"Underwater Reflections" by a Cousteau SCUBA diver @frogmenbook - Tumblr Blog

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This is the fifth and final episode of Richard Hyman’s recollections of expeditions with Captain Jacques Cousteau and the crew of Calypso. Richard’s last episode described his 1975 adventures. Here he resumes in 1979. It was the third of June in 1979 when I again rendezvoused with Calypso. She’d just completed yet another Atlantic crossing, …

This is the fourth episode in Richard Hyman’s recollections of his adventures traveling with Jacques-Yves Cousteau (JYC) and the crew of Calypso. The last episode closed in January 1975, with Richard saying that John Denver wanted to write a song about Calypso, it wasn’t finished until after he returned to Colorado, but it’s a great …

This is the third episode in Richard Hyman’s recollections of his adventures traveling with Jacques Cousteau and the crew of the Calypso. Enjoy the “The Fish That Swallowed Jonah.” January 4, 1975 and we’re off. Sailing south from Isla Mujeres, Mexico to begin a new film on the subject of reefs. Next stop Chinchorro Reef, …

This is the second episode in Richard Hyman’s recollections of his adventures traveling with Jacques Cousteau and the crew of the Calypso. I call it a mini-expedition. Over 1974’s Thanksgiving break, my freshman year of college. I flew to Panama City, Florida where I first saw Jacques Cousteau’s famed research vessel Calypso. I had the …

Inside The World of Jacques Cousteau: Episode I – Meeting The Captain

We were very pleased at the response that we received to our recent article on Jacques Cousteau’s Red Hat and we are additionally pleased to bring you Richard Hyman’s fascinating story of traveling and diving with Cousteau and the crew of the Calypso.

Cousteau had been exploring, writing and filming since the late forties and in 1968 he launched his film series The Undersea World of Jacques Cousteau. The series would run for nine seasons and enthrall millions of viewers with the beauty and mystery of the underwater world.

In 1973 at the age of 18 Richard met Jacques and got a job driving a supply truck, which led to diving with manatees, filming spiny lobsters and spawning groupers and exploring Belize’s Barrier Reef – and that was just the beginning. In this, the first episode, Richard describes how he met the Captain and traveled to the wintry waters of Northern Canada to film Beavers of the North Country.

Take over Richard.

Meeting the Captain

With all of Cousteau’s success, unfortunately, his business, The Cousteau Group was having great difficulty. In 1972 my father, Fred Hyman was recruited as President and CEO to lead the organization and turn it around, which he did. Also, In 1973 he co-founded and led The Cousteau Society.

In July of 1973, just after graduating from High School, dad asked if I’d like to join him on a business trip to Los Angeles to meet Cousteau and his sons Jean-Michel and Philippe. Of course I jumped at the chance.

Captain Cousteau and his sons picked us up at LAX. I remember it being a hot day and that we rode with all the windows open. There was energy and laughter. While they met at the office. I waited, viewing the vast library of photos, wondering what it would be like to go on a Cousteau expedition.

My first SCUBA lesson with Philippe Cousteau as Instructor

When their business was done, we retired to Philippe’s nearby home for a swim in his pool. That’s where Philippe Cousteau gave me my first SCUBA lesson! He was patient and calm, essential characteristics of a good diver.

Later we went to dinner, along with divers Ivan Giacoletto and Louis Prezelin. Captain Cousteau mentioned that they needed a driver. He asked if I’d like to join Ivan transporting camera equipment, SCUBA gear and other supplies from L.A. to Lac La Ronge in northern Saskatchewan, Canada. I had no idea where Saskatchewan was. (It was a time well before the Internet and smart phones so I couldn’t even look it up.) But I was curious, and excited, and said yes. The rest is history!

Off to Canada with Felix!

A few days later and we were off. Beating the daytime heat with the nighttime desert crossing. I remember driving while Ivan slept, being entertained by the vast sky and many dozens of shooting stars. Ivan spoke little English and I spoke little French. We laughed a lot, taught each other language, and became good friends.

Other team members were to trailer “Felix”, the helicopter. We were to rendezvous at the Canadian border and cross together. However, their mechanical misfortunes allowed us spare time, which we enjoyed touring both Yellowstone and Glacier National Parks. Eventually we met François, Anne-Lise, and Bob McKeegan at the border.

We made it to la Ronge and from there flew the transported supplies plus locally procured lumber, nails, food, etc. via seaplane to the final destination, Foster Lake. There I worked with Cree Native Americans building the cabin, which the team stayed in that winter while filming Beavers of the North Country. (photo – Richard Hyman)

“The Chewed”

The name Lac La Ronge comes from the French verb ‘ronger’, “to gnaw” and means literally “the chewed” referring to the local beaver operation and the early French fur traders. The first Lac La Ronge fur trading post was established in 1782. The photo shows me helping with the construction at Foster Lake.

At the end of August I had to leave for college. I didn’t want to go, thinking this was a once in a lifetime opportunity. Little did I know that it was just the beginning.

That winter the Cousteau team kept in touch by sending me updates written on birch bark taken from trees the beavers had cut.

By Richard Hyman, contributor to Blue Ocean Network

Beavers of the North Country

Upcoming Adventures in Future Episodes

There are many more intimate glimpses of life with the Cousteaus in the following episodes, including what it was like to work on the Calypso. Diving and filming spiny lobsters and spawning groupers on the reefs of Belize and Mexico. Searching for the wreck of the USS Monitor in deep, rough waters off the Eastern Seaboard. Sailing to Martinique and diving on sunken shipwrecks. Meeting John Denver and how Denver was inspired to write his famous song Calypso. Plus, finally, how I got my own, red hat.

