By Capt Heather Knowles
I rolled off the boat, piercing the quiet calm surface as I departed from the clear blue cloudless sky hanging above our heads. Beginning our descent into a seemingly still and empty canyon of cold green water, knowing it would soon become clear this watery realm was anything but empty, we slid down the line into the virtual night, through the murky, dark moods of the river until slowly emerged the ghostly giant sleeping below– the Empress of Ireland.
Arriving on the wreck, I remember the Empress just the same as when I departed nearly one year ago– the giant sweeping hull and the rows of portholes amidst a blanket of growth, swaying gently in the motion of the water. Emerging from the darkness, eyes focusing to the night, the huge ship revealed herself. We had dropped through the dark and cold water, to arrive at a distant place… we had returned to the Empress of Ireland.
Our dives began in the mid-section of the ship, between the blast hole that was created long ago for salvage purposes and the doors into the first class dining area along the hull. The current was non-existent and this was both a pleasant surprise and treat for us, especially given last year’s outrageous current early in the week. We were familiar with the area right away and began our plunge down the face of the ship, passing the teak wood decking and remaining rails deeper and deeper. The visibility was not more than 5-10 feet at any given time and thermoclines and haloclines distorted the remaining visibility into a disorienting shimmer of blurry water. Our lights fighting the overwhelming onslaught of darkness as we descended into the abyss of the Empress, we found ourselves in front of the opening leading to the once Grand Staircase. This was a beautiful feature of the ship, its sweeping bannisters and wide steps once fanned out in a graceful elegance that epitomized the golden age of steamer life. All that remains now are the silt covered wooden bannister and the bottom step. Collapsed decks and the trials of time have taken their toll.
We continued our descent, dropping over another rail, sliding down along the long since fallen mast. As we neared 120 ft, the visibility became murky and even the powerful lights we carried swallowed the glow until Dave and I appeared as dimly lit apparitions moving through the dark water. By now, the 32 degree water on the bottom was penetrating our layers of insulation and the cold was setting in. The result of a accident a few years ago, my right index finger goes numb in cold water in a very short time, even though the rest of my hand remains warm. By this time, the stinging cold was making simple tasks more difficult. We rose to the rail and began our ascent.
Upon our return aboard Jean-Pierre’s boat, we chattered with excitement over the trip’s first dives to the wreck. Lee and Jeff had enjoyed their dives, as did Simon and Tom. Coming off of 11 dives on the wreck last year, Dave and I were feeling very good about both the first dives and those yet to come. We suited up again after a re-warming period and dropped back in. Upon reaching the wreck, the familiar portholes stood out from the dark like tired eyes longing for visitors. We clipped off our strobe lights and dropped down the face again.
We swam to the forward section of the ship, near the helm station that once overlooked the magificant bow, the view to the open sea through which the Empress once sailed. Now, the dark silty water blinds distant sight like very the fog that shrouded the Empress on her fateful night. Swimming along the deck, I glanced at the planks of wood, some as solid as the day the were installed, others jutting out as if to fall away, and wondered what it would have been like to walk the decks of the ship. We continued our swim, though the visibility was considerably diminished from the tide change, until we grew cold once again. There was a distinct thermocline between the deck of the ship and the top of the hull. It was ferociously cold on the deck, but on top of the hull, the temperature climbed to a sweltering 39 degrees. Hard to believe it may be, but this was a heat wave and I was able to press on, fighting off the cold for another few minutes once we entered this “warm” water. We swam aft to the blast hole, swimming its perimeter and dropping inside for a quick peek. Given this was the end of the second dive, we opted not to venture too far. We swam leisurely back along the sweeping hull, and began our rise to the surface.
Everyone satisfied with their dives, we departed the wreck site for our journey back to the marina. We unloaded our equipment with the help of carts, but climbing up a long gangway with a set of 120s on certainly has that “longest mile” feel, especially after a day of diving. We made plans to have dinner with Jean-Pierre and Simon in a town about 30-40 min away. Everyone was in the mood for seafood and if you have ever been to Rimouski, you’d know that this is a premier place for it.
