Originally I had a different introduction to this trip report. My introduction played somewhat on the controversy of the Andrea Doria-- it's reputation for difficulty, the legend, the lure and the myths associated with diving it and so on. I decided to re-write it after learning of Bill Schmoldt's death on the wreck on August 4, just one week after our trip. Rather than lead into our expedition trip report with my usual repertoire, I would like to make a few remarks about Bill, as he was an integral part of our trip this year on the Andrea Doria.
I first met Bill in Nantucket in preparation for a trip to the RMS Republic. He was co-captain and crew for the John Jack and met us at the marina since we had taken the ferry over. We were unable to get our vehicle over so we brought whatever we could in bags and boxes. We looked like a bunch of homeless people pushing carts around full of dive gear until Bill wheeled in driving Zero's red dive van. After a brief introduction, we started to load. My bag was extra heavy since Dave jammed it with his stuff.. When Bill picked it up he asked me if it were so heavy because of all my make-up and hairdryers. While I knew I should be used to these kinds of comments, I was totally offended and had to bite my tongue off to stop myself from making a rude comment. I let it go and the day went on. We stopped off a a cafe for breakfast and all started getting to know each other and sure enough I was beginning to see that Bill was an extremely intelligent, light-hearted guy with a good sense of humor. We spent the rest of the day hanging out at the Nantucket Whaling museum and toured around various parts of the island waiting for Zero to arrive with the John Jack. As the trip went on, I grew to like Bill more and more. I found his sense of humor refreshing and disarming-- suddenly the make-up comment seemed silly more than anything. Even I laughed.
We had quite an adventure on the Republic, but that is a different dive report. We all parted company making plans to dive this and to dive that. We all said good bye in Nantucket with hugs and smiles. We had the opportunity to dive with Bill a few more times before he was lost on the Doria. Every time I saw him, he was always offering to help with gear or anything you might need. He worked tirelessly for Zero and never once did I ever hear a compliant or negative comment from him. When we returned from the Doria exhausted from the long trip, he unloaded his car, which was full of boxes of old maritime books for Dave and I to look over-- and this was after unloading a whole boat's worth of dive gear as well as helping others load their cars. Just one week later, Bill was dead.
The tragedy of Bill's death begs so many questions that one must pause to reflect. He was one of the nicest people I have met in diving and we are still quite shocked by all of it. We will miss him dearly. No matter how many times you see this, it always hits a nerve and is tough to take. As I thought to myself once after attending the wake of a friend lost to a diving accident, how incredibly tragic it is that a life full of energy, excitement and plans has been stamped out. I find it hard to believe he is gone just as I find it hard to believe that the tattered piece of scrap paper I wrote his email address on before I left will elicit no reply. It is horribly sad and it always seems senseless-- for whatever reason the person ended up dead. But this I suppose is the nature of the business. What can you really say? Bill's death teaches an important lesson, one that every technical diver must understand: the most important thing you can bring back from the Doria is yourself. That is rule number one. There is a second rule. When in doubt, refer to Rule #1.
Some learn this lesson before leaving the dock, some learn the hard way and some people are marked and their time just has not yet arrived. I see it more and more as tech diving is packaged for the masses. You can buy the gear, you can buy the cards and if you kiss the right ass, you can buy the boat ride but you can never buy experience.
This dive report was written before Bill's death and without mention of the airlift at the end of our trip to lift a crew member with DCS off the boat. I'd rather leave that commentary out and attempt to focus, however difficult now, on the positive elements of the trip and the time we enjoyed with Bill, unaware that when the trip ended, we had said goodbye for good.
Our expedition July 28-29 expedition was a classic
Doria trip—veterans and first-timers abound we left the dock at 5 am aboard
the new John Jack, the weather having taken a turn for the better.
All week the 6-9 foot seas gave me indigestion.
I was not worried about a bumpy ride; I was worried about a complete blow
out. Last year our trip was cancelled due to wind and heavy seas
that just would not let up. We
spent three days in Block Island, mostly in Ballards.
The first two Doria trips for Zero had already blown out and ours was the
third coming down the line. “Three
strikes you’re out” or “third time’s a charm”-- it was anybody’s
guess. Saturday afternoon we
arrived in Snug Harbor to load up on the new John Jack.