The True Story of My Journeys

In 2011, Richard published Frogmen: The True Story of My Journeys With Captain Jacques-Yves Cousteau and the Crew of Calypso. A fascinating first-hand account of his experiences aboard the Calypso, FROGMEN is the inspiring story of a young man who pays homage to one of the greatest explorers and visionaries of all time. You can find your copy at Amazon.com, available in ebook and softcover. For direct shipment of signed books contact Richard at [email protected] or check out Richard’s website at: www.richardehyman.com

What is the name of Jacque's son that drowned at the mouth of the St Lawrence River and what was the cause of that accident?

Was not Jacques’ son. Philippe was Jacques’ son, who died in Bay of Lisbon, Portugal.

The Incredible Story Beneath Jacques Cousteau’s Famous Red Hat

A red hat, a hard hat and Winchester Cathedral: How did Jacques Cousteau’s famous red hat become an icon?

Calypso Captain, SCUBA diver, filmmaker, conservationist, scientist, innovator and author, Jacques Yves Cousteau was born on June 11, 1910 in Saint-Andre-de Cubzac France. Known as “Jyc” (rhymes with “chic” and pronounced with the soft J in ‘Jacques’), Cousteau was not only an iconic explorer – but a fashion icon.

Seriously. Can you think of JYC without the red knit hat? And where did that hat come from anyway? We did some digging so you don’t have to. Here is the unusual story of a red hat, a hard hat and Winchester Cathedral.

Sifting through maritime history, it turns out the knitted hat has its origins in Britain as standard issue for the British Army and Royal Navy divers, and as far back as the end of the 1800’s and early 1900’s, many hundreds of civil engineering divers were wearing the red hat. Called a “cap comforter” in admiralty speak, most early pictures of hard hat divers show them wearing a cozy cap while topside. But the transformation of red woolen hat into bold fashion statement is attributed to the most famous hardhat diver in the world, William Walker.

William Walker and Winchester Cathedral

William Walker (1869-1918) was Chief Diver at legendary British commercial diving company Siebe Gorman & Company Ltd. (est. 1830), overseeing some 200 divers working around the world. But Walker’s real claim to fame was single-handedly saving one of England’s 11th century Coronation Cathedrals from collapsing. It was a diving job.

Opened in 1093, Winchester Cathedral is one of the largest cathedrals in Europe. Early on the cathedral had been a church of choice for royal weddings, funerals and marriages. Fast forward to 1906 and Winchester Cathedral had a weighty problem. When the cathedral’s builders had laid the foundations back in 1079, they unknowingly placed them on top of a peat bog – and as a consequence the cathedral was sinking.

The only way to save the cathedral was to remove the layer of peat below and fill the space with concrete. The renovation was complicated because the 3.5 meter space below the Cathedral was filled with turbid ground water. This was a job for a diver; and being one of the best in the world, William Walker was called to the task. (photo – Walker in front of Winchester Cathedral). The task was monumental, and William Walker became known as the diver who saved the cathedral.

Between 1906 and 1911, Walker spent six hours a day in 20′ of pitch black water, working blind to under-pin the foundations of Winchester Cathedral. Against these daunting odds Walker managed to lay 25,000 bags of concrete, 115,000 concrete blocks and 900,000 engineering bricks with the help of a topside support crew of 150. For his work, Walker was awarded the honour of the Royal Victorian Order. Today, a bust of Walker is on display at the cathedral, with Walker sporting the famous cap comforter.

More vintage photos of this major undertaking can be found at the Winchester Cathedral site.

From Cozy Cap to Fashion Statement

Some may argue if such gallant efforts catapulted the red cap into fashion fame, but the fact remains that the red cap comforter became, and still is, the trademark of commercial divers. By the 1950’s, the use of S.C.U.B.A. equipment moved from commercial to general use, thanks to aqualung inventors Emile Gagnan and Jacques Yves Cousteau: With Cousteau and other diving personalities upholding the diving fashion statement, the red woolen cap soon became the world wide recognized symbol of the diver. (photo – Rolex Magazine)

Another Cap, Another Story

This brings us to author Richard Hyman who also has a red hat and an equally fascinating story, episodes of which we will share with our Blue Ocean community. At the tender age of 18 Richard met Jacques and got a job driving a supply truck, which led to diving with manatees, chasing spiny lobsters, filming spawning groupers and exploring Belize’s Barrier Reef – and that was just the beginning. Watch for the launch of a special Blue Ocean article series, Inside the World of Jacques Cousteau.

In the first episode, Richard describes his earliest adventures with the Captain, including how to get a red cap. In the photo, Hyman is the skinny one on the left and Jacques is the skinny one on the right. (photo- Richard Hyman)

The True Story of My Journeys

By Laurie Wilson, Blue Ocean Network

#cousteau #water #ocean #landsat #bigdata #scuba

Offshore Oil – The Next Keystone

Written by guest blogger, David Helvarg, Author and Environmental Activist

So what do conservative Congressmen Curt Clawson of Florida and Mark Sanford of South Carolina, liberal Congressman Sam Farr of California, climate activist Bill McKibben, a former petroleum engineer, an evangelical minister and a surfer all have in common? No, it’s not a joke. They all spoke out against offshore oil and gas drilling at our D.C. press conference for the Sea Party Coalition on November 4. The Sea Party aims to make opposition to proposed offshore drilling a major issue in the 2016 election.

President Obama’s decision two days later to cancel the Keystone XL pipeline after seven years of polarized debate, and the pushback it received, increases the likelihood that energy and the environment will play a prominent role in the upcoming election. And in the wake of the recent terrorist atrocity in Paris (followed by similar outrages in Mali and Nigeria) the Paris Climate Summit and what comes out of that will likely further polarize the elections and challenge the Republican Party’s climate change position of denial. My hope is that it will also mark the beginning of a global commitment to end our dangerous oil addiction that both funds terrorism and threatens the planet.

For my complete analysis of our Sea Party event under an 85-foot life sized blue whale see my article “Fish don’t like oil spills and neither do I”: Finally, something environmentalists and conservatives can agree on,” in Salon magazine.

