Black Coral Diving in the Early ‘70s

Working at depths of 250 feet on compressed air

                      is precarious.

     Time on bottom is limited to scant minutes.

                  Nitrogen Narcosis befuddles the mind, inhibits clear

                                      thinking and the

                     deadly bends disease is a constant threat if one

   stays too long or ascends too rapidly.

                                                *     *     *

Many years ago while working as a commercial diver in California stories about the Black Coral divers came to my attention. One of the abalone divers that I was working with at the time, Chuck Brugman had lived some time in Hawaii and dove black coral. The tales that he related were  about the incapacitating results of the bends, embolisms, and dives that had gone wrong. The worst stories of all were of young divers that disappeared and never returned to the boat.

Most of the Black Coral divers had no formal training as to the physiology of diving and the medical problems that might arise. Harvesting the coral required them to descend to 200 feet on compressed air and without  the knowledge of decompressing they suffered crippling injuries. Chuck moved his family back to the mainland to find other underwater work that was less dangerous than the deep diving required to get black coral.

        Nearly twenty years later I arrived in Maui and was offered the opportunity to dive with some of the coral divers of that time. By then they were more aware of the problems involved with deep diving and were carefully decompressing but were still pushing the limits on every dive. They saw that I was photographing underwater subjects and invited me to go along on several dives. My trepidation was overcome by the enthusiasm of photographing their hunt and I said yes.

            Black Coral Tree – about 5 ft high - 250 ft deep

Ray Sousa prepping for the dive. His Hawaiian style back pack carries duel air cylinders. Although he will only be on bottom 10 to 12 minutes that time will be spent racing across the bottom to find and cut a tree, or hopefully two, attach it to a float bag which he will inflate by taking his demand regulator out of his month while holding his breath and inserting it in the float bag-opening, then turning on the purge valve with a full-blast to start the bag inflation. Cutting down trees requires heavy breathing, care must be taken that he doesn’t start gasping because demand regulators do not provide air quick enough to do much gasping. On his weighted belt he carries a hatchet and a short handled sledge. Hard to see but its there as is his decompression meter. 

 When the diver has selected the tree he wants he kneels and places the hatchet against the base of the tree where it is to be chopped off. Then with the hand sledge he strikes the hatchet, usually several times because the base is thick and swinging a sledge underwater with force requires a tremendous effort; An effort that sometimes causes the sound of a ringing bell within one’s head when the blow is struck. Quickly gathering up his tools he and the coral tree ride the float bag back to the surface. Items that you will not see in the photo are buoyancy control devices-no alternate air source-or inflators - no emergency regulator- these accessories were still unknown in the 70's. Even with the added weight of the tools that he carries the ride up with the float bag ensures a quick effortless ascent. 

                                       Sousa ready to go.

      Usually two divers would start the descent together although they would work independently each ascending separately as soon as they had finish gathering their coral. On all the dives I made with them I teamed with Ray. Without GPS we used the ancient system of finding the dive spot by sighting line-ups commonly used by lobster fisherman as well as divers and other fisher folk that want to go back to their favorite fishing hole. I was well versed in the method but it functions best when working close to shore and we were some three miles off Maui in the middle of the ‘Au’au Channel. There was some mildly heated discussion as to whether it was this tree or that tree that supposed to be lined up with the broken fence line and what tall pole to put in line with which gully. I asked Ray how deep the dive was going to be and he replied, “Well, maybe only 180 feet if we hit the top of the pinnacle but if we miss it we’ll have to go to the floor and that will be 250 feet.” That was about what I expected. My only concern was about leakage of the camera which was only guaranteed to 150 feet. One of the basic rules of diving with compressed air is to not ascend faster that your bubbles or descend faster than you would ascend. Possibly that rule was not known or else was ignored on all the dives that I made with them. The added weight of the tools ensured a quick effortless descent. Ray quickly disappeared into the blue depths. While following his bubbles I kicked my way down comfortably, saving my ears and sinuses for another day. We never saw the pinnacle but the tail of bubbles led me to Ray who was scurrying rapidly across the bottom to select the tree he wanted. The long pole is a spear carried in case of shark problems.

While he hustled across the floor I started shooting and saw that the strobe was only working sporadically but I kept working it anyway. As soon as I was on the bottom I noticed I had the biggest head of Nitrogen Narcosis that I had ever had the opportunity to experience. It became even more apparent when I noticed that some of the buttons on the camera were laughing at me. I laughed back and kept working, shooting objects in my surroundings, a tree here and a tree there waiting for Ray to make up his mind as to which tree he was going to knock off. Intermittently while inhaling I would hear a clear, pure, resounding sound of a church-like bell. I never knew if it was in my head or a noise from the regulator.

