Underwater Adventures

    There are very few people who were given the freedom to experience and explore the world like I was when I was a kid. In my adolecent mind I like to think I had somehow earned the trust of my parents by being smart and resourceful. Thus I had somehow earned the right to explore and I knew with no doubt that they would be behind me to pick up the pieces when I screwed up. I always knew that if I did something crazy I would have my folks to fall back on. Not every one has that type of backup. Many of my friends were allowed to run wild but they didn't have the same type of parents I had; I can remember getting a wild, crazy or just flat out dangerous idea and running it past my father and getting his feedback, while he wouldn't really forbid me to try something he would at least try to stack the odds in my favor.

    I was about 16 and had taken SCUBA lessons with dear ole dad and this opened a whole new exciting world to explore. It was with my newly acquired diving skills that I devised a plan to build my very own submarine. I proceeded to purchase the parts to begin construction. It was a beautiful idea and in my minds eye it was a graceful and elegant design. I will explain its eventual outcome shortly. This “sub” idea however wasn't the first time I had been drawn to the water.

Prior to getting SCUBA certified I can built an apparatus that should have allowed me to breathe underwater. I was 13 and living in Nevada I can honestly say and those who have visited or lived there will attest as well there was very little water to be found and what water there was typically wasn't very clean. This detail however wasn't enough to deter my plans. You see I had entered a science fair about two years prior to that and built a small scale model of an underwater breathing apparatus.

    It was built from two mason jars and several lengths of surgical tubing. The first jar held water and was siphoned into a sealed mason jar the entry of water into the second jar compressed the air and forced it down the hose to a diving bell. The flow of air was controlled with small brass aquarium valves. This apparatus provided enough compressed air to supply a hamster with air held under a glass bowl in a water filled aquarium. I had been given plenty of help from my dad in creating the original model so I figured making the next model would simply require scaling up my hamster model.   

So I proceeded to scale up my original; for this one I used two large 5 gallon buckets and thicker surgical tubing along with larger valves. I wanted to create a model that would give me at least 5 or 6 breathes. I was able to build my model and even successfully tested it out in our bath tub. All that was left was to take it down to the local settling pond and test it out.

I think I mentioned earlier that there was really very little water in the area we lived in. Now some people call it a desert. Well ok everyone calls it the desert. That being said the only available water was used for irrigation on cattle farms and alfalfa fields. There was and still is a series of irrigation canals that crisscrossed the landscape. For most of the year they were dry but there were also times when they ran full and fast. Now there was this settling pond was less than a mile or so from my house. The canals that ran though out the area all gathered in this central pond and then branched out again. I think it was used to settle out suspended dirt, chemicals and cattle waste. That is why obviously its called a settling pond… it doesn’t take a genius to figure that one out does it? I know the people who would swim in this filthy water did it out of either desperation or ignorance; I claim both as my excuse.       

    I loaded my supplies and what I liked to think of as my “apparatus” onto a wagon early in the morning and proceeded to drag my gear the three quarters of a mile to the pond. I wanted to go early incase anyone else was around; the last thing I wanted was an audience that was strike one. Additionally I hadn’t told anyone about my plan; my parents, brother or friends had no idea what I was up to; strike two. When I got to the pond I set my “apparatus” up and placed about 20 pounds of rock in a back pack in order to weight myself down; this was strike three.

    Again it doesn't take a rocket scientist or genius to figure out what happened next. I started my contraption up, wearing the back pack and goggles I wadded out until the water was up to my neck, placed the tube in my mouth, turned the valve into the flow position and sat down. The first few seconds were great, no AMAZING. I was sinking into the muck, and I could see brown bubbles flowing up and swirling the sediment around my face. In retrospect it is really quite gross but to an excited 13 year old it is the pinnacle of coolness. I was Captain Nemo, Aqua-man, and Jacques-Yves Cousteau all rolled up in one. My first breath was absolutely amazing I knew I had mastered an entire new realm. It was with my second breath that I began to question the wisdom of my actions.

    I had been underwater for a grand total not to exceed 5 seconds, now this is nothing spectacular; in fact I can hold my breath for nine or ten times that length of time. I however failed to take into account that a 5 gallon sealed bucket only holds enough air for about one and a half breaths. I opened the valve and took my one breath as I sank and quickly exhaled ready open the valve in order to take my next breath. Upon turning the valve and receiving only half a breath I was immediately struck with the realization that I was sitting on the bottom of a dirty pond wearing twenty ponds of rock and gripping a piece of surgical tubing between my tightly clenched teeth.

    Needless to say I quickly saw the folly of my plan and made immediate efforts to remedy the potential damage to my person. I tried to slip out of the now wet and clingy weighted pack and untangle myself from the extra tubing. In the process I got myself turned around and slid even deeper into the muck. Now my shoes were stuck fast in the mud, and I was making every effort to get free. Now if some unlucky soul saw me at that moment they would never go in the water again; at least not into that settling pond. I am sure they would have sworn before a judge or priest. That it looked like a water buffalo was being attacked and thrashed about by a 20 foot salt water croc. It felt like I had been under water for over 10 minutes but in reality it was probably closer to 10 seconds. I finally burst from the water and took a breath of free air. I swam / trudged to the edge of the pond lay down in the mud and as I looked into the cold morning sky I began to seriously wonder about how I was going to walk the three quarters of a mile home, seeing as how I was muddy, cold and shoeless. The croc must have taken them!

