Balls and Chains

Most days I'm either a sternlady or a trap builder and Cap is, well, a captain. Today Cap and I mixed things up a little and went on an adventure. He was the diver and I was the divetender. I drove the boat out to and back from the dive site while Cap prepared and dismantled his gear. I handed him things, cleated off lines, greased shackles, and took his gear when he was done. Cap did all of the hard work.

It was a foggy day on the water. It was beautiful and sunny one minute and the next we'd be immersed in fog so thick that it wet your hair. The fog bank drifted to and from shore all day, teasing us. I don't imagine the visibility was much better underneath the boat either. Visibility in New England waters is pretty poor in general and it certainly isn't improved by grovelling in the mud while tending moorings. This time of year is actually some of the best range of vision that one will find in coastal waters, since the water is still cold and phytoplankton isn't prolific yet. But, again, this makes no difference when one stirs up the mud.

I gotta say, Cap shone his true colors today. He was a star. He was replacing shackles, chains, mooring balls left and right. This is very simple work really. . . when you do it above-water. But even the simplest of tasks is next to impossible when performed underwater. The difficulty level is tripled when you are wearing gloves and a bulky exposure suit, both necessary in cold water diving.

I learned this lesson last summer, during my lobster-research diving internship. My boss would explain the field work that we were to perform after descending to the ocean bottom and I was surprised that he even found a need to explain the details, it was so straightforward. Minutes later I'd splash into the water, as stiff-limbed as a toddler in her first snow suit, so bulky that it renders the poor child immobile, and the boat person would hand me armfuls of gear. By the time I reached the sea floor, I had so many details to pay attention to that I found myself thinking "Now what was it that Boss said to do first?" This phenomenon is called "task-loading" and can actually be dangerous if an inexperienced diver is designated too many tasks to execute, thereby distracting them from safety precautions. But I am just exaggerating my situation last summer. Boss was very good about allowing me to work up to the point where I was comfortable performing the full work load underwater.

At the end of the day, when we pulled into his driveway and turned off the truck, Cap sunk into his seat, hair salty and cheeks red, with a look of satisfied exhaustion that I could relate to as a fellow diver. He said, "There's nothing I'd rather do than dive. I just love it." Cap used to be an urchin diver. I can tell that he loved it by the way he lights up when he talks about the "good ol' days" when urchins were bountiful. The only money to be made diving these days is tending moorings of rich summer people. It can be arduous dealing with some pretty demanding outa-staters, but it's a good excuse for Cap to jump in the water and make a dollar. As for me, I enjoy diving too, but I would just be in the way of Cap. He has a routine and he gets it done efficiently. He sure does it well.