket list intention.

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[1] Divers learned both alternate air source and single regulator buddy breathing.  In the early 1980s, many divers only carried a single regulator.  The number of divers outfitted with alternate air source (octopus) regulators was increasingly common. While regulators used in classes needed to be configured with an alternate air source, rental regulators did not.  I recall being offered a regulator without an octopus when I needed equipment for a post certification dive, despite my certification card stating that I must have an alternate air source.  I discovered that this was a non-enforceable requirement, that is, a suggestion.  A certified diver has no limitation other than those required by their own good sense.  Many divers observed that an octopus regulator was the one piece of equipment that a diver carried not for themselves, but for their buddy.  Because the regulator was viewed as a “backup”

Tales from the Logbook--The Ocean Skin Dive

We met at Hendry’s Beach (also known as Arroyo Burro beach) on a Saturday morning to complete a skin dive--the first of the required three ocean dives.  The gearing up was a bit more complicated than at the pool because for the first time we entered the water wearing the wetsuit and weight belt.  We geared up on the beach, walked to the damp sand and put on our fins.

Dave emphasized the importance of shuffling backward while wearing the fins into the water.  He cautioned us to always be aware of the size and timing of the waves.

“You do not want to be caught in breaking surf, you could get knocked down and hurt,” he warned. “Either get through the surf quickly or exit and wait for the next lull in the waves.  Once you commit to entering, do not dawdle.” 

Shuffling backward in fins with gear on is a skill we had practiced on the pool deck.  It is completely different in the ocean environment.  But, we all managed to get through the light surf with no major problems.

Steve brought a dive buoy, essentially an inner tube with a canvass cover with a dive flag and anchor attached.  After he secured the anchor on the bottom, this buoy became our support and rendezvous point. 

We all gathered around the buoy.  Dave immediately brought our attention to a pod of approaching dolphins.  The circled two or three times below the group before taking off for parts unknown.  They may not have found us to be all that interesting but the class was shouting with delight.  If this was what we experienced on our first practice session in the ocean, imagine what real dives would be like!

At the buoy, Dave checked make sure we were correctly weighted for neutral buoyance.  One at a time, he had us grab the bouy, get vertical in the water, release all the air from our b.c., and exhale completely.  If we sunk to eye level, we were neutrally buoyant.  Based on the result of the test, Dave would tell us to add or subtract whatever weight we needed to achieve neutral buoyancy.  If a diver was underweight, Dave would add the place the trim weight in the b.c.’s pocket from extra weights he had placed in the float.  If a diver was overweight, they would need to remove that weight from the belt for the ocean scuba dives.

Most of the divers were weighted correctly or needed a marginal correction of a pound or two.

In our briefings, Dave had told us that the signal for “I’m OK” was the hands clasped in a semicircle over our heads.  The signal for “I need help” or “something’s wrong” was waving one or both arms overhead.

One diver felt queasy in the swell and started waving his hand to get Dave’s attention.  Almost immediately the County ocean lifeguard on duty started to respond.  Dave was able to wave him off before he got to the water’s edge. Dave was not too happy with the diver who started apologizing profusely.

Properly weighted, we moved on to the skin dive.  Dave directed each of us to do a pike or feet-first surface dive to get below the surface, equalize as we descended to the bottom, grab a hand full of sand and return to the surface.  We repeated the exercise until we had each brought a handful of sand to the surface clutching it as if was sunken treasure. 

With the exercise completed, we headed back into the beach, reversing the technique that we had been taught to enter, ever mindful of the waves.  

One nice feature about the beach in that era was the showers thatwecould use to wash off the salt water and sand off ourselves and our gear.  While we throughly rinsed everything back at the shop, it was nice to get a head start with the fresh water rinse,  Additional ammeninites included plentiful parking and a resturant with outdoor seating.  

Tales from the Logbook--First Time on Scuba

I remember my first experience underwater like happened yesterday.  

