Life Below The Galapagos, Part 4

Digital Dan Dubno Ships Out And Prepares For His Deep-Sea Dive

(CBS)  The ascent now seems to take forever. We're cold and our legs, after nearly eight hours cramped in a tiny space, could really use a stretch. Yet I have this happy grin. "1000 meters." The bioluminents are dancing around again. "500 meters." Dan radios a precise science log detailing the accomplishments. He's preparing the science team for the sudden sprint to preserve all the precious samples from the sea floor. I think about Dr. Beebe and Mr. Barton who, back in the 1930s, astonished the world by setting the deepest dive record at the time in their Bathysphere. We have surpassed their 3,028 foot achievement many times over. We have seen an entirely new order of life even the fanciful Mr. Barton could not have dreamed of.

As we near the surface, the ocean moves from pitch black to dark cherry to purple, blue, then sky blue again. The launch is in the water and swimmers come out to greet us. The wait, before trivial, is now somewhat nauseating. We bounce like a cork as the divers search for an oil leak, perhaps, and secure some of the outrageous samples Pat has gathered from below. Slowly, way too slowly, the big ship Atlantis moves into position and the tow line is deployed. Divers attach the line and Alvin starts to zip along. The long thick "Spectra" tether is again wrapped around the big heavy hold point and Alvin is lifted up from the sea. We have returned.

One of the things sailors learn on the ocean is that their more experienced comrades are happy to "educate" them. When they pass the equator, for example, newbies are subjected to a ritual hazing with garbage and abuse from experienced "Shellbacks" and "King Neptune." So far, even perilously close to the equator, we have happily avoided this initiation. First-time divers on the Alvin, however, undergo a different initiation. Though it differs dive to dive, the idea is basically the same: dump gallons of frozen sea water on the head of the first-timer. Did I mention the frozen shoes? Oh, yes, your only pair of shoes is encased in a solid case of ice. My tormentors kindly added red and green gunk to the saltwater baptismal ... in honor of the Riftia hemoglobin and some other green sea guts only scientist-pranksters can understand. Frankly, I'm laughing and babbling and don't give a damn. Into the salt-water I go with a smile ... for I have been to the bottom of the sea.


Life Below The Galapagos, Part 1
Life Below The Galapagos, Part 2
Life Below The Galapagos, Part 3