    Now some would expect that an experience of this nature would put me off of underwater exploration. That would be far from the reality of my life, when I got home my dad gave me a strange look and hosed me down outside before directing me to the shower. When I got clean he was waiting for me at the table he drank a cup of coffee and a smiled as I told him about the “apparatus”. After explaining what had happened he told me that if I had asked him first he would have helped me build a better one using 55 gallon drums and he would have even driven me out to a clean lake to test it out. It was soon after that though that we moved from Nevada to the Seattle area where we both enrolled in SCUBA classes.

It was after having taking those classes and getting my own real and professionally built underwater breathing apparatus that my dreams of exploration grew even more grandiose. My visions of adventure were driven not only by my need to do crazy things but by a curiosity. I had been working for a little while and had enough money to fund most of my adventures. By this time my folks had stopped funding most of my crazier ideas; so this one was on my dime. I went to the hardware store and bought two large galvanized garbage cans, metal bars and a wide assortment of various parts to build an open water submersible vehicle.

    My first order of business after buying the “stuff” was to sketch out the initial design. Now some would have said design first buy stuff second… but that isn’t the way I work. I had planned on cutting the ends from the trash cans welding them together at the top to create an open tube. My next I cut and welded the metal bars into a handle to control two boards that would function as underwater planes helping to control my vertical movement. Additionally I had planed to mount one of my SCUBA tanks to the bottom of the "sub" and use that not only as ballast but as my main air supply. I had also figured on rigging a net on the top to hold the air bladders from two old buoyancy control vests that would also function to add control to my vertical movement.

    Now many people would assume I tried to do this in secret, however having wicked cool parents it wasn’t necessary. In fact my dad even went as far as to teach me how to weld. See my dad is an engineer who has been designing "real" vehicles and parts for years.

    I managed to build this beautiful monstrosity in my basement over the course of several months by myself with some technical support from my Pops. I don't think my folks were genuinely concerned about me getting hurt from using it mainly because I had never mentioned its propulsion system. I learned later on that they knew it wouldn't go any where because there was nothing to push it, and that was why they let me continue unabated. Now I had never mentioned its propulsion not because I didn't know what to use but because I knew exactly what I planned on using and I didn't want to have my little project halted.

    My father had bought a small electric trolling motor for our little Zodiac boat. This motor was exactly what I planned to use in my "sub". My project was all ready to go. I had carted it out to my little Nissan pickup truck and loaded it and all of my equipment all that was left was to weld the final mounting bracket to hold the trolling motor. I must mention that if you have never had the "pleasure" of welding galvanized metal trash cans you simply must try it. First of all galvanized metal produces a toxic gas when welded that must be ventilated otherwise it does bad things to your brain. It does bad things to your brain. It does bad things to your brain. Lucky for me I wasn’t effected… effected. Oh and trash can metal is so darn thin it melts into nothing almost at once. So you really don't even need to ask about the strength of my welds I will openly admit that several (most) broke as I lifted the "sub" into the back of my truck.   

    It was as I was welding the bracket to the end of my contraption that I began tripping the circuit breaker and drew my Dad's scrutiny. He came down to basement and went out the door to the side driveway where I parked to find me welding away. He examined my vehicle and asked when I planned on launching. I told him boldly and with a considerable amount of pride that I planned on going this afternoon after my buddy Chris got there. Well he looked the "sub" over and said he wanted to tag along. That immediately put me in a tough position, you see he had no idea that I had planned to use his trolling motor and further more had no idea that I had already “water proofed” it. The last thing I needed was for him to see me take off under water using his as I soon came to learn very expensive trolling motor.

    Now “water proofing” a trolling motor is really simple. I figured that what I really needed to do was set the switch to full power and then pack toilet bowl wax into electronics. I accomplished this with ease I was even able to get the top back on the control box. To start and stop the motor all I needed to do was connect and disconnect the battery wire. This was in my opinion the greatest coup of the entire project. I felt it displayed genius and ingenuity; a "thinking" out side the box kind of mind set if you will. All of this was passing though my mind as my dad happened to notice his battery box attached to the bottom of the "sub", he gave me a quizzical look and then looked in the cab of my truck where his motor was resting in the passenger seat.

    He walked over immediately and took the motor from the front seat and told me in no uncertain terms that his "very expensive" trolling motor was not designed to be used under water. It was at that point I think that he noticed the wax that was leaking out of every opening and crack on the control panel. He asked me for the keys to my truck (to ensure I was unable to make a fast escape) and proceeded to the basement work bench. I hesitantly followed him inside. I found him standing at the bench trying to breathe calmly as he examined his motor. He directed me in a near whisper bring him his battery. Upon returning from the truck with the battery I found him standing at the bench with the top of the control panel open looking at the mass of wax, a single tear welling up in his eye.

    It was at this point that I found myself drawn back in time almost 3 years to the bottom of muddy pond with a bag of rocks strapped to my back. I think I was almost safer sitting in the muck sucking on a piece of surgical tubing. Needless to say my "sub" project came to a crashing halt and the excess of money I was earning from my first job that I had been enjoying so much, quickly disappeared as I was driven to the local sporting goods store to purchase a new "expensive" trolling motor.

    In the end my "sub" never made it to the water, in fact it was dismantled by the end of the weekend; however it took several weeks to get rid of all of the junk. It wasn't that my parents made me to stop working on my "sub" or even mentioned any type of consequence other than replacing the trolling motor; I just felt like my need to explore other areas and other realms (like the entire west coast of the United States) calling to me even stronger. You should hear about the road trip to California that Chris and I made when we were 17, but that is for another time.