On November 19, Oceana, the Southern Environmental Law Center and other environmental groups invited business people and locally elected leaders to Washington D.C. to meet with the Obama administration and members of Congress to talk about their opposition to offshore drilling in states that have been targeted for acoustic surveying and drilling (and inevitable spilling).

After Shell Oil hit a dry hole in the Chukchi Sea and announced it was giving up fossil fuel exploration in the Arctic Ocean (for now) and the Obama administration cancelled two other pending oil lease sales off our Northern coast (see Blue Notes #140) two strategies seem to have emerged among those battling offshore oil. One is focusing on the hope that President Obama, increasingly committed to addressing climate change and leaving behind an action-based legacy, will reverse course in the final days of his administration and also withdraw his proposed Atlantic lease sales.

The focus of this work combines inside the beltway lobbying with continued grassroots mobilization to convince mostly Republican pro-oil governors in the South (along with pro-oil drilling democratic Governor Terry McAuliffe of Virginia) that it will cost them politically to continue on the track they’re on. The Obama administration has indicated it will not pursue leasing in federal waters off states that don’t want it, so obviously if governors can be turned against the drilling that would make it easier for Obama to withdraw the lease sales.

The Sea Party Coalition including the Sierra Club, Greenpeace, Blue Frontier and some 60 other groups believes that while it would be great if President Obama were to reverse his past mistake in opening up the Arctic and Atlantic to drilling, it’s at least as likely that decision will be made by the next president. They plan, through voter education and mobilization to make offshore oil drilling an issue during the 2016 elections that the presidential candidates will have to address. Then next summer, as Blue Frontier did in 2012, we will send a letter to the final two candidates from ocean leaders in conservation, recreation, science and business to find out where they stand on the future of our public seas including offshore drilling and publicize the results so that the public can know where they stand on protecting the blue in our red, white and blue.

In the 1980s when California defeated plans for new offshore drilling (see my book, ‘The Golden Shore’) the issue was coastal pollution versus energy. Today, as climate activist Bill McKibben pointed out at the Sea Party press conference, even if there is no oil spill from offshore operations and the oil is refined and burned in cars and power plants we create a carbon-dioxide spill into that atmosphere that will continue heating the ocean, raising sea levels and changing the basic chemistry of seawater in a way not good for complex life on our blue planet.

For millions of people from Dewey Beach Delaware to Pawley’s Island South Carolina and Key West Florida questions of strategy or whether offshore drilling is an ocean issue or a climate issue are less important than that the threat of offshore oil go away, hopefully forever and that we begin to deal seriously with the rising seas and more powerful typhoons, droughts and extreme weather that are becoming a part of our daily lives because of our burning of fossil fuels (and forests).

The good news is there are some ideas so inherently stupid – be it processing and pumping tar sands for export like the Keystone scheme proposed or continuing high-risk at sea oil exploitation – that we can actually defeat them and offer something better (job generating clean energy and marine sanctuaries) if we all school together.

#SeaParty #Ocean #BlueFrontier #FROGMEN #Cousteau #SCUBA #SierraClub #Oil #Florida #SouthCarolina

He bristled, sipped some scotch, then strongly stated, “…because they are easier to breathe than single-hose types”.

Preface: Writing my book FROGMEN has enabled me to reconnect with old friends. Bill agreed to let me share his amusing, insightful story about his experience working with the Cousteau team. Enjoy! - Richard

Cousteau 1975: Bimini By Dr. William Herrnkind Professor Emeritus, FSU, [email protected]

Mass migrating lobsters evaded filming by the Calypso’s team at Contoy in late 1974, largely because waters were too rough and turbid. Thus, JYC agreed to a second effort at Bimini, my research “backyard”, in fall 1975. However, JYC and Calypso were committed elsewhere so a shore and seaplane based team was assembled, led by Philippe. And a fine assemblage it was, including master diver Bernard Delemotte (my 1974 cabin-mate on Calypso), cinematographer Michel Deloire and several others. Much effort time and expense had been invested on this project so successful underwater footage of large lobster formations was essential. I had all but promised success. As we impatiently awaited a migration-triggering cold front, my assertion on occasion would later lead me to the rum bottle.

In mid-October, Bernard, Michel and his wife met my grad student Paul Kanciruk at Bimini and setup shore-base housekeeping in a large rented cottage. Bernard had brought a Zodiac but at my urging also rented a fast, roomy, stable 17 ft. cathedral hulled skiff with a 100 hp Evinrude from the Lerner Marine Lab, where my students and I had operated since 1969. Paul was in his last year of doctoral research on ecological and behavioral aspects of mass migration – he was as capable and familiar with the lobster waters as I.

Meanwhile, I was obliged to teach for another week. Paul served as guide until I finished my 13- lecture section of a big liberal studies class at FSU – lectures to an auditorium audience of over 1300 students!

Paul had a somewhat uncomfortable experience with the land team. They conversed mostly to one another … in French. Paul felt left out and wasn’t certain his knowledge was either sought or appreciated. He returned to Tallahassee soon after I arrived to meet his own university obligations. (BTW, Paul went on to run the mass data storage/retrieval system at Oak Ridge Nat. Lab. Tragically he died in 2006. We had co-published 8 lobster research papers in the late 1970s.)

My arrangement worked fine, I appreciated my department head and colleagues for allowing me time away from campus to pursue the project. To create an academic experience, I collaborated with the FSU Marine Laboratory to use their 60 ft. research vessel R/V Tursiops, carrying five of my graduate students, and a Miami-Dade Community College class of 10 marine technology students and their 48 ft. work/dive boat. The students would get academic credit.

The M-DCC arrangement was set up by their faculty member Eric Frehsee, an accomplished underwater photographer and past guest on Calypso. Frehsee was also amidst gathering photos of the migration for National Geographic and had worked with me at Bimini in 1971-1973 (See Nat. Geo. Mag. June 1975). In addition, he planned to shoot stills and cine of the Cousteau team to document their operation. On my behalf, FSU divemaster Joe Halusky coordinated the student effort to produce a topographic and ecological underwater map of a set of patch reefs that served as shelter to lobsters during reproduction in spring, as well as respite to migrant lobsters in fall.