In the lecture that evening, we discussed the design and use of the equipment.  Dave introduced Steve McCollugh, an assistant instructor who would be helping out with the class.

Dave had us meet at an equipment locker just outside the UCSB swimming pool where he issued each of  us the b.c., regulator, and tank that we would use for our first pool session.  Someone asked about weights.  Dave said we would get the weight belt and weights on deck for now. 

“In the pool, you may not need weights and if you do it will be a fraction of what you need for the ocean dives.  Since you are not wearing wetsuits tonight, the weight of the scuba rig should be enough to make you ‘negative’.”

I was discovering that scuba, like flying, had its own acronyms, slang and jargon.  I guessed correctly that “negative” meant “weighted so as to sink.” In fact, “scuba” is an acronym for “self-contained underwater breathing apparatus.”

We toted our gear up on the pool deck.  

“Gather around me and I will show you how to assemble the gear," Dave said. Then you can put together your own rig.  But, never leave a tank standing up unattended.  So lay you tanks on their side before you come over.”

He led us through the step-by-step set up of the bc, tank, and regulator.  First, we attached the b.c. to the tank. 

“Make sure the hole on the valve is facing the back of the b.c., then loosen the tank strap, slide it over the b.c. so the top of the b.c. is about the same level as where the tank valve attaches to the tank.  Then tighten the tank strap until it is snug but not real tight.”

He then took the tank strap buckle and cinched it down by rotating the buckle.  “The buckle is used as a cam to securely tighten the strap,” he explained.

He then showed us how to attach the regulator to the tank by slipping the regulator’s yolk over the tank valve. “Stand behind the tank and hold the regulator’s first stage so the second stage and octopus hoses are on the right side of the tank and the power inflator and pressure gage hose are on the left side. Slide the first stage over the valve.  When you feel the tank valve orifice mate with the first stage line up the yolk screw with the dimple on the back of the valve and tighten the yolk screw finger tight only.  Do not ‘crank down’ on the yolk screw.”

He held the pressure gage against the base of the tank and cautioned us to always do so.  “Do not look at the gage as you open the tank valve.  If the gage is faulty, it could shatter the glass face of the gage.  Instead, hold the gage face against the tank as you open the valve.”

Dave cracked opened the tank valve.  There was a brief “pffft” and the hoses became rigid as they filled with air.  He then opened the tank valve all the way.  Only then did he check the pressure gage.

“This is an aluminum, 80-cubic-foot air tank.  That is about the volume of air that is inside a phone booth.  We have to compress the air to get it into the tank.  Anyone remember what the pressure gage will read if the tank is full?”

We just kind of looked at each other.  Someone tentatively offered up “3,000 p.s.i.?”

“That’s right” Dave responded.  “It may have less but it should have no more than 3,000 p.s.i.  How would you know that?”

“The maximum pressure is stamped on the top of the tank?” the same person responded.

“That’s right.” Dave confirmed.

He then closed the valve and called me over.

“Jim, try unscrewing the regulator.” 

I walked over, placed my right hand on the black yolk screw cap and tried turning it.  It would not budge. I tightened my grip and tried again.  It still would not move. Dave then hit the purge valve on the front of the second stage.  The air hissed out lines and the hoses went limp. 

“Now try it.”

It easily turned.

“Had I really cranked the yolk screw when I first put on the regulator, Jim probably would not have been able to unscrew it just now without using channel lock pliers.  O.K. pair up with a buddy and practice putting everything together.  Spread out, do it a few times each, and help each other out.”

Dave and Steve moved from group to group.  Chuckles would result when someone realized that had the hoses on the wrong side of the rig.  After about 15 minutes Dave was satisfied that we were familiar with assembling and taking apart the gear.  He then directed us to lay our assembled rigs on their side put on our mask, fins, and snorkel and line up along the edge of the pool. 

Steve demonstrated the giant stride entry into the water as Dave pointed out the finer points of the technique.  He then demonstrated the feet first and head first descents to get to the bottom of the pool, equalizing his ears with the increasing depth by pinching his nose, closing the mouth and breathing out in what Dave called the “valsalva maneuver.”

