Our morning starts at five thirty. We have cold boiled eggs and cold bacon for breakfast. We have learned over the years this is the easiest way to get the day going quickly and still have good protein for a hard day's work.
Mike works quickly getting all the machines warmed up. The new dive compressor is fired up and ran to the pressure settings, the hauler, that lifts the bags over the side, is warmed up. The kicker motor is fired up and left idling.
"It looks like everything is good to go," Mike exclaims over the roar of all the engines.
"Ok, I'm going to start getting into my dive gear," I reply back.
Time vanishes so quickly in the morning. One minute is it six, and it seems only a minute later it is seven o'clock.
At seven thirty I'm in my dive suit and beginning the process of attaching the dive gear. My pony bottle is hefted on by Mike. I arrange the shoulder straps, tighten the belt, and plug in the dry suit inflater.
"Ok, ready for my 'best friend'," I say to Mike. My "Best Friend" is what I have named my very heavy dive weight belt. I have never weighed it, but I can assure you, it is heavy. By the end of a dive day it feels like it has bored through my back and is planted into my kidney.
In a morning I will put on a heavy duty set of smart wool long johns, a top of expedition weight polar fleece, two pair of smart wool socks, and then the heavy full body suit of hallow fill material, which is like putting on a form fitted sleeping bag. Trust me, it is very warm, but also very buoyant.
All these under garments, plus a crushed neoprene dive suit, has to be weighted to get me below the surface.
I groan as I tighten the weight belt onto my back. "Just as heavy as last year," I grumble to myself.
Two pair of gloves, one light weight under glove and one pair of heavy weight neoprene with enforced fingers go on with much tugging. My wet suit hood and my mask are in place. I sit on the back of the boat with a bag in hand waiting for Mike to count down the minutes to eight o'clock.
"It's time," Mike shouts over the roar of the compressor motor.
I glance at my wrist out of habit to check my computer. It's not there.
"Mike, I need you to get my dive computer out of my dive bag. I forgot it!" I shout over the roar of the machines.
He races inside and then back with the computer. He has to strap it on as I am so bulked up in dive gear.
"Ready?" I shout to Mike.
He gives me the thumbs up signal.
I jam the regulator into my mouth suck in a sweet breath of air and push off the boat.
The bitter cold water of the Alaska ocean bites my face and hands.
I give Mike the OK sign and he OK's back. I deflate my suit and slowly sink out of sight into the dark early morning water.
I pinch my nose every ten feet of depth and clear my ears. I want to make sure I get them good and cleared on the first dive.
The water is not super clear as the rain from Saturday and Sunday has murked up the bay. Visibility is still about twenty feet.
I see the white shells gleam on the bottom as I descend into the inky depths. I constantly check my computer to make sure it is reading properly as I descend. All systems go.
I unroll my cucumber bag and start swimming to the clumps of kelp I see close by. Nothing. I swim a bit further, still nothing.
Thirty feet. Drop to forty feet, still no cucumbers. I look up and cannot see the surface or the boat above through the dingy water. I start to feel a little panicky...
"Come on Earl, you've done this a thousand times. Just put your head down and find some product," I tell myself. "Slow and steady breaths."
Tug, tug, tug. Three tugs on my air hose. That is Mikes signal that something is wrong and for me to get up as quickly as possible. I look at my dive computer, I've only been down five minutes.
I tap my chest inflater and head for the surface.
Mike pulls me to the boat by my air hose.
"A hose broke on the compressor!" Mike shouts above the roar of the machine.
I give him the cut throat signal to turn off the noisy machine.
"What's up?" I ask in disbelief. "This is a brand new machine, nothing should break."
I drop my weight belt and get out of the bulky gloves and then out of my swim fins.
Mike is holding up a hose that goes from the compressor to the reserve tank. It is broken off cleanly.
"You've got to be kidding me," I whine. "How can a brand new hose like that snap off in the first five minutes?"
"There are extra hoses inside the left hand compartment in the cabin of the boat," I instruct Mike. He races in to find them.
I stand and watch him unscrew the broken one and replace it with a used hose from years past.
"Hope that one holds up," I comment, more to myself than to Mike.
"I was a tad bit panicky down there," I inform Mike. I've never been this way before.
He stops his work and looks at me. "Are you alright? Sure you want to do this?"
We have always said that we will never push ourselves if something does not look good. "Safety first" has been our motto from day one.
"I think I'll be fine. Kind of crazy though..."
Mike had the hose installed and fires up the compressor. It pumps out air into the reserve tank. All systems look good.
Back into my dive gear and into the cold water.
This time I get to the bottom and feel totally comfortable. I guess I needed that little break to settle me down.
I swim and pick cucumbers for nearly an hour when I get the tug, tug, tug signal again.
"Now what?" I say to myself as I head for the surface.
Mike helps me on the boat, informing me that the pressure relief valve is malfunctioning on the new compressor. It pops and then allow the air pressure to drop way to low before it re-sets and brings it back up to the 110 pounds of air I need to breath at depth.
Another hour delay as Mike fixes this problem. At last he announces that all is well and I am holding at one hundred and ten pounds of air in the reserve tank.
Back to the bottom.
The cucumber picking is very slow. I fill my first bag and look at my dive computer. It has taken me nearly an hour. I need to pick at least twenty minute bags in order to get my two thousand pounds in the day and a half opening.
"Not good," I say to myself and just keep swimming.
Noon rolls around. I am chilled through and tired from hard swimming and very little picking.
I come up and Mike helps me on the boat.
"Hey at least nothing broke down for a while," I said.
"Isn't it amazing how new stuff breaks down so quickly now days," Mike comments. "It seems like the old stuff is just built better."
"I'll take an hour's break and then let's find a different place to dive," I say to Mike. "Let me warm up a bit, and then we'll go from there. At least I've found enough to pay for our fuel and food!"
Our goal each week is to just pay for the trip. Once the expenses are met, then all money from there is a bonus.
continued...
the new dive compressor
Mike working a bag of cucumbers
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