Deep Blue and quiet.

                     Bart O'Conner one of the other divers glides by.

Looking back at Ray I saw that he had knocked off his first tree of the dive.

                           

And then he gathered some loose pieces.

After removing a second tree he paused for a victory pose. We had been down about 8 minutes and our time was running out. I was so zonked that I was fixated on the school of little black fish under his left arm and wondering why they don’t go to the shallows.

The first tree is launched on a float bag.

 

Another float bag is inflated and the second tree and heavy tools are hooked on and we soon climb on the elevator going up.

  Ascending 

At a depth of 75 feet we dropped off of the float bag. It was rising quicker as the air in it expanded. We kicked our way slowly up and reconnected with the float bag at 25 feet where we attached to a tail line. I checked my decompression meter and saw that the black needle was deep in the red. We decompressed at 25 feet for some time before moving up to 20 feet. When the black needle was not so deep in the red we ascended to 10 feet of depth and repeated the process. Before the needle was totally out of the red Ray kicked to the surface and got out of the water. I waited another five or 10 minutes and once it was in the white I climbed back aboard the boat. I don’t remember how long we decompressed it’s been some years.

       The divers decompress holding to the float bags

      so the boat operator knows where they are.

          Ray and Bart with the days catch and headed home to Lahaina Maui. 

Once tied up in the harbor the work goes on.

The cleaning and preparing for market. 

And what do you do on a day off? Go for a boat ride on a black boat.  

Terry Stafford, Ray Sousa and Tony Harrington

                                                                                                       Photos: Bud Hedrick

                In Memory of those free spirits.

     Mike King, Ray Sousa, Tim LeBallister, Tony Harrington,

Jimmy Tam Sing, Terry Stafford, Bart O’Conner, Jose Angel.

           Some are still with us but most are gone now.

I hope you have enjoyed this post if so feel free to pass it on.

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Making Waves

                                       

       My Friend Harold Meeski, art director at the USAF Base in Torrejón, Spain showed up at my apartment in Madrid one afternoon with his arms full of sculpting tools and a kilo of bee's wax  and said, "I'm here to cure you of your frustrations caused by bullfighting politics."       Harold was well apprised of the problems that I had been going through as an outsider living in Spain and trying to put together a vocation as a Matador. He had been a big help in many ways. For one thing he owned a car and we would tie torero's tools, capes, swords and bull fighter's suits on the top and load the car with my crew; two banderilleros, a sword handler, my manager and sometimes a photographer and then Harold would drive us long distances through the night to bullrings in remote provinces.     "What am I supposed to do with all this wax?" I asked.       

     "Model it..Make sculpture. It will calm you, quiet you, rest you and make you feel good." he replied.    "Make sculptures of what"    "The things you love and miss most!"..............And I turned my hand and mind to memories of California and the beautiful waves that rise and then crack on the beaches, and sooth me it did.

     These first efforts were photographed by Dick Metz when he passed through Madrid in 1960

               A collection of  bee's wax sculptures awaiting the bronze casting process. 


                            And here are some of my more recent wave sculptures .

    Another wax wave, waiting to be cast in bronze shows a wave colliding with back-wash. 
                       The centuries old process used is called, lost wax casting.                                                                                               

                    This piece having been cast in bronze is being prepared for the Patina

                              Having been washed in potash and cleaned of residue it is ready

                                      for the heat and chemicals that will create the color.

      The magnificent colors seen here are caused by the blazing heat and will disappear when cooled.

Glass Wave – Sits on a light box .

 Wave # 34

Newport Wedge  #2

                                                            Colliding Wave

A rendition of  Kelly's Machine Wave

Broken Wave

Wave  # 32

Wave  #36   Back Wash

Close-up of the burnished patina

Bronze Contents

                                                                                Photos by Bud Hedrick

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Schooners and the Vagrant Gypsy Life

I must go down to the sea again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,
And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea's face, and a grey dawn breaking.

I must go down to the sea again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.

I must go down to the sea again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull's way and the whale's way, where the wind's like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over.