If all went well, this would be the first Doria trip off the new boat.
We all wanted to see this trip happen.
The seas were still a good 4 feet and the forecast was all over the map.
While it was predicted to improve, it was still calling for 3-5’ seas
and there was just no way to tell if it was going to be “do-able”. The wind died down and then picked up again.
As evening settled in, it was blowing pretty hard.
Grim looks were appearing on everyone’s faces.
A few of us went to dinner and tried to ignore the flag. Jim told us the seas were going to be flat calm with no wind. I liked his forecast. We had a good dinner at “Cap’n Jack’s” restaurant. It’s about the only choice in the area. I ate and fielded phone calls from people who were lost as we had a last minute marina change. It seems that the reservation Zero made at a local marina was never recorded in their book and he scrambled for a last minute slip. We got back to the boat and settled everyone into their bunks. As the evening wore on the wind completely died and the seas subsided. At 5 am Zero and crew showed up and the boat came alive. We headed out of Snug Harbor to find flat seas with a ground swell and bright sunny skies.
As we got further out, the sea conditions got better
and better as a slight breeze flattened out the swell.
A great smooth ride out brought us to the Doria site in about 5 hours.
The distance was about 106 miles. When
we arrived on site, oil slicks appeared all around indicating a shipwreck lay
below us. Even today, the Doria
still leaks oil. After looking
around for the Seeker’s mooring, which was gone, we readied Bill Schmoldt to tie in.
We dropped the hook in the middle of the wreck and sent him in.
As more and more time passed, eventually passing 20 minutes, we knew the
tie-in was unsuccessful. Bill had done a
great tie-in on the U-Who but, he was back on our shitlist now! The shot
line had moved 180 feet in the wrong direction.
We figured it hit the hull and slid or was pulled off in the current.
As it turns out, 1 ½ hours later this is what we were told by Bill.
Next, Tex from Brooklyn, NY was suited up to tie-in.
This would be his first dive on the Doria, talk about trial by fire….
We patiently waited on the surface and at almost 20
minutes, Dave and I gave each other that “we’re next” look.
Just as I was about to ask Zero if we should get ready, the lift bag
broke the surface. We were tied in
and the pool was open. Immediately,
everyone got into action. The long
delay meant only one dive was possible without running into the evening but
people were still eager to dive. We
suited everyone up one after another and fired them in the water like depth
charges. Dave and I got ready along
with Capt. Hank—we like to wait until the commotion is over and have the wreck
to ourselves. Not to mention it’s
a real pain dealing with sharing a line with lots of divers.
Dave and I passed the divers on deco and headed down the line.
There was a mild current on the surface but clear vis.
As we passed through the thermocline, we were
surprised to find the visibility diminish to about 15-20 feet.
The water was dark too. Divers
had previously reported better vis. The
day was wearing on at it was about 3 pm when we got in.
We dropped down deeper and deeper. At
about 150 feet the started to come into view.
The massive hull appeared like a huge runway underwater. The current also picked up and like hit hard.
The line started going straighter out rather than straight down.
You had to pull hand over hand down the line and it was tough.
When we reached the wreck, we took a quick breather to rest.
It is easy to get winded when the current hits so hard and its easier to
slow down for a minute than to wear yourself down pushing too hard.
We dropped down the face of the wreck and the current subsided. We pretty much had no idea where we were on the wreck.
Tex just tied into the first good spot on the hull he saw.
It seemed to be at midships but favoring which end was unclear.
We saw some tiles and tried to hack a few off but they just shattered
into small pieces when picked at. Oh
well. We continued to explore that
area with no clue what was what. It
seems that the deck of the wreck is peeling off so that you have the hull lying
on its side, with a large debris field forming right next to it. The
structure is collapsing so that all around in what used to be the deckhouse area
and corridors along the promenade is just twisted metal.
It’s hard to recognize anything and navigating the wreckage or
penetrating without a line is becoming harder to do.
At twenty minutes bottom time, we started a long ascent.
We had a smooth deco as the conditions were nice.
The current has swung around and still going pretty good.
We surfaced and Zero headed in for his dive.
Everyone got their gear swapped over, took naps or hung out.
We relaxed for a while and got ready to prepare dinner once Zero
returned. It was looking to be
gorgeous night on the water as the seas were flat calm now.
