“The fathoms multiply as I pull myself down the anchor
line, deep and deeper until the light dims and the sound of my bubbles roars in
my ears. The current is light, a gift, and it has shifted 180 degrees causing
the down line to bend over the ship so that when I drop off the line at 200 feet
I fall slowly onto the deck (floor) plates of the engine room. Adjusting my
buoyancy and my video lights I descend into the valley between the engine space
and the armor belt and begin my swim ....(later) I linger on my decompression
hang because I want to savor my time in this place and because I am reluctant to
leave the Monitor alone in her grave. I do not know if I will ever have another
opportunity to visit her… so I shuck all thoughts of loss and concentrate on the
incredible sights and sounds that I have experienced on our dives this week. Ah!
Memories, as the song goes, they can’t take them away from me. And, with a final
breath of pure oxygen in my lungs, I break the surface and return to the world
above the sea.”
When I wrote those words in my journal back in 1997, I truly wondered if my days on the USS Monitor were behind me. I had been fortunate to be a member of the first civilian team to dive this historical ship in 1990 and made many more dives over the ensuing years. But now, the call was out to save her and NOAA and the Navy were about to take over. Starting in 1999, and lasting through the fall of 2003, scores of professional and warrior divers would drastically change the character of Ericsson’s marvelous machine, removing the engine, prop, turret and essentially obliterating the entire aft half of the ship. I tried to console my yearning with the knowledge that I had made the plunge when she was still intact and my memories were whole. But the desire never left me.
The
call came early in 2004. Joel Silverstein and his wife, Kathy Weydig, had
obtained a permit to make the first dive survey of the Monitor since the removal
of the turret. The survey team would operate under the flag of the New York
Explorer’s Club. Did I want to go? Are you kidding me! I moved heaven and earth!
Well, okay I rearranged my schedule, but I would have moved them.
We assembled in our dive headquarters (yes, it was a beach
house with a pool) in Hatteras on Sunday, July 18, to review our plans
and assignments for the expedition. Only Joel, Kathy and I had dived the Monitor
before and there was a mood of boisterous anticipation emanating from the other
eight members of the dive team. Also, it