“Sounds like a tactic the Enterprise would use in battle against the Klingons,” my buddy Mike Chennault joked.

Next thing I knew, we were in the water practicing the techniques.  Bursts of water erupted as snorkels got cleared as the ascending diver broke the surface.  We also practiced flutter and frog kicks as we moved along the bottom of the pool.  After about 20 minutes, Dave had us crawl out and stand next to our assembled rigs in the end of the pool.  He showed us the correct way for the buddy to lift the rig and assist the diver into the gear.

“It is good practice for the biggest person in the pair to gear up first.  That way the smaller diver isn’t being weighed down as they lift the tank for the larger diver.”  Looking around at the other students I would always be the one to gear up first no matter who teamed with me.

Mike helped me into my rig.  I could feel the weight of it on my shoulders when he let go of the tank.  I then did the same for him

We lined up on the edge of the pool fully geared for entry.  With everyone breathing on their regulators the mechanical inhalation and exhalation made the pool deck sound like a Darth Vader convocation.  With  b.c.’s inflated, each diver did a giant stride entry into the water. When I hit the water I baely penetrated the surface because of the b.c.  We then swam on the surface to the shallow end of the pool.

Dave then had us vent the air from our b.c.’s and kneel down so our heads were just under the water.  My head submerged but I was breathing!  The two instructors checked that everyone was comfortable.  Dave then signaled that we should stay with our buddy and swim around the shallow end of the pool.  Mike and I swam away side-by-side.  It was a paradoxical feeling.  At one moment, I am ecstatic that I am breathing as I swim underwater and then am perplexed because I am breathing as I swim underwater. The wonder of that moment is one I often fondly recall.  There is nothing quite like it in the world.

At the end of the 90 minute session we carried our gear to the locker room showers and rinsed and disassembled the gear.  We then met Dave and Steve at the storage closet to deposit our gear.  Animated conversations among the group confirmed that everyone had a great experience and couldn’t wait for the next session.

Our sessions continued pretty much as Dave outlined in our first class.  In the classroom we discussed ever more complex concepts including the various gas laws regarding partial pressure that affect divers, Charles’ Law, Boyle’s Law, and so on.  I thought I had left these well behind me when I took the one-year physics course in college, twice since I loved it so much and did so well in it the first go around.  We struggled through the puzzle of using the plastic tables to compute our residual nitrogen time, actual bottom time, and total bottom time.  I understood that these exercises were important.  Dave emphasized that we needed to know how to calculate these values, which represented the amount of nitrogen gas saturated our bodily tissue, so we would not exceed the no decompression limit time for each dive.

He had us calculate the values under a number of scenarios and then asked, “is this a safe dive and why?”  If the “total bottom time” we calculated was less than the “no decompression limit” the correct answer was “yes, because we are within the limits for no getting the bends.”

It was not a trick question.  Dave noted that divers had gotten decompression sickness or “the bends” even though the tables indicated they were within limits.  The takeaway lesson was “don’t push the limits.”

Similarly in the pool we practiced progressively more complex skills such as mask flooding and clearing, mask removal and replacement, weight belt removal and replacement, buddy breathing, and simulated emergency swimming ascents.  With each skill we gained confidence in our abilities.  But, doing these in a pool is one thing, doing them in the ocean is another.

Making Progress

Our sessions continued pretty much as Dave outlined in our first class.  In the classroom we discussed ever more complex concepts including the various gas laws regarding partial pressure that affect divers, Charles’ Law, Boyle’s Law, and so on.  I thought I had left these well behind me when I took the one-year physics course in college, twice since I loved it so much and did so well in it the first go around.  We struggled through the puzzle of using the plastic tables to compute our residual nitrogen time, actual bottom time, and total bottom time.  I understood that these exercises were important.  Dave emphasized that we needed to know how to calculate these values, which represented the amount of nitrogen gas saturated our bodily tissue, so we would not exceed the no decompression limit time for each dive.