All the watercraft and students meant theoretically that we had lots of logistical assistance but it practically meant keeping everybody out of each other’s hair, especially that of Bernard and Philippe! Everyone wanted to be part of the Cousteau “team”. Thankfully, the M-DCC faculty and Joe Halusky kept the several projects apart yet got all hands on deck when needed. I stayed mostly with the Cousteau team.

About a week after my arrival, word came that the PBY was on the way. One mid-day, the huge ungainly aircraft made an exploratory pass over the narrow Bimini Lagoon, banked steeply, came around and landed – Biminites, tourists and scientists alike gawked. Soon I got to meet Philippe for the first time. He turned out to be a complex character.

As I recall, a cold front hit a week later, but not a strong one. Night migrants showed up in small numbers, a few hundred, but enough to get the cine team filming. Because migrants left their shelters at dusk, I had my grad students observe and record behavior as the lobsters initiated queuing. This turned out to later yield important data and was a good lead into work I did 25 years later. Meanwhile, Michel and Bernard assembled the camera, lights, dive gear and generator aboard the R/V Tursiops, anchored near a den with about 50 migrants. I got to witness Murphy’s Law of the sea in underwater cine ops – whatever can go awry, will. I was already all too familiar with its effect doing underwater science.

The most amusing instance involved the underwater photo team; Bernard, Patrick (I think) and Michele, Zodiac and operator, and several volunteer grad students on Tursiops were to operate the generator. The underwater lights’ power cord stretched to the den, about 100 ft. from the R/V. The Zodiac ferried stuff back and forth. The sun had just set, ambient light was dim. It was essential that the movie lights be off until a queue formed and left the den for open bottom. It was ordained that the dive team would, upon this occurring, wave a dive light back and forth, easily visible thru 20 ft. of clear calm water.

Time went by. A diver rose to the surface low on air to get a refill. Soon another came up for whatever. The generator team was in a high state of anticipation, on hair-trigger – any time now!

Suddenly, a brief flash of light from the bottom. The pull cord was yanked, the generator loudly roared to life deafening us, huge bright beams flooded the den. No lobsters were emergent. Soon a head bobbed up: Bernard, summoning all his lung power, yet his voice barely audible over the noise, “STOP ZEE JENERATOR!!”

A diver had inadvertently hit the switch on his dive light. The lobsters withdrew well back into the den for the night.

Next day, while the land and vessel based teams looked underwater near the islands for migrants, I proposed to Philippe that we use the PBY to fly low and slow over the 5-10 m deep shallows of the Bahama Bank away from Bimini and try to spot queues as dark lines standing out from the predominantly sand sea floor – I was told by a Florida Marine Patrol officer that he once saw migrants in the Keys that way. We tried this at Contoy via ‘copter but waters were too turbid. Philippe fell for the idea – off we went.

We flew the Great Bahama Bank north and east of Bimini but saw no migrants so we flew north over deep water to the Little Bahama Bank east of Grand Bahama Island – an area reported to me by a Bahamian colleague to host migrations.

We saw no lobsters but near East End, Grand Bahama, I pointed out an assemblage of 20 or more Bahamian lobster boats – 15 ft. outboard skiffs sculled by one person as the other peered thru a glass-bottom bucket and wielded a bully net – the net hoop set perpendicular to the pole so it could be pushed downward over one, or better yet, several lobsters. I suggested so many concentrated boats surely indicated migration. Philippe decide to land and check it out.

We sure got the lobster fishers attention as the PBY swooped among the tiny skiffs, dwarfing them. We soon had several guys visit to ask what we were doing – they were helpful and cooperative. Indeed, the “crawfeesh” were “marchin’”.

By the time we anchored up, inflated the Zodiac, hauled out the dive gear, etc., it was near dusk. There was enough food for Jan (definitely pregnant at the time) to prep a meal although stocks aboard were sparse. We had expected to be back at Bimini by dark. Best of all, Philippe removed a hatch in the floor to reveal a well-stocked bar – I chose scotch. So did Philippe. We bonded.

We got busy the next day inflating the Zodiac and readying the dive gear and camera then heading to the lobster skiffs. Short queues were apparently migrating from the Bank side of Grand Bahama through mangrove sloughs to the dropoff into the Northwest Providence Channel. Philippe got some good footage of queues assembling into a closely packed pod all pointing antennae – their main defensive weapon – at an “attacking” bully net. This scene made the eventual program. However, filming was cut short by an engine problem on the PBY. The co-pilot/mechanic proclaimed we needed to do repairs sooner than later. We took off and flew to the Grand Bahama International airport.

After landing, I became aware at one of Philippe’s mild phobias – he was a bit miserly but hated to personally confront people of authority to ask for favors. In this case he didn’t want to pay the airport fees, wanted them waived. So, he told me to arrange it with the airport authorities. I resisted. You see, I have the same personality flaw. But I reluctantly did as he asked.

I called the airport administration and announced that the world-famous Cousteau Team had landed with urgent need to speak to the Director. He came on and greeted me with a welcome and what could he do for us? And who was I? I told him about the PBY’s repair needs and that I was the lead consultant for JYC and in the company of son Philippe. I added that I had some familiarity with aviation, as my long-time neighbor at home was Director of Tallahassee Regional Airport, whom he knew. This seemed to win him over. He agreed to waive landing fees on the condition that we visit his office so he could meet Philippe in person. And so we did. Philippe put on a good show.