Sure enough about 1 ½ hours later Zero surfaced with a few puny
lobsters. No big ones like on the u
boat were to be found. We fired up
the generator and got dinner cooking. We
feasted on another great meal prepared by Dave’s mom. Then we busted out some delicious brownies from an Italian
bakery in East Boston courtesy of my mother.
The baker says it’s a secret family recipe and he won’t pass it on
even though he is the last one. I
guess that means its ok to eat lots of them since they won’t last….
We settled into our bunks hoping for another great
day. Jim’s predication was just
right so we asked him what the next day was going to be like.
He said, “Just like this.” No
argument here. When we woke up the next morning though, the weather sure had
changed. Jim blew it.
Isolated thunderstorms and lightening woke us at 5 am and the wind shift
brought a building 2-4’ sea with it. Since
Dave and I were sleeping on the fold out table bunk, we are the last to go to
bed and the first up. We figured
we’d take advantage of this since we the weather was not going to get any
better. Bill had high hopes of pulling up a window so he splashed
first. Dave, Hank and I got our
acts together and started getting ready next.
Most everyone else was still sleeping and a few others were having their
morning coffee and sh—s. If that
wasn’t a good reason to get ready fast, I don’t know what is.
Dave and I splashed and found the current to be truckin’ pretty good.
It was running opposite the way the boat was laying so we got spun around
and had to back down the line. It’s
an awkward way to drop down since you can’t see real well but you gotta do
what you gotta do. The tension and
vibration on the line was strong with the current and building seas but we
reached the wreck uneventfully. Since
the current was so strong right from the get-go, we were able to pace ourselves
so we did not get winded or overexert.
We reached the hull and there was still a lot of
current. The wreck lies at about
190 feet, it’s sinking into the muck and is getting to be a more difficult
dive all the time. Anyway, we
started swimming along the hull and the current was trying to sweep us off.
I thought of the Empress and the wild currents and tough swims there and
considered what the swim back would be like on the Doria at 190’.
I signaled to Dave and gave him the “F- this we are going the other way
signal”. He got the message and
agreed. We turned around, swam back
and dropped down the face again. We
encountered Bill who was swimming around looking for his window.
We all swam around the same area, which ended in a debris field at about
230 feet. Bill was working in this area,
but did not retrieve his artifact. This was the deepest
point in this area, although we stuck to the 210-220’ range were the some
interesting things were. Zero and
Hank figured out where we were, which was right next to Gimbel’s hole. It has since collapsed and it is hard to recognize now.
Basically we were in the first and second-class area, not too far from
the bow section. Anyway, the 20-minute mark came up again and it was time to
head up. The deco was smooth for
the most part, as the only real pain was the current.
As we got closer to the surface you could tell the seas had increased but
it was still a comfortable deco. Dave
finished his deco and headed up. I
tacked a few extra minutes on to my deco just for good measure and then headed
up at 91 minutes. I popped up and
got aboard. By then the seas were
cranking pretty good as a solid 4-5 foot sea was steaming through.
Once all the divers completed their decompressions, Zero and a mate went
in for a dive and to pull the hook.
Zero was the last to surface after a long dive and we
fired up the big diesels to head home. We
started backing down to snap the thin nylon line used in this tie-in system.
While Zero usually cuts 2 out of the 3 strands of the junk line before
coming up after pulling the chain out, he only cut 1 ½ today.
For some reason the ladder was still in the water and cutout in the
transom still open. When the line
snapped, the jolt caused some poorly secured gear to break loose.
About 10 stage bottles came loose and unfortunately, one of our steel 72
oxygen bottles went over the side. I
was pissed but there was nothing I could do.
Often gear is moved and swapped in and out and things are not secured the
same way or as well when put back. Unfortunately
for Dave and I, some our gear took the fall.
Once we got underway, we enjoyed a comfortable ride back to Snug Harbor. Overall we feel the trip was a great success. The weather cooperated just long enough and we all made great dives. The Andrea Doria is still a great dive and over the next few years those who venture out to the site will find the wreck continuing to rapidly change-- the tie-ins are not as easy now as most of the time the weight slides off the smooth hull; twisted metal and debris fields are new challenges in addition to the old. The famous Gimbel’s hole is gone and china is harder than ever to find and recover. But the Doria will endure.....