We caravaned to the restaurant and everybody (but me) chowed down on escargot, lobster, crab legs, shrimp, scallops, mussels, fish. You name it; they ate it. I, however, had steak. Since I developed an allergy to shellfish a few years ago, my choices in a place like this have become fairly simplified. Nevertheless, everyone enjoyed a great meal and highly amusing conversation. We sauntered back to the hotel around 10 pm, and crashed hard in preparation for day two.
We started our day bright and early with breakfast at the Hotel L’Empress. We took our time, however, as Jean-Pierre had some Nipigon business to attend to. The ship is scheduled for sinking at the end of July and it is nearly ready. The upper masts and structure have been removed to allow for 40 ft of clearance at low tide and lots of holes have been cut in it to permit easy entry to the interior. We loaded up as soon as we could and departed for the Empress in another gorgeous day. The water was so flat that not a ripple could be seen. No wind, no current, no waves. Jeff couldn’t believe his eyes and we assured him this was not the norm.
Upon arriving on the wreck site, the buoys floated limply as a few seals popped up around the boat. As I scurried for the camera, Dave started with this “Arp, arp, arp” sound flapping his arms and the seal near the boat took off. So much for that I guess. We suited up and one by one, and slowly entered the water. Since Dave and I were heading in last, we were chomping at the bit to get in. For some reason, whenever I am on the Empress in nice conditions, I have this sense of urgency to get in before something changes. Last year, during the 30 minutes we were underwater, the conditions went from flat calm to four to six foot seas. One minute we were lounging around the boat with not a ripple in the water, the next minute we were surfing off waves as walls of water poured down upon us as we raced back to the dock.
Anyway, at last our turn came and we had the camera all spooled up with brighter lights. It was so nice we actually tied off to the stern of the boat. We rolled off the boat and descended down the line, with not an effort except for dumping air from our wings. It was awesome. Normally you need to practically wrap a rope around your arm and then hope it is not yanked off as you and your 200 lbs of gear hit the flowing water.
We dropped down the line and it got quickly and progressively darker. The visibility also diminished to a few feet. Ah, there was a price to pay for this treat on the surface. But, when you dive the Empress, this is part of the deal. It didn’t matter though, because we were there and it was time to dive. We descended again and entered the opening leading to the grande staircase. Dave and I swapped the camera and I followed him inside as he went to investigate a handrail a little further in from the staircase. The visibility was not good, however, and it was another one of those deals where I was just trying to keep my eye on Dave let alone anything else. For some reason, the visibility was very poor inside this part of the wreck, even before we got there. I tried to film something but I couldn’t see but 2 or 3 feet in front of me, hovering over an abysmal hole in the ship, I thought it was a good time to move along. Dave didn’t venture too far, especially without a line so we backed up and swam aft towards the boiler area. Most of the deck inside is collapsed down to the Shelter deck, which is where a lot of first class accommodations were located in this section of the ship.
We rose back up to the rail and once again swam around the blast hole. The wreck is just ripped open here and jagged metal edges jut out from all around. The blast hole was created shortly after the sinking to recover the ship’s safe where there were valuable silver ingots encased. By now we were growing cold and our hands were beginning to hurt so we returned to the anchor line, collected our stages and began our ascent. Back on the boat we hung out and warmed up. The sun was shining and it was a beautiful day. Everyone was making a second dive so one by one everyone began to suit up again. There was still no current and although the visibility suffered for this, it was still something to roll off the boat and just fall down along the line effortlessly.
We descended down the now familiar line for our second dive of the day, this time without the camera. We had decided that we would split up the time on the camera since it slows us down quite a bit when we want to cover distance on the wreck. We clipped off our strobes and dropped over the side. We dropped down past the staircase opening to the skylight opening. The visibility was very bad. The closer you get to the bottom, the worse the visibility becomes. Down around 120-130 ft, the visibility becomes cloudy in such a way that your light bounces off it like a shield. Trying to see something and keep an eye on Dave, it was slow going. We swam forward but the lack of visibility made discerning anything difficult. We were near the forward helm area of the ship, which is only distinguishable by the wood rail that runs perpendicular to the ship. We retraced our steps easily, now comfortable in this area. With little to no current, the dive changes dramatically. When I think of last year, as we were dragging ourselves down the wreckage, trying to hang on with one hand and remain oriented in the blinding silt, it is just a different dive. Lee remarked this same thing to Jeff about his experience last year. Jeff got to see and do a lot more because of the slack current.
