Maiden voyage in doubles today!
I had picked them up from rjack's wife yesterday. I brought them home and tried to assemble the rig. It took three tries. The first time, I put the backplate on the bands and stood back to regard my handiwork. It didn't look right. Something was missing . . . Oh, yes, the WING.
Disassemble the whole thing and put the wing in. Once again ensure that the wing is as high as possible, and the tanks as low. Bolt it all together. Go to hook up hoses and discover that the corrugated inflator hose is on the wrong side. Hmm. Wing is in backwards.
Dissasemble the whole thing and put the wing it in the correct orientation. Bolt it all together. Hook up all hoses. Looks good from here.
Call husband to help me load doubles into the back of his car. He is wondering why I want them in the back of his car, since we aren't going anywhere, and I'm diving without him tomorrow. I explain that I want them in the back of his car because I want to put them ON and find out if I can walk in them. It will be embarrassing tomorrow if I arrive at the dive site and discover that I can't walk in my gear.
Turns out I can walk pretty well in them. I even go up a step. The likelihood that I will actually make it in to the water tomorrow is increasing.
The plan was to get in the pool this morning and play with them, and play with weighting, but it didn't happen for various reasons, among them my profound disinclination to get out of bed before I am forced to. So the assembled doubles (I'm afraid to take them apart) go into the back of the car, and I spend the morning trying to load the rest of my gear. I'm terrified of forgetting something important, because I have developed such a ritual for packing, and it's totally disrupted by the fact that the regulators and BC and tanks are already put together and lying on the tarp. Oh, by the way, one of the cool things about doubles is they don't roll in the back of your car.
So I arrive at the dive site, having gotten a phone call from my buddies to tell me they are even later than I am, due to northbound traffic on I-5, which resembles a megamall parking lot at Christmas. I use the time to hike to the ferry terminal to use the restrooms, which I need to do because I am so nervous. I also buy a Diet Coke on the way back, which kind of defeats the trip to the restroom, but gives me something to do while waiting. I watch two other cars full of divers gear up. One group is going crabbing, and has huge catch bags and crab measurers dangling from their gear. There's something primal about going down to catch dinner. I've found crabs very difficult to catch, even for fun.
Eventually my friends arrive, and begin to gear up. Now comes the next challenge -- can I stand up out of the back of MY car in these tanks. My car is far closer to the ground than Peter's, and this is not a given. As it turns out, I just can. I have been very careful to pile my fins and mask on top of the car, so I won't have to bend over once I have the tanks on, but I manage to drop a dry glove on the asphalt, so I have to face challenge #2: Can I bend over and pick something up with them on? The answer, to my surprise, is yes. Good to know.
I hike over to Richard's car and have him eyeball me, and he thinks everything is more or less okay. I head down to the water, because it is very hot, and I prepare to walk in. I inflate the wing and try to put my backup reg in my mouth, only to discover it is so far off to my right that I can barely get it in my mouth. This would not do in the face of an acute OOA emergency. I am not pleased. Richard points out to me, once he gets in the water, that the rig is about a foot away from my back in the posture I'm standing in, and everything is likely to be better once we are underwater. (He proves to be correct.)
I lie back to put my fins on, and discover that the myth about BP/W setups pushing you face down is precisely that in doubles. Not only does it not push you face down, but it requires significant effort to get off your back. If you relax, you are floating around on one of those inflatable chaise lounges they sell for pools. It's comfortable, but difficult to get anything done in that position.
So -- fins on, can light struck, we are ready to descend. I am worried about the descent. Tobin warned me that you have to begin controlling it way before you think, or you splat into the silt and make a complete idiot of yourself. So I am judicious about venting the wing, thinking it won't have to be empty to get down. I am wrong. Judicious results in floating. Maybe 12 pounds isn't enough weight? Eventually, with the dry suit cellophaned and the wing empty, I drift down and arrest my descent quite elegantly above the bottom. Another step successfully completed!
The next 30 minutes really resembled watching someone try to learn to ride a two wheeled bicycle. I was constantly trying to get my balance. I was either drifting into a head-down position, or flopping from one side to the other. My harness was too loose, and the rig could shift, and when two tanks decide to go east, you are going there. I haven't used my hands underwater in months, but I did today. I did not turn turtle, and I did not plow a furrow in the bottom with my head. I exceeded Richard's expectations -- he said when we surfaced, "I expected to go UP and DOWN and UP and DOWN and you didn't do any of that!" I did discover that rolling to the right to vent the drysuit is fraught with hazard, because unless you are vigilant, the tanks are going to join the Titanic and leave you like a pillbug on its back.
The dive itself was not exciting. We saw sole and juvenile herring and crabs, and some long skinny fish I think are gunnels and Richard thinks are something else. But it was not an amazing sea life kind of dive. And it was very clear how much more work you have to do to move that much mass through the water. My usual frog kick, that blasts me forward, seemed sluggish and ineffective.
I did manage to reach my left and right valves (it's EASY!) but the isolator is a challenge. The backup reg proved to be in perfect position once we were underwater. Clipping and unclipping the SPG with the doubles and the big wing was harder than it is with my singles rig, but doable.
And at the end of the dive, I stood up and walked out of the water, up the steps, and to the tailgate of Richard's truck without any help at all.
The bottom line is that I think I can dive these, and I think with a little tweaking they will trim out, and I may even like them.
And if an stringy and not terribly strong old lady can do it, it's pretty doable.
Cave 1 is a little closer on the horizon!
I had picked them up from rjack's wife yesterday. I brought them home and tried to assemble the rig. It took three tries. The first time, I put the backplate on the bands and stood back to regard my handiwork. It didn't look right. Something was missing . . . Oh, yes, the WING.