He had us calculate the values under a number of scenarios and then asked, “is this a safe dive and why?”  If the “total bottom time” we calculated was less than the “no decompression limit” the correct answer was “yes, because we are within the limits for no getting the bends.”

It was not a trick question.  Dave noted that divers had gotten decompression sickness or “the bends” even though the tables indicated they were within limits.  The takeaway lesson was “don’t push the limits.”

Similarly in the pool we practiced progressively more complex skills such as mask flooding and clearing, mask removal and replacement, weight belt removal and replacement, buddy breathing, and simulated emergency swimming ascents.  With each skill we gained confidence in our abilities.  But, doing these in a pool is one thing, doing them in the ocean is another.

Post Session Activities

A couple times after class I would not go directly home, but would head into downtown Goleta to listen to rock music at Pat’s Grass Shack—a small side street bar south of Hollister Avenue.[1]  The Shack had a kitschy Polynesian décor and catered mostly to rock and roll bands.  During the week it featured “open mike” experience to local bands.  No pay, but it gave local musicians a place to perform.  My brother Bob played a couple of songs there one night.

I worked with at Delco with Greg Brallier, one of the band members in “The Duck Club” which would soon be relaunched as the “Five Cool What” before morphing into “The Volcanoes,“Pat, Fin, and Greg” and finally “The Tearaways.”[2][3][4]  I stopped in a few times to listen to them play.  I still have one of their cassette tapes.  I listen to it when I lose radio reception around Turnagain Pass as I drive the highway to dive at the Alaska Sealife Center in Seward.

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[1] See “A Farewell to the Shack” by Fear Heiple.  In the Isla Vista Free Press, April 27 to May 3, 1988, p. 4    https://www.library.ucsb.edu/sites/default/files/attachments/special-collections/ research/ ivweb/ ivFP/FreePress_4_27_88.pdf accessed on March 20, 2023.

[2] See S.B. Tearaways Morph into Badfinger.  Santa Barbara Independent.  June 21, 2009. https://www.independent.com/2009/06/21/s-b-s-tearaways-morph-into-badfinger/ accessed on March 20, 2023.

[3] Identifying Your Big Break - Sometimes A Field Goal Is OK.  John Greathouse.  Forbes. May 19, 2012.  https://www.forbes.com/sites/johngreathouse/2012/05/19/identifying-your-big-break-sometimes-a-field-goal-is-ok/?sh=4502d5124012 accessed on March 20, 2023

[4] Where Were You in ‘82? An Oral History of Santa Barbara Clubland’s Age of Enlightenment.  Jeff Wing.  February 8, 2017.  Linked In.  https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/where-were-you-82-oral-history-santa-barbara-clublands-jeff-wing-2/ accessed March 20, 2023

Tales from the Logbook--I Buy My First Dive Gear

 

With my instructor’s sense of urgency that we get properly outfitted for the next class fresh in my mind, I drove by Santa Barbara Aquatics the next day to get fitted for gear and to look at the personal gear.  Independence Day was Saturday and the shop would be closed the entire weekend.

Santa Barbara Aquatics was tucked away in the middle of a small, non-descript office park on Hollister Avenue sandwiched between an apartment building and KTYD--the local FM rock radio station.  Every corner of the small store seemed to hold an assortment of equipment and accessories whose purpose I could only guess.  A glass case held an assortment of regulators, gages, and lights.  Wetsuits hung along one side of the store, the smell from the neoprene permeated the place.  I took it all in.  I must have looked like a kid staring at the wrapped gifts under the tree on Christmas morning. 

Patti, co-owner of the store with her husband, greeted me.  I mentioned that I was with the UCSB class and needed to get fitted for a wetsuit and buoyancy compensator.  “I already have a good mask and snorkel, but need to look at fins, booties, gloves and a knife.”   (As shown in the graphic, each diver needs to provide personal gear (items circled in blue.  The shop was taking measurements for the items in yellow, the wetsuit and buoyancy compensator device or "bcd".)