We all returned to the surface and headed back to the marina. We decided to give the “Maison du Spaghetti” another shot despite our ill feelings towards the place from last year. We had terrible service last year and had decided to skip Italian this time around. But, everybody was in the mood for some carbs I guess– after all the cold water (surface temps around an average of 37-41 degrees depending on the tide), turned up our metabolism. We headed over to the restaurant and enjoyed an excellent meal, with a very nice waitress who was accommodating of our lack of speaking abilities. The Maison du Spaghetti redeemed itself. Tom was heading home early so we bid him a farewell.
We planned for an 8:30 am start so we returned to the hotel and crashed out. Tuesday was Lee and Jeff’s last day with us and we were unsure how the diving would go that day. It was windy in the morning and the forecast was not good. We figured we would get one dive in and then have to beat it. We headed out to the Empress and the waves grew in size. Slow, but building, rollers greeted us and made it a bumpy ride. It was not looking too good at first but then suddenly, it stopped. By the time we arrived on the Empress, the river was calm. Seriously. No wind, no current, no waves.
Once again we suited up and had plans to check out some of the galley area in first class. Simon gave us a briefing and some directions as Dave and I had brought along our huge laminated set of Empress deck plans. They cost some big $$ to make, but it was worth it. Simon took Jeff’s reel and ran it to the spot they wanted to go to. In poor visibility, you can literally swim right over something if you’re not paying attention.
Dave and I figured we would go check out the life boats that were in the mud along the remnants of the starboard side of the ship since Lee and Jeff would probably silt up the area in the galley– their buoyancy was fine but just swimming by stuff can mess up the visibility. Dave and I dropped straight down the rail, over all the usual places, including where Lee and Jeff had been. The visibility was pretty bad in this area so we kept going, deeper down the face of the ship. The visibility diminished to a few feet, with a halocline that distorted our vision to a blur. It was very disorienting and dark. I was once again just trying to focus on Dave as we dropped down. Suddenly two large water tanks appeared that had fallen away from another part of the ship. When I saw these, I just had a feeling we were in the wrong place. We were at the right depth, about 125' but no lifeboats. I signaled to Dave that we should turn around or swim forward and we rose up to the middle parts of the ship where the visibility was a little better. We stopped off in the skylight area, or at least what remains of it and then we worked our way back up. I dropped into the staircase again to take another look at the crumbling step and we returned to the surface.
Lee and Jeff had opted for a single dive expecting the weather to be bad but since it was so nice, Dave and I decided to do another dive. We hung out for a while and then decided we would hit the area Lee and Jeff had been since the silt probably had settled out by now. When we dropped back in the current had picked up and the water was extremely cold. We raced down the line as fast as my ears would let me, clipped off our strobes as we sailed past the tie-in and plummeted straight down to about 120' where the skylight entrance was. We dropped in and I held my light steady while Dave fanned away the silt revealing the famous “black and whites”– the ceramic black and white tiles that once made up the galley, bathroom and pantry floors. They are still an impressive sight and can be seen in several other places in the wreck. The visibility went fast and my hands began to sting as we poked around. There were a few other things around to see, but we grew cold rather quickly and with impending decompression, we swam aft as we ascended, swimming by the fallen mast and along the teak decking until we were at the rail. We swam back to the mooring and headed up.
We bid farewell to Lee and Jeff and made ready to dive the Empress as just Dave and I for the next four days. We topped up our tanks, re-mixing some nitrox and filling stages and then settled in for a quiet night. The wind howled and white caps glistened off the river, the weather finally having changed on us. The forecast was uncertain but we were ready for more diving.
Dave and I planned to meet Jean-Pierre at 8:30 am so we slept in a bit and then had a relaxing breakfast at the hotel. The best part of this trip is getting to come to the hotel, take a hot shower and eat well after dives. The food in Rimouski is excellent and the Hotel L’Empress is very nice and reasonably priced. Anyway, we met Jean-Pierre, loaded the boat and headed off to the wreck. It was a bit windy on the way out but it got calmer and warmer. We tied off the mooring and settled in to suit up for our dive. There was a moderate current running, but we were not too concerned. It was certainly not the worst we have seen.