Once we checked into a hotel (the Xanadu!) I had little to do so I asked the co-pilot, who was also a certified mechanic, if I could be of assistance. Sure, he said, I could pass him tools he specified as we stood on tall scaffolding while he leaned into the bowels of the big radial engine. I don’t recall the mechanical issue but it took less than a day to make repairs. We would return to the lobster site the next day. However a family tragedy befell me; a phone message reached me that my father in law had suffered a fatal heart attack at home in upstate New York. I decided to fly out from Bimini earlier than planned but we spent another day filming at East End.

We saw no large scale mass queuing in the shallows nor on a deep dive (~130 ft.) to look for migrants that might have gone over the Bahama Bank edge. I accompanied Philippe on the dive. Afterward we discussed scuba diving philosophy – from which I learned a new perspective. I had asked him why he still used the “old technology” of double-hose regulators. He bristled, sipped some scotch, then strongly stated, “…because they are easier to breathe than single-hose types”. Furthermore, breathing is an energy consuming activity, one simply expends more energy on a single hose. He then criticized the gear I was using, such as the buoyancy vest, which is a big drag producer – like a parachute – fatiguing the diver. I mumbled something about that the vest had pockets where I carried instruments. He convinced me that U. S. dive gear was designed to isolate, protect, the user from the medium, not tune in to it. Why carry 20 lbs. of lead to have to offset it with an inflated, drag-producing buoyancy compensator. I was embarrassed to admit I had not considered a diver mimicking marine animals where evolution has shaped them to be biomechanically efficient. I mean, even spiny lobsters, by bringing the antennae together at their fastest walking pace, reduce drag. After that conversation, I often argued for Philippe’s perspective with my diving colleagues.

The migratory activity seemed to be over at East End so we headed back to Bimini with a disappointing amount of lobster footage – mainly sequences of the bully netters and some lobster group defensive behavior. Upon return to Bimini, however, we were elated to find out that there the “crawfeesh was marchin” big time while we were gone. Great footage was recorded of 50-member queues on open substrate in daylight with 100 ft. plus visibility. Virtually all the migratory sequences in the eventual show were from Bimini. Everybody was all smiles, wine and rum glasses were hoisted, and I soon flew to New York State to join with my grieving family.

Sometime the following year I flew to LA to meet with Philippe and to watch the edited show, as it was to appear on the air. I was impressed how the show was assembled to tell a story and especially how the above-water footage of the seascape and fishermen at Contoy were seamlessly blended with the Bimini underwater scape and migration. To the audience it appeared that the entire event was at one location!

I was OK with the scientific accuracy of all but the anthropomorphic story line at the end where a trailing lobster on a long queue turns to confront an approaching diver (a predator) using his rapier antennae. The sequence was portrayed that the trailing individual was “protecting” his fellows up the column like a rear guard. It is more likely that it was defending itself. In interpreting animal behavior it is scientifically verboten to imbue other species with human consciousness or intent. I was told that if I was adamant, my name could be withheld from the credits. My ego reigned, I relented.

I treasure the experience of working with the Cousteau team and carry with me notable memories and illumination from the two, nearly month-long, stays first on Calypso at Contoy (1974) then Bimini with the PBY (1975). I truly liked all my Cousteau colleagues, including the bright and thoughtful college student Richard Hyman, who took to the science and was much help and good company at Contoy. I have lasting impressions of several key people, especially JYC. I had many conversations with him besides interviews and preparation for them. I appreciated that he did not want to rehearse interviews, so recorded dialog was spontaneous and candid. I found our discussions otherwise to be candid and respectful, mutually so. I was delighted that he was not aloof.

I like to recall the instance where JYC, the new young deckhand from Key West and I got into an occasionally frictional argument over the role and rights of women. A bottle of red wine kept us company so the debate was lively. I can’t remember the outcome of the issues but in perspective the event personified, to me, JYC’s great character. After all, here was a superbly intelligent, world-renowned elder doing his best to win a semi-drunken argument with a know-it-all college professor and a kid of limited education and life experience. Wine gone, we eventually tottered off to bed without resolution. It was great!

The most amusing event was JYC’s attempt to make something happen while we impatiently awaited a storm to trigger a migration. One morning I wandered out of my cabin (shared with Bernard) where I was met by an animated, smiling JYC. He said, “Come with me Beel. I will show you how we will film lobstair queues.” There lying on the port stern deck was a 20 ft. length of 6 inch diameter PVC pipe. JYC, “I call it zee lobstair bazooka! “ He explained the obvious that we load it with lobsters then shove the line of them out with a push-pole and they would queue away, cameras rolling. I was speechless but stuttered that it was a clever idea.

The divers collected half a dozen local lobsters typical of the size range in the area, that is humongous, JYC and I watched from the gunwale as the team loaded the bazooka, placed 10 yards from the ship in ~20 ft. depth. Explosions of bubbles rose from their effort. After 15 minutes or so, Bernard surfaced, took out his regulator and held up a legless lobster and announced that the specimens were too big around for the barrel of the device. The effort to push the lobsters in a too-tight opening caused them to autotomize their walking legs. I giggled, JYC looked insulted. Yet, theoretically, it might have worked with smaller lobsters.

The most serious issue that JYC shared with me happened on our plane trip back to Miami. We got to talking about ocean protection and the need to salvage fisheries, prevent habitat loss, reduce pollution, and other weighty topics. I might have brought the subject up, as I was concerned that if I “solved” the migration questions that commercial fishers might exploit the predictability in time and location, thus trawling up an entire migratory population throughout the species range. Whatever, JYC grew morose and told me that it was his belief and deep fear that ruination of the marine environment was inevitable. I literally felt a cold chill then I blurted out that, for the sake of the younger generations he had awakened to love the sea and it’s lifeforms, he should not make that admission. It is our calling to soldier on.

Bill Herrnkind [email protected]

richardehyman@gmail www.richardehyman.com frogmenbook

@frogmen

#Cousteau FROGMEN Ocean Bahamas MarineBiology SCUBA

"Back To The Past" - My visit to Classroom Under The Sea

It’s November of 2014 and I’m currently mid-flight from sunny warm Florida back to my home in chilly Connecticut.

