This morning the towers of downtown Vancouver, across Burrard Inlet from our hotel, were blurred with a grey veil of rain. No trouble, I thought. It rained yesterday and we got plenty of training done regardless. Rain is not really a threat to a submarine! But, crucially, the big rotating sign in the shape of a “Q” that marked the Lonsdale Quay marketplace was behaving oddly. Every once in a while its steady turning would stall, or even reverse for a few seconds.
The magnitude of the problem didn’t become apparent until we got out to the marine lab. The Canadian flag at the front of the building snapped madly and strained at its line. The sea was dark grey and spangled with whitecaps. Two-foot seas washed over the float where the support skiff was moored and interfered with each other near shore to make a high, sharp, chaotic chop. Sailboats in ones and twos, aborting cruise plans for the Easter weekend, struggled in the direction of the harbor under bare poles, pitching and plunging. Not a pretty day for nautical endeavors. (We found out later that it was the strongest windstorm in several years, with winds reaching 100 km/h. It dropped trees on power lines, cutting electricity to over 100,000 customers, and forced cancellation of some ferry service).
Our instructors didn’t like the look of things either. “Do you get seasick easily?” one of them asked me. Jeff was frowning at the idea of putting a sub under tow in the present sea state, if it should have a mechanical problem. For about an hour we stood around in our full raingear, watching the weather for signs of improvement. Our patience was not rewarded. If anything, it seemed to be getting worse–visibility dropping, sleet beginning to mix in with the rain. We began discussing how much submarine training we might be able to accomplish without having to court nausea and disaster by putting the vehicles in the water.
What we settled on was to call our sonar and manipulator work of the previous day sufficient and to devote our time today to the one system on the sub that we hadn’t touched yet: the video camera and recorder. It emerged that the video system works pretty much the same on land and in the water. Chris and I took turns sitting in DeepWorker #7, hatch closed to keep the rain out of the cockpit but resting securely on dry land, and working through the video controls. This was quickly done. Then we headed for the warmth and dryness of the lab for coffee and “Timbits” (evidently the Canadian word for donut holes). We had a relaxed discussion of all we’d learned. After that we exchanged a final round of thank-yous and handshakes, called our submarine driver certification complete, and parted company.
Thus ends Dr. Love’s underwater blog for now. It was a wonderful treat to drive the Deep Worker, and a much appreciated privilege to be allowed to do so, especially in the company of such excellent teachers and fellow students. For me this training trip was also a satisfying visit to the Pacific Coast. I was raised in Western Oregon, and any day when I get to see clouds caught in tall trees is a good one! The blog will resume this summer in a higher and less rainy environment, when I meet the DeepWorker submersible again for the Real Deal: the field season at Pavilion Lake.
-Stan