We each took a camera on this dive– Dave had the video camera and I had the still camera. We were hoping to get some decent pictures of something and the lighting of the video camera helps brighten things up for the still shots. We descended down the line after the swim along the surface. The visibility was really quite good– probably about 30-40 ft on the surface and midwater. I was impressed. But the dark shroud of the ghostly wreck soon fell and once we reached 60 ft, it became pitch black with about 1-2 ft of visibility. The water column was a suspension of large and small particles, completely blinding. Then, deeper as we went, the water became a dark brown in color until suddenly the wreck appeared. The visibility was only a few feet and I was really disappointed. But lo and behold, as we dropped over the rail and began our swim aft (in an attempt to make it to second class or beyond), the visibility opened up and was a clear dark 20 ft. I looked up and could see the top of the rail, looked down and could see the sloping deck. It was awesome. We shot video and I attempted to capture a few choice shots using black and white film. We continued aft and came across the remnants of what appeared to be the first class dining room and galley. There was a large fireplace that was very intact sticking up from the wreckage. Nearby there was a large number of tiles, it seemed we were in the skylight area aft of the first class dining room. All above us, the wreck reached over like a steel ceiling.
There were black and white tiles all over and standing out were two stools (or bases for tables that were like booths along the hull in the dining area), which were still attached and reached out into the darkness. Swimming in and dropping down to this deck, the tiles slowly emerged from the silty blanket disguising them and soon the eyes were able to focus on a wall of black and white checkers. It was really cool. Dave moved in for a closer look with the camera while I snapped some pictures. The darkness fought against us as our lights struggled to illuminate the area. We swam around a large stokehold vent and an intact rail that still glimmers in the light. Spider crabs and sea ravens were all about and I watched one fall from the rail, down into the wreck. It startled me at first, to see this spider-legged crab sailing straight down into the cavernous interior. I gave my wings a shot of air and let the current carry me back towards the mooring. Quite pleased with the dive, but growing extremely cold, we rose up and returned aboard the boat.
We warmed up during the surface interval, enjoying the quiet of the waves splashing against the boat, with the occasional broaching beluga whale spurting air and a family of seals circling wreck our only distractions. The tide began to change and soon enough it was time for another dive. We elected to leave the cameras behind to explore more quickly and identify some new areas to film. We headed aft again and worked our way further into the areas we discovered on our first dive. Large valves were all about and as our eyes honed the area, more ceramic checkered tiles emerged into view. Since decks are collapsed on top of one another and different parts of he ship have fallen away, it was difficult to say exactly where you are. But by all indications, the amount of tile suggested galley/pantry areas. We located some additional areas where we would wanted to further explore, studied some fixtures that the camera had passed over. We let the current carry us back to the mooring again and we returned to the surface, calling it a day.
The weather looking good again, we made plans to meet at 8:30 am. Dany planned to put the stern mooring in if possible and with 3 more days of diving to go, we had much to explore.
For Thursday’s dive, Dany joined us. The plan was to install the mooring on the stern of the wreck so Dave and I would have a chance to dive the whole wreck. We tied off at the mid-ship mooring after setting the float in the stern. Dany would plan to go down the mid-ship mooring and come up the stern mooring as he finished up the chains and shackles. Dave and I dropped into the water and made our way to the downline. Today, the current was screaming and it was a real haul to the downline. We dropped down, setting our strobes and immediately made our way aft. The plan being to see how far back we could get. We passed by the fireplace and tiles, continuing back towards the engine hatch and then on to the second class skylight. We swam about halfway to the stern, which was not to bad.
We got into a really interesting area where the funnels and skylights used to be. There was a railing that once ran across the ship and this is still somewhat intact, although it has fallen and is at an angle to the wreck. We came upon a bright, bright green piece that stood out very dramatically from the dark growth on the wreck. It was a brass latch for a gate on the railing. There were lots of points to poke into the wreck. Hatchways and openings that led to the engine area and boilers were in this area. We swam by a large deck winch for the lifeboat launch most likely. Our hands were much warmer today as we went and bought some thick three-finger mitts, which made a huge difference. Nevertheless, the 35 degree water began to gain on us and we swam back to the mid-ship mooring. We had to swim against the current to return unfortunately so it was a bit more work to get back.