                                                   ….Sea Fever by poet John Masefield

As a lad in early teens little did I care for poetry but before finishing the first stanza of Sea Fever the lines so paralleled my hopes and desires that I was captivated. Even now some seventy years later I am “not tired of the Pacific Ocean yet, and remember those times when still a boy we would drive by the harbor in Newport Beach and see the big Alden schooners, The Constellation, the Puritan, Errol Flynn’s Zaca, the black hulled Vega and sometimes the Goodwill, all of them moored together in the turning basin.

          I confess I still have the fever…

The Alden schooner Constellation was built in 1932 in Maine but spent many active years on the West coast and under the ownership of Sally Blair Ames won her class in the Transpac Race of 1959

The Brigadune a San Francisco based schooner crossing  the bay.

The schooner Mariah was a fine Alden Yacht of 70 feet built in Maryland in 1931. Under command of her owner Phineas Sprague she completed a four-year circumnavigation. The vessel was in Tahiti at the same time as two other Alden designed stay-sail schooners, the Mayan and the Golden Hind and of course a friendly competition occurred.

Previously we had sailed alongside the Golden Hind several times in Hawaii and knew her to be swift and astutely sailed by her crew.  Here she is off Lahaina, Maui, rail down and trucking.

Built in Essex Connecticut. in 1926 the Golden Hind was small, only forty-six feet on deck, but my how she could fly when she had that bone in her teeth!

          The third schooner involved in the race that day was the vessel Mayan, also designed by John Alden. It was our responsibility, home away from home and work place, off and on for some 20 years.

The three schooners spent a weekend anchored in front of the Bali Hai Hotel on the Island of Moorea and someone suggested we all sail back to Papeete together. Nothing was said about a race you understand, but boys will be boys and no one cared to be last and as we diced back and forth through the open sea suddenly everyone wanted to come in first. All of the crews worked frantically hoping to find a lift in the wind or a way to blanket the breeze of their opponents but for 20 miles none of the boats could find an edge and we stayed together as one.  

Approaching the entrance to the harbor it became apparent that none of the boats would arrive with a lead; we would all be squeezing through the narrow entrance together. With precision the three schooners closed rank and at one point were close enough together that a person could have jumped from one boat to another.

It was a lovely Sunday afternoon in port and the quay was alive with people; Tahitians, French and an occasional tourist strolling the quay during the last minutes before the sun set. Cheers from shore resounded as we cleared the entrance with all sails set and three abreast. It was apparent that it would be tight running the length of Papeete harbor three abreast. We all "came about" together continuing in the same direction toward the far end of the harbor but suddenly we were on different tacks, two boats on a starboard tack and one on a port tack.  We would have to cross paths on this point of sail. Three times we crisscrossed, threading the needle each time. The cheers and shouts from the onlookers grew with each maneuver.  It was happening fast and today I don't recall how we altered the positions of the boats as we threaded the needle back and forth but always the timing was perfect and the path was always clear. Arriving at the end of the harbor all boats would have to come up into the wind and drop sail simultaneously.

I yelled to the crew, “We are coming about and all sails have to come down at the same time!”  But they were already at their positions standing by the halyards, wearing big smiles and waiting for the nod.

“Helms over,” I called and as the bow turned into the wind the sails came down fast. The Mayan slowed to a stop. A quick glance at the other two boats showed that they too had dropped sails and were barely moving through the water. All three crews were busy furling sails, coiling lines and making everything shipshape. A deckhand was already getting out mooring lines and dock bumpers. “Are you going to start the engine?” he asked. The boat lay quiet in the water only 15 feet away from the wharf and the wind was drifting us slowly sideways toward the dock. “It won't be needed,” I replied. The bumpers were put over and as the breeze gently set us against the dock he tossed the mooring lines to one of the delighted spectators and we were soon secured. 

As for the race it was a three way tie. The three Alden schooners, like sisters, refused to be separated in spite of our efforts. The town’s people excitedly gathered on the wharf viewing the boats for several hours and provided us with Hinano beer which was graciously accepted. Animated they took turns telling us what a pretty sight it had been watching the tacking duel.

The occasion of the race has sometimes been referred to as the “Alden Day Regatta of 1974”. Carrick and Henderson in their fine book, ”John G. Alden And His Yacht Designs” refer to it as such but it wasn’t a regatta and it hadn’t been planned; only a lively afternoon sail among friends and a much enjoyed spectacle by the people in Papeete.

The Golden Hind, Mayan and Mariah - “Who will give an inch?”

