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Pollock tells me about research that was done on

commercial divers in the 1960s and 1970s, when

many occupational divers were experiencing dysbaric

osteonecrosis. This condition involves lesions of dead

tissue in long bones such as the humerus (upper arm)

and femur (thigh). An extensive monitoring program

of North Sea divers led to changes in diving protocols

that resulted in a reduction in the frequency of cases.

Three factors were identified as important risk factors

at the time: a history of repeated dives below 165 feet,

a history of DCS and a pattern of diving profiles that

could be considered experimental. That sounds much

like technical diving today, which is the reason Pollock

started this study. We tech divers are an odd lot,

participating in an edgy aquatic experiment with our

bodies over time.

The battery of tests, which lasts for two hours

after each dive, includes collection of blood for

microparticle analysis (cell fragments in the blood that

could show signs of decompression stress), collection

of DNA samples for epigenetic study (analysis of how

stress factors can reprogram gene expression) and

testing of lung function.

The tests also include questionnaires about our

dives. Were we comfortable? Were we using active or

passive heating? Was our exertion level high or low?

For me, the questions bring insight and revelations

about my personal diving protocols. I have always

assumed that a warm and cozy diver would be a safe

diver, yet my active heating efforts could be promoting

increased ongassing of inert gas during the deepest

portions of my dives. As I chill during decompression,

relatively still in the cold meltwater, I might not be

offgassing as effectively as I thought. Or perhaps my

additional exertion when taking photographs means

added decompression stress. Diving with me is like

walking a dog. I swim laps around my subjects to

get a shot, shifting my vertical position in the water

column while panting and handling heavy camera gear.

I suppose it’s no surprise that my hardest photo and

video dives netted the highest bubble scores.

One might ask how Pollock’s research could ever

result in valid conclusions if every dive is such an

uncontrolled mess of variables. It might be tough

to publish, but the value of his mission goes far

beyond a published article in a scientific journal. His

most important work may be to reveal to the diving

community that even if we feel great and follow what

we believe to be a conservative algorithm, we may

still face risks now or later in life. His questions and

careful observations create a framework for education

and discussions in the technical diving community.

We really don’t know a lot about our experimental

technical dives, but if we can push for more research

in this field, we should be able to improve our

understanding and safety in the future.

I’ve emerged from the heart of Bell Island with an

indelible image in my mind. My downward-facing

heart-valve mermaid is strong, but I don’t want to

see her navigating a field of bubbling blood again. I

know I need to make some changes that can reduce

my decompression stress. I’m going to re-evaluate

how or whether I choose to use active heating on

cold-water dives. I’m going to add more light exercise

to my decompression hangs and lengthen my last

decompression stop. I hope that with more of this

cutting-edge research we’ll acquire better data to

enlighten our community and usher in a set of

safer protocols.

INTO THE MURKY DEPTHS

The chocolate-brown water yields to a wispy veil of

vaporous white. A dive light casts a warm glow in the

distance, and I emerge into clear water that reveals a

17-foot-high tunnel with squared-off walls. A pair of

rusting metal pipes covered in gelatinous silt lures us

deeper down the shaft, and a hulk of gears and wheels

takes form in the dark room ahead of us. We find a

large pump system and a junction of broken pipes

and gear. Cas Dobbin, an engineer in the oil and gas

industry, looks around at the equipment, noting the

broken valves and severed connections. He files away

18

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SPRING 2016

DIVE SLATE

BELL ISLAND MINE

Neal Pollock examines expedition diver Steve Lewis using 3-D ultrasound. Jill Heinerth swims

down a mine tunnel, documenting artifacts. Cas Dobbin photographs the SS

Saganaga.

JILL HEINERTH

CAS DOBBIN

JILL HEINERTH