Patti was very helpful.  I filled out the required forms while she disappeared into the back of the store, returning with a blue and grey two-piece, extra-large wetsuit with US DIVERS stenciled on one arm and an XL2 marked on the shoulder. 

I had only worn a “shorty” wetsuit when sailboarding.  Even then, the first time I tried on a back zip shorty at home I put it on backwards—a fact my surfer brother Andy quickly pointed out with glee.  Donning the full wetsuit can be an awkward struggle.  I have heard it compared to “trying to put a marshmallow in a piggy bank.”  It turned out to be awkward, but not much of a struggle.  The shop itself was not that large, but there was a small fitting room with chair I could use to get into the wetsuit bottoms.  Once that was done, the rest was easy.  The suit fit fine, but with its 6.5 mm thick neoprene, I quickly became very warm.  She then handed me a “stabjacket” buoyancy control device with Velcro cummerbund.  It fit, but I had no idea how to use it. 

After I doffed the wetsuit, Patti asked “what is your weight?  I need to know it to set you up with a weight belt and weights for your open water training.”  She explained that as a rule of thumb with the equipment they used the initial weight would be 10 percent of my body weight plus two to four pounds.

“About 225,” I replied, “so that would make it 24 and a half pounds?”

“Let’s call it an even 25 pounds for now” she said as she marked the sheet, “you can always adjust it.  On the beach dive and again off the boat, Dave will do a buoyancy check in the water to make any adjustments that may be needed.”

She showed me a selection of booties, fins, and gloves.  The store’s selection was limited to two or three styles of each.  I selected with a basic thin sole neoprene bootie.  I liked the US Diver Compro composite fins in white.  It also came in red and blue.  I selected a pair of non-descript neoprene gloves. 

The decision on which dive knife to purchase was perplexing.  I recalled from lecture the night before that Dave explained that “a dive knife was a tool, not a weapon. We don’t carry knives to fight of sharks or other divers. There are two types of dive knives, a blunt-end knife and a pointed-end knife.  Most pointed-end knives end up as blunt-end knives because the pointed tip usually breaks off when someone used it as a pry tool.  In most cases you will use the knife underwater as a pry tool and to cut fishing line. “

One knife Aquatics sold looked a small sword with a large molded plastic grip, a long drop point blade with a serrated edge along the top.  Despite its lethal appearance, the sheath and straps were cheap plastic.  However, the knife that caught my eye was a Wenoka dive knife designed by Blackie Collins.  Neither name meant anything to me.  The features sold the knife.  The handle provided a secure grip, it felt good in in my hand.  A good hard plastic sheath held the knife securely.  Real rubber straps would securely hold the knife and sheath in place.  (Blackie Collins, I discovered later, was a well-known knife designer.) Most importantly, the blade featured a reasonably sharp cutting edge, a blunt end like a pry bar, and fish line cutter notch.  

I mentioned that I had a large waterproof duffle bag purchased for my trip up Mt. Whitney a few months before that would hold all the scuba gear. Patti pointed out that while that would be good for carrying the gear to and from the dive site or boat, I might want to buy a smaller bag as well.  She explained that while the smaller bag was really used for game, it doubled as a personal gear bag.  “On a boat, gear is strewn all over the deck as people come back from a dive.  Putting everything in the bag helps keep your gear separate for everyone else’s gear.  And on a boat, all gear looks the same!”  I selected a smaller yellow mesh goodie bag.  Looking back, the goodie bag was one of the most utilitarian purchases I made.

Finally, there was the logbook with enough room for 25 dives.  At the time I wondered how many years it would take me to fill the book. 

This initial purchase started what seemed an endless cycle of buying new gear to replace or upgrade gear that I owned.  The result 40 years later is a collection of masks, fins, gloves, knives and wetsuits.  One can never have enough gear.