Thirty kilometers of dicing 

Mariah and the Golden Hind

A bit of a sad note. Ships, like people, don’t last forever. And the “Golden Hind” was one of 38 boats destroyed in Papeete by Hurricane Zeena in 1983.

 The “Mariah”, caught in massive seas in a gale off Cape May met her end when the schooner floundered, opened up and sank. Luckily the crew was saved by the Coast Guard. The Mayan lives on and is active on the California coast.

We were awaiting the arrival of the owner of the Mayan who was to fly in to sail back to Hawaii with us. Two weeks after the event I received a telegram from him saying that he was too busy and couldn’t get away. Instead we were to bring the boat back to San Francisco. Two days later we cleared customs and left Papeete, destination San Francisco by way of Hawaii, a 5000 mile passage.

Mayan with the spinnaker set,  this time off of Cozumel Mexico.

The Sea Runner was 55' on deck and built as a half-size of the Gloucester Schooner Elsie.

It was a gaff headed yacht and seen here with 7 sails set.

Sea Runner again. Notice the man working aloft on the main mast.

Bob Wilson the owner of the Sea Runner was a rare and unusual man. Some said that he was funny and others peculiar, the hippies love him and called him far out. He was known to single-hand his schooner on occasion but said in his own defense, “Well, I didn’t have anybody to help me.” During the seventies he lived aboard with his two young daughters who seemed to miss a lot of school but learned to handle a schooner and grew into fine human beings. In this picture I don’t know if he has tied the wheel down and is single-handing but I wouldn’t put it past him. Once he sailed into Scammons Lagoon and ran aground. It took him several days to kedge it off and get out. When asked why he remarked, “I wanted to show the girls where the Grey whales go to birth,” ...........He was a crazed man and I miss him!

Moving from the biggest to the smallest schooners. This the beautiful little yacht the Elizabeth Miur was designed by Eldrideg-McEnnis, built in Bolinas Bay Ca. by Babe Lamberdin and John Linderman and launched in Sausalito.  In this picture it has a gaff-rigged fore-sail which was later changed to the more modern Bermuda rig.

Now you see the same vessel with the Bermuda fore-sail which simplified sail handling... What a lovely little yacht.

The Goodwill was designed by the naval architect  H.J. Geilow and launched in 1922.  A large schooner of 161 feet.  It made two Atlantic Crossings and an extended cruise to the south Pacific before WW 2 when it was leased to the Navy and commissioned as a Naval vessel and assigned duty on coastal patrol. During the war it had been badly abused. Once released from service it was lovingly  restored back to a yacht level again and then was often seen in southern California waters. It won the Trans-Pacific Yacht race to Hawaii twice once in '53 and again in '59. Tragedy happened while returning from a cruse to Mexico when it struck the Sacramento Reef off of Baja during the night and was lost along with the owner and all of the crew.

Let’s take a look at Scow Schooners. Before the bridges were built across the S.F. bay all commerce was moved by sailing craft. These flat bottomed barges with blunt bows powered only by sail traveled up the river to Petaluma for hay and eggs, to the rail heads in Tiburon, Sausalito and Richmond and to Sacramento for trade. They were unique in that they could take a load of hay (mule and horse petrol) 15 feet high on board and the crew would stand on it while steering and sailing their craft. Because of the square shaped bow these vessels were sometimes called “Square-toed Packets” and other times “Hay Scows”.  Although the need for them has passed, San Francisco occasionally gets to enjoy the sight of two of them sailing across the bay. They are the historic packet “Alma” and the newer “Gaslight”.

The Alma out for an afternoon sail on San Francisco Bay.

Recently the Alma was seen sailing up the Petaluma River.

The other Scow Schooner in the Bay Area is the lovely “Gaslight”. Sailing smartly in front of the Sausalito waterfront.

Another river passage this time by “Gaslight”

Well that’s probably enough story about schoonering lets get to the Vagrant Gypsy part.

The crew of the “Tatoosh” were known for being the best undressed Gypsys in Hawaii.

Clear Horizon

Fore Deck at Sunset

Quiet Gunkhole

Huahini Anchorage, French Polynesia

Tied to the quay in Papeete

Mayan in the Rain

At rest in Captain Cook's Bay 

Now don't laugh! If a man's home is his castle then this is our man's Yacht!

                                              All Photos by Bud Hedrick - except the Tatoosh Crew.                                                 I think that might be Robbie Wilson's photo.

                       I hope you have enjoyed this blog. If so please pass it on to others.

             And if you haven’t read the book it is:

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