Disassemble the whole thing and put the wing in. Once again ensure that the wing is as high as possible, and the tanks as low. Bolt it all together. Go to hook up hoses and discover that the corrugated inflator hose is on the wrong side. Hmm. Wing is in backwards.
Dissasemble the whole thing and put the wing it in the correct orientation. Bolt it all together. Hook up all hoses. Looks good from here.
Call husband to help me load doubles into the back of his car. He is wondering why I want them in the back of his car, since we aren't going anywhere, and I'm diving without him tomorrow. I explain that I want them in the back of his car because I want to put them ON and find out if I can walk in them. It will be embarrassing tomorrow if I arrive at the dive site and discover that I can't walk in my gear.
Turns out I can walk pretty well in them. I even go up a step. The likelihood that I will actually make it in to the water tomorrow is increasing.
The plan was to get in the pool this morning and play with them, and play with weighting, but it didn't happen for various reasons, among them my profound disinclination to get out of bed before I am forced to. So the assembled doubles (I'm afraid to take them apart) go into the back of the car, and I spend the morning trying to load the rest of my gear. I'm terrified of forgetting something important, because I have developed such a ritual for packing, and it's totally disrupted by the fact that the regulators and BC and tanks are already put together and lying on the tarp. Oh, by the way, one of the cool things about doubles is they don't roll in the back of your car.
So I arrive at the dive site, having gotten a phone call from my buddies to tell me they are even later than I am, due to northbound traffic on I-5, which resembles a megamall parking lot at Christmas. I use the time to hike to the ferry terminal to use the restrooms, which I need to do because I am so nervous. I also buy a Diet Coke on the way back, which kind of defeats the trip to the restroom, but gives me something to do while waiting. I watch two other cars full of divers gear up. One group is going crabbing, and has huge catch bags and crab measurers dangling from their gear. There's something primal about going down to catch dinner. I've found crabs very difficult to catch, even for fun.
Eventually my friends arrive, and begin to gear up. Now comes the next challenge -- can I stand up out of the back of MY car in these tanks. My car is far closer to the ground than Peter's, and this is not a given. As it turns out, I just can. I have been very careful to pile my fins and mask on top of the car, so I won't have to bend over once I have the tanks on, but I manage to drop a dry glove on the asphalt, so I have to face challenge #2: Can I bend over and pick something up with them on? The answer, to my surprise, is yes. Good to know.
I hike over to Richard's car and have him eyeball me, and he thinks everything is more or less okay. I head down to the water, because it is very hot, and I prepare to walk in. I inflate the wing and try to put my backup reg in my mouth, only to discover it is so far off to my right that I can barely get it in my mouth. This would not do in the face of an acute OOA emergency. I am not pleased. Richard points out to me, once he gets in the water, that the rig is about a foot away from my back in the posture I'm standing in, and everything is likely to be better once we are underwater. (He proves to be correct.)
I lie back to put my fins on, and discover that the myth about BP/W setups pushing you face down is precisely that in doubles. Not only does it not push you face down, but it requires significant effort to get off your back. If you relax, you are floating around on one of those inflatable chaise lounges they sell for pools. It's comfortable, but difficult to get anything done in that position.
So -- fins on, can light struck, we are ready to descend. I am worried about the descent. Tobin warned me that you have to begin controlling it way before you think, or you splat into the silt and make a complete idiot of yourself. So I am judicious about venting the wing, thinking it won't have to be empty to get down. I am wrong. Judicious results in floating. Maybe 12 pounds isn't enough weight? Eventually, with the dry suit cellophaned and the wing empty, I drift down and arrest my descent quite elegantly above the bottom. Another step successfully completed!
The next 30 minutes really resembled watching someone try to learn to ride a two wheeled bicycle. I was constantly trying to get my balance. I was either drifting into a head-down position, or flopping from one side to the other. My harness was too loose, and the rig could shift, and when two tanks decide to go east, you are going there. I haven't used my hands underwater in months, but I did today. I did not turn turtle, and I did not plow a furrow in the bottom with my head. I exceeded Richard's expectations -- he said when we surfaced, "I expected to go UP and DOWN and UP and DOWN and you didn't do any of that!" I did discover that rolling to the right to vent the drysuit is fraught with hazard, because unless you are vigilant, the tanks are going to join the Titanic and leave you like a pillbug on its back.
The dive itself was not exciting. We saw sole and juvenile herring and crabs, and some long skinny fish I think are gunnels and Richard thinks are something else. But it was not an amazing sea life kind of dive. And it was very clear how much more work you have to do to move that much mass through the water. My usual frog kick, that blasts me forward, seemed sluggish and ineffective.
I did manage to reach my left and right valves (it's EASY!) but the isolator is a challenge. The backup reg proved to be in perfect position once we were underwater. Clipping and unclipping the SPG with the doubles and the big wing was harder than it is with my singles rig, but doable.
And at the end of the dive, I stood up and walked out of the water, up the steps, and to the tailgate of Richard's truck without any help at all.
The bottom line is that I think I can dive these, and I think with a little tweaking they will trim out, and I may even like them.
And if an stringy and not terribly strong old lady can do it, it's pretty doable.
Cave 1 is a little closer on the horizon!
My trim and buoyancy was essentially fine for my first dives in doubles, the only thing that got me was having to add more air. Instead of just a squirt, it's a bit more--or at least it was while descending.
I started out in a quarry in a 3mm full wetsuit with a SS backplate and double LP95s. Then again the deepest part of the quarry for that dive was ~23ffw and if you want to go deeper you'll need a shovel. Spent most of the dive hovering right off the bottom, so if my wing had suddenly died I could have easily gotten out of the harness and done a CESA if necessary (or just swim the rig up). So--no biggie. I'll get a drysuit someday...