I’ve just become a certified aquanaut after living 24 hours underwater with my new friends Bruce Cantrell and Jessica Fain. An aquanaut is an “individual who remains underwater, exposed to the ambient pressure, long enough to come into equilibrium with his or her breathing media. Usually this is done in an underwater habitat on the seafloor for a period equal to or greater than 24 continuous hours without returning to the surface.”[1]

Bruce and Jessica are more than mid-way through their record setting 73 days (and nights) underwater in Jules Undersea Lodge (Jules’). I believe today marks 41 days down, 32 days remaining. Jessica has already broken the record for a female, whereas Bruce and Jessica are aiming, and no doubt will beat the all-time record of 69 days set in this same habitat by Richard Pressley 22 years ago in 1992.

I was honored that they invited me to visit Classroom Under The Sea, participate in a live webcast on Ocean Exploration, and to stay the night.

Classroom Under The Sea’s mission is to:

1.) “Host the first online college credit biology course taught from below the sea surface.

2.) Provide opportunities for middle and high school students to learn more about the ocean and challenges of living in the sea through weekly episodes broadcast on the web.

3.) Provide opportunities for local students to join the aquanauts in the habitat and experience living and working in the sea.

4.) Set the world record for undersea living”[2]

Bruce is an Associate Professor of biology at Roane State Community College and Jessica is an Adjunct Professor at Roane.

A fascinating undertaking it is, the partnering of the Key Largo-based Marine Resources Development Foundation (MRDF) and Classroom Under The Sea. To date Classroom Under The Sea’s live weekly webcasts have featured topics including:

History of Man in the Sea

The Sea and Space Connection

Fisheries: Prey and Predator

The World of Art and Its Impact on Ocean Conservation

Marine Archeology

Ocean Exploration

Climate Change

Episodes are viewable on YouTube at https://www.youtube.com/user/classroomunderthesea

More information is available at www.RoaneState.edu

Bruce is self admittedly a Cousteau groupie, having been influenced by JYC and the team’s exploits. Lucky for me as that enabled this amazing experience. Bruce sort of apologetically even admitted that he likes his diving equipment black and yellow, in line with Cousteau’s black wetsuits with a yellow stripe down the side. I love that.

So what is Jules’? As John Denver, one of my Cousteau friends would have undoubtedly said, “Far Out!” John would have loved it. Oh yeah, it too was literally cool as I guess Jess likes the A/C cranked. Good thing I listened to Bruce when he told me to bring sweats.

During the evening of my visit, Chris Olstad of MRDF paid us a visit. Chris showed me a fascinating historical video, which explained to me that Jules’ is a repurposed underwater research laboratory. Formerly known as La Chalupa, it was an underwater habitat used to explore the continental shelf off the coast of Puerto Rico. Mr. Ian Koblich (pronounced Yan) developed and operated La Chalupa.

Today Ian is President of the MRDF, www.MRDF.org, which owns Jules’. The Key Largo Underseas Park in Key Largo, FL operates Jules’.

In the mid-1980s Ian and Neil Monney developed Jules’. “The two men have developed and managed undersea habitats that have produced more aquanauts than all of the other undersea habitats in the world combined.” Today there are only three surviving habitats worldwide, two of which are here in Key Largo’s Emerald Lagoon. The third, Aquarius, is not far away, adjacent to the Florida Keys National Marine Sanctuary.

Jules’ is fixed atop legs about five feet from the lagoon’s 30-foot bottom. I asked Jessica whether the habitat moves, as it occasionally felt like it. She agreed and we briefly discussed that there must be a physical explanation for why we sense movement. I don’t know but suspect that the life support system has something to do with it, as compressed air is constantly being pumped into and exhausted out of the environment. An underwater habitat has to meet the needs of human physiology. Obviously one of the most basic human needs is to be able to breath air.

The habitat is filled with compressed air, which prevents the water from rising and flooding the living area. A five by seven foot "moon pool" in the floor of the centered wet room is how you enter. You dive underneath the structure and rise into the moon pool. There you deposit your dive gear and hop in a shower. It seems pretty important to dry off in the wet room before sliding open a circular doorway that’s about twice the size of a man hole cover, and climbing into either the dry sleeping chamber with two semi-private bedrooms (bunks), or on the opposite side of the wet room climb through a similar entry to the eight by twenty foot dry common room. The two bedrooms and the common room each have a 42 inch round window to the sea.

Figure 1: A model showing the two cylinders, which make up the sleeping chamber and the common room with the wet room in the center. (The “lab”, which I’ll mention is the other white cylinder to the right.)

Figure 2: Bruce and Jessica Skyping with a school. The common room’s circular window is behind them.

Much of the research conducted in habitats has been focused on aquanaut and astronaut human physiology and the effects of breathing gases under pressure. Bruce and Jess recently hosted astronauts Buzz Aldrin and Mike Gernhardt who discussed how underwater training has helped prepare astronauts for space exploration. Buzz was 1969’s Apollo 11 Lunar Module Pilot and the second person to walk on the moon. Mike manages the environmental physiology lab at Houston’s Johnson Space Center and has logged more than 43 days in space.

I expect they both know my friend Russell Schweickart. Rusty was 1969’s Apollo 9 Lunar Module Pilot, the third manned flight of the Apollo series and the first manned flight of the lunar module.[3] He too served as backup commander for the first Skylab mission in 1973 before moving to NASA Headquarters in Washington, DC as Director of User Affairs in the Office of Applications. In this position he was responsible for transferring NASA technology to the private sector. Thanks to Cousteau’s great relationship with NASA, specifically Dr. George Low[4], the Deputy Administrator of NASA, Rusty also had the role of liaison to Cousteau. That opened the door for me to intern for Rusty in Washington the bicentennial summer of 1976.