We surfaced and rode the river to the back of the boat. The current was really strong and I was trying to keep my arms from being yanked out holding onto the trail line as Dave passed up the camera. Something got snagged when he was unclipping it and he lost his reel. It must have gotten caught or unclipped accidentally. Oh well, the Empress of Ireland seems to like taking our dive gear from us. Last year I lost a helmet, this year Dave lost a reel. Luckily, we have more reels since we are dealers for the type of reel we carry. We popped a new one out of the box and Dave was happy again.
Dany was breaking in his new Inspiration rebreather so he wanted to do a second dive as well. Dave and I decided to do another dive in the mid-ship instead of moving to the stern. We figured it was just easier to stay there and we would just plan to dive the stern the last few days. All the while we were out there, we were swarmed by beautiful beluga whales and orca (or at least that is what they are called in French) whales. It was incredible. Dany’s wife came along to hang out and she was taking as many pictures as possible. Every time I reached for my camera, they disappeared. Pods broached all around the boat. It was awesome. Seals were popping their heads up and then ducking back under. I have never seen so much activity all in one area... but it would get better still....
Dave and I suited up to head in for another dive. The current had slacked a bit as the high tide approached so this would be a bit more relaxing than the first dive. Again, our plan was to head aft as far as possible to try and reach the second class areas. This is a big wreck and one thing you have to remember as you go barreling off in a direction is that you have to swim back, probably in current and probably cold. Nevertheless, this section of the wreck was really fascinating and you could do 100 dives here and not see it all. The visibility was still good (for the Empress) at about 10-15', although not quite as good as the day before.
We swam back and back and eventually reached what appeared to be the frame of the second class skylight. All that remains is a frame, which is partially collapsed. The upper structure of the ship is pretty much all collapsed into the debris field, so the first deck is the shelter deck. But, there are still places where the next deck up, the lower promenade, I believe, is still visible. It is difficult to tell sometimes where you are because the wreck is so big and there is so much collapse of upper decking (although overall the wreck is in excellent shape).
We came upon another large area of tiles, which was probably part of a restroom or more pantry space along the second and first class dining rooms. We had another lengthy swim back to the mooring so we headed back and up to decompress. While a our 20 ft stop, the most incredible thing occurred.... a pod of beluga whales encircled us and got so close that they were within a few feet. Four whales surrounded Dave; about 10-12 ft long each that were so close he could look into their eyes. It was awesome; we were totally taken aback by this bleach while whales circling around us. When we surfaced, Jean-Pierre, Dany and his wife were leaning over the edge of the boat pointing at the whales still swimming around us. We waved back that we knew, we definitely knew! Dave was ecstatic. Dany suited up for another dive and we kicked back and relaxed, enjoying the whale watching.
We returned to the marina later than usual and it was sweltering hot back at the marina. It sure was a gorgeous day to be on the water– and we had the Empress all to ourselves. That is one of my favorite feelings– to be swimming along the wreck with no one else around (except maybe your dive partner), the wreck undisturbed and quiet.
We gassed up back at Jean-Pierre’s, making some more nitrox and reviewing the deck plans to see what we had done. Heading back to the hotel, we grabbed some ice cream, which really hits the spot on a hot summer day. Two more days to go, but so many dives yet to make...
The following morning Dany was going to run us out to the wreck since Jean-Pierre had an appointment to go over some final details for the Nipigon sinking scheduled for July 26. We wanted to get an early start because if the weather held, we were going to head out around 9 pm for a night dive on the wreck. Dany told us that the night dives are the best—the visibility is better since there is not as much refraction and reflection of the light and the phosphorescence is amazing. We were really pumped up for this, so we headed out to the wreck first thing that morning.
When we arrived on site the current was ripping, really ripping. It was at least 2-2.5 knots, maybe more. We tied off on the stern mooring this time, as we had patiently waited all week to dive this section of the wreck. We suited up and I rolled off the boat first and started to make my way up to the mooring. The swim is probably about 40 ft along the surface. I was struggling against the current with the stage bottle clipped off. I got within about 7 feet of the line and my arms just gave out. The burning in my forearms had reduced my strength to nothing. I was totally exhausted. I let go of the line and drifted back to the boat. I needed to catch my breath. I gave Dave the ok and he continued the dive. I got back on the boat, caught my breath, left my stage bottle behind and prepared to head in again. Dave had done a shorter dive so we could make a longer second dive together and gave me a briefing on the conditions overall.
I decided to make a dive solo and then do another later with him. I rolled off the boat this time with a fierce determination to make it. The current hit me like a train the moment I splashed. I pulled hand over hand as quickly as possible along the surface granny and didn’t stop until I reached the down-line. Even stopping to rest wears you down as the incredible strain on your arms weakens you quickly. I reached the down-line breathing hard. Dave had told me that the current abated after 20 ft so I knew I could rest there. I paused for a moment, got my breathing rate down and descended to the wreck.
When I reached the rail, I passed Dany who was heading up. I gave him a wave, clipped off my strobe and dropped over the gorgeous railing that runs intact along the stern section. The stern is really one of the best sections of the wreck to dive. The visibility tends to be better, and it was at least 20-25 ft this day, and the second-class smoking room has spilled out onto a deck, making for interesting things to see. The wreck is protected so you can’t take anything, but it is still cool to see old bottles of liqueur and booze along with floor tiles and other wreckage strewn about. As this was my first solo dive to the wreck, I really enjoyed the quiet of being the only one down there, just me and the wreck.
I swam forward towards the end of the second-class dining area, passing over a cargo hatch and the remnants of a large wall coming up. It was great as the visibility was so good. I dropped back down towards the pile of “puzzle pieces”, which were once rubber floor mats in the bar area, now just a pile that appears as if it is a half finished puzzle. As it was my first solo dive I would occasionally have that “need to check if it’s still there feeling” and I would roll to my side and glance up towards the rail, as the sun glistened down in rays of watery light. It was still there.
I continued aft where the round stern tapers, following the rail past two large bollards and along the sweeping curve. By now, I was getting a little cold and wanted to do another dive with Dave so I headed back to the mooring, retrieved my strobe to begin my ascent, leaving the quiet tranquility of my time alone with the wreck. I hung out with Dany for a moment on the line—he is doing hour long plus dives now that he has a new Inspiration rebreather. He had just completed his training earlier in the week and was breaking it in on the Empress.
I returned aboard, warmed up and made ready for another dive. The current had slackened a bit over the surface interval so we suited up and braved the chilling water again. I had torn my skull cap putting it on while suiting up and it didn’t seal to well—I knew this was going to be a cold one. We rolled off the boat and charged at the current once again. Still going pretty good, I took no chances and raced up the line pulling hand over hand with determination. We dropped down to the wreck and immediately descended down to the remaining starboard rail. This is down around 125-130’ and then you can drop off into the mud. That is one of the things I really like about the stern—there is still some definition so you can see the shape all the way down.
Large timbers of decking and debris from the collapsed upper structure begin to litter this area so it can become very disorienting if you get too far out without a line and reference to the wreck itself. We rose back up towards the second-class smoking room and bar area and then swam forward towards the second class dining area. There is a very large structure there and we rose over the remaining wall, and began swimming up the middle of it. It was really pretty, as you could look up and see the rail glistening above, with beams and hull plating spanning up towards the surface. What a sight!
All too soon, however, we grew cold and returned to the mooring line to make our ascent. Little did we know this would be our last dive on the Empress for this year as the wind grew steadily strong, whipping up the seas so that not only would our night dive be cancelled, but our final day on the wreck as well. I was very disappointed as I was really looking forward to the night dive, but the dives we did get were excellent and without regret.
And so closed another year on the Empress of Ireland, truly one of the grandest wreck dives I have ever made. We did 12 dives in total and still we have not seen all of the wreck. We did not connect the stern section we dived with the farthest point aft we reached from the midship (the midship mooring is closer to the bow really). We did not anchor up on the bow mooring so we missed seeing the name of the wreck along the hull. But we did have the opportunity to see things we had not seen before, to take photos and video and to simply enjoy a journey through history, appreciating the magnitude of the tragic night of May 29, 1914.
Until next year, the Empress waits and so do we.
Many thanks to Jean-Pierre, Eve, Dany, Simon and everyone who made this an excellent trip.