Jules’ is a pressurized environment, so if one stays long enough one will become saturated. Saturation means that due to exposure to breathing gas in a pressurized environment for a prolonged period of time a diver’s tissues have absorbed the maximum amount of gas possible, e.g. the tissues are saturated with nitrogen. Once the tissues become saturated, the time to ascend from depth and safely decompress will not increase with further exposure. This is a diving technique that reduces the risk of decompression sickness, e.g. “the bends”[5], enabling divers to live and work in undersea habitats at depth for extended periods of time.

I became saturated and although we were not deep enough for me to have to make any decompression stops during ascent, I did have to wait 24 hours before flying in order to “off gas, meaning reducing the load of nitrogen and other inert gasses from my tissues. Although Bruce and Jessica will be saturated for 73 days they will follow a similar protocol. Andy Pruna, a visitor mentioned below, did suggest they consider taking some oxygen upon surfacing and Bruce agreed that they would do that as a precaution. (Taking an abundance of caution, simplifying the story, I told today’s flight flight attendant that I’d been diving. I’d waited 24 hours but if I didn’t feel well I’d need oxygen. She blew me off.)

Regarding MRDF, I didn’t meet Ian. He sounds like a fascinating and brilliant personality. I wonder if he and JYC ever met. I can just hear them at the dining table in Calypso’s wardroom or in Jules’. I’m reminded of something I write in my book, about Dr. Low’s visit to Calypso when he and JYC discussed “the upcoming space flight with the Russians, mass transit, American cars, rockets, weather, submarines, and what JYC calls the ‘energy problem’, not a crisis...Cousteau is interested in networking satellite-based technology and ocean-based sensors to remotely monitor the health of the oceans.” I expect Ian and JYC might discuss JYC’s three Conshelf Missions, including 1963’s Conshelf Two, which was at roughly the same depth as Jules’.

So let’s get back to the beginning… I first arrived at the habitat a bit earlier than I was expected. I just didn’t want to be late. This allowed me time to get acquainted with Bruce and Jessica before two other visitors arrived, Andy Pruna, a multitalented accomplished documentary filmmaker and diver, and Chelsea Wegner, an impressive young lady who is a Sea Grant Fellow from NOAA. The three of us made up the day’s webcast program along with Chelsea’s boss, Craig McLean who was on Skype.

Figure 3: Left to right, Bruce, Chelsea, me, Jessica, Andy

The webcast seemed to go well, except for the telephone call that came in as Bruce was mentioning my bio.

My usual presentation has evolved and is now well honed and quite popular. I use over 100 photographs to share my story of adventure. I could have easily walked the students through the 20 photos I’d prepared. I think they would have enjoyed that.

Figure 4: The set in the common room.

Figure 5: Megan (Jessica’s sister who’s staying topside) making some magic.

Figure 6: Chelsea and Andy heading out. (Note the spider hanging in upper right, a Halloween leftover.)

After the webcast, no sooner had Chelsea and Andy departed than the Univision television crew arrived, including Andy’s son Andres. That was entertaining, to say the least. Over the course of a few hours, they set-up, shot live footage, and then packed and surfaced.

Figure 7: Andres and the Univision crew in the common room.

Then after a short breather Chris arrived. He’d made the long commute of ‘five kicks’ over from the neighboring “lab”, the aforementioned second habitat within the lagoon. He’s a biologist and underwater technologist and has operated MRDF’s manned underwater laboratory habitat ”MarineLab”, the longest serving seafloor habitat in history, since 1984,

The eight by 16 foot habitat supports up to four people and is divided into a laboratory, a wet room and a transparent observation sphere. MarineLab was used as an integral part of the Scott Carpenter Man in the Sea Program.[6]

“Chris has logged more underwater hours living and working from undersea habitats and has directly supervised more aquanauts on more missions than any other human.”[7]

I was blown away and intrigued by Chris’s intelligence and seemingly futuristic work and thinking about Remotely Operated Vehicles (ROVs) and other mind bending disruptive yet potentially productive technologies. According to Chris much of it is not so futuristic. Chris spoke of work underway and real progress to reduce the latency of signal processing to more practical useable levels between a land-based operator and a ROV on the bottom of the deepest part of the ocean, or the shallower oil well heads below the Gulf of Mexico, or even between earth and an ROV on the surface of Mars.

As the evening visit from Chris wound down, it was probably approaching 10:30 p.m. or so, he invited us to then come visit the lab…a night dive. The three of us, Bruce, Jess and I were all pretty comfy and I’d say a little chilled by the A/C…at least Bruce and I were, as was Chris. Bruce was understandably tired, as was I. Jess suggested to Bruce that he “man up” and she offered to take me. I kind of let them off the hook. I’d had a great full day and didn’t need to prove anything. Given Chris’s wonderful passion I’m quite sure he was disappointed. I’m hopeful I can visit the lab another time.

Shortly thereafter we turned in. Bruce graciously gave up his comfy bunk for me to sleep in while he slept on the bench seat in the common room. He said he prefers the bench but I didn’t buy it for a minute. It was awfully nice of him.

I left the common room, passed through the wet room and the passage into Bruce’s bunk area.

Figure 8: The circular passageway one climbs through from the wet room into Bruce’s bunk area.

The next morning I awoke early, around 6:00. The water outside the large circular window at the foot of my bunk (Bruce’s bunk) began to lighten.

Figure 9: Early morning sunlight in the water at the foot of the bed.

I didn’t want to stay in the bunk or awaken Jess in the adjoining room so I climbed through the small but manageable circular sliding door into the wet room where the moon pool is. I slid the circular door closed behind me. This is important, as the sleeping rooms and the common room are climate controlled whereas the wet room area in the center of the habitat is less so. I partially opened the door to the common room on the other side of the wet room to see if Bruce was awake but it was still dark so I quietly slid that circular door closed and camped out by the moon pool for an hour and a half. Although not silent due to the life support system it was peaceful and enjoyable. Nothing dramatic but I enjoyed sitting among the air tanks, wet suits and regulators, watching individual snappers and angelfish scoot by and smaller schools of other fish amble by more slowly.

Thankfully around 8:00 we had two surprise visitors, Rick Molchan and Christina Saida. Both proficient divers and good friends of Bruce and Jess’s from back home in Tennessee. They were fully of energy and good spirits so the humor, entertaining stories and teasing were a fun way to start the day. Rick, who’s a PADI instructor, presented Jess with her recently earned Divemaster card and they shared a contraband pop tart to celebrate. Before long Rick and Christina geared up as they had a 1:00 date with a dive boat in Key West, heading off to catch my old friend Panularis Argus, the South American Spiny Lobster. I wrote a research paper on this creature in 1975 during my Cousteau expedition to Mexico and Belize.

Soon thereafter I packed my few belongings, Bruce and I donned our gear. The plan was to swim to the common room window, where Jess would take our picture. Then we’d look into the nearby lab, tour the lagoon and head back to Jules’. There I’d say good-bye and get the airtight yellow plastic box containing my belongings. Bruce could not surface, as he had to stay submerged to set the record.

Figure 10: Jessica showing off the shirt I made for her. I guess it should have said FROGWOMEN.

Figure 11: Bruce and I are ready to go.

Best laid plans…we headed toward the corner of the habitat and the common room window for Jess to take the photo. Rather Bruce did. My tank’s cylinder valve became tangled in a line that anchored the habitat. I quickly unhooked and hustled after Bruce but was surprisingly short of breath. Something was wrong. Although I had no air gauge, I knew I was out of air. I had no choice but to surface.

I was concerned that Bruce would be worried. He could not surface or he’d lose the record..

I made my way to the diving dock. We confirmed a leak in the tank. - Megan said, “oh and by the way your nose is bleeding”.

Shame on me for not checking the air before the dive. I “assumed” that since I’d had 2,200 psi before the prior day’s descent, that I still had a mostly full tank. Overnight it had leaked.

I dropped my buoyancy compensator (BC)[8], tank and weight belt at the dock and swam out and under with my mask and fins to hand signal to Bruce that I was OK. He got my signal and returned to the moon pool.

There’s a hookah you can take down to the habitat. It’s a long flexible yellow tube with a mouthpiece that supplies air. Pretty cool…but I’d never used one. I got a weight belt and swam down to the habitat using the hookah. Bruce was waiting in the moon pool and Jess was nearby in the wet room.

Figure 12: Megan on the dive dock. Note the bubbles in the distance. That’s from Jules’. A hookah is in the water as others hang nearby. The green barrier across the water is a curtain protecting the habitat from boats passing in the channel. There’s an opening in the curtain below the dock, enabling fish and manatee to enter and exit.

Then I got a new tank, different weight belt and BC. I swam down to Bruce and off we went.

In closing I’m reminded of what John Denver wrote in his song Calypso:

“For though we are strangers

In your silent world

To live on the land

We must learn from the sea”

It was interesting to visit Classroom Under The Sea and get a glimpse of what it takes for us to ‘live in the sea’…

Bruce and Jessica, bonne chance!

Merci beaucoup!

Richard

Richard E. Hyman

[email protected]

www.richardehyman.com

P.S. Here’s the Ocean Exploration webcast. Check out the intro and then if you’re wanting to get to my piece it starts at about the 19:45 mark.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JWXYX-VUmJ8&list=PLb7b9-MwnHFwo3u7RgQsomvtHm5uEGrIx

#Cousteau, #La Chalupa, #Classroom Under The Sea, #SCUBA

[1] http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aquanaut

[2] http://www.roanestate.edu/classroomunderthesea/

[3] I’m struck by both of these dates being 1969. Apollo 9 in March and Apollo 11 in July (Apollo 10 in between in May.) Talk about a space race!

[4] On the day after Christmas 1974 I flew from Miami to Mexico with George, spent time with him there aboard Calypso, and later was a guest in his Northern Virginia home. After retiring from NASA he became President of RPI, a position he held until his death at the early age of 58 due to cancer. The day before he died the White House announced he’d been awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom for his contributions to education and the nation’s space program.

[5] Decompression sickness (DCS), also known as “the bends” or caisson disease, is a condition that most commonly refers to problems associated with underwater diving depressurization. It arises from gases dissolved inside the human body coming out of solution and forming into bubbles. The bubbles can migrate to any part of the body, producing symptoms such as joint pain, rashes, paralysis and death. The term caisson was introduced in the 19th century, when pressurized watertight retaining structures known as caissons were used to keep water from flooding large excavations below the water table, such as bridge supports and tunnels. To ascend the high ambient pressure inside the caisson is slowly reduced; otherwise workers are at risk upon return to the surface level’s lower external atmospheric pressure. In the 1870s, during construction of St. Louis’s Eads Bridge, 15 workers died, two were permanently disabled and 77 were severely afflicted from what was then a mysterious illness. Later during construction of the Brooklyn Bridge there were 110 cases of DCS. (Sources Wikipedia and Undersea and Hyperbaric Medicine.)

[6] http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Underwater_habitat

[7] www.underseacolony.com

[8] JYC told me to leave my BC at home. “We don’t use those.” In FROGMEN I write, “The diver inflates it by either manually breathing into it via an attached tube or by puncturing an attached CO2 cartridge.”… “PADI considers BCs to be a mandatory piece of equipment, but we don’t have a single one on the ship.”

[9] FROGMEN page 35, www.richardehyman.com

Captain (Jacques) Cousteau prohibited spear guns aboard Calypso. We had none! - He told me that he sometimes regretted inventing the aqua lung because of the devastation spear guns had brought to the Mediterranean (and elsewhere.)

Nice write-up by Dave Sigworth of my talk at the Norwalk Maritime Aquarium.

Wreckage from the tsunami off the coast of Japan last year is slowly making its way to American shores, and beachcombers say the debris has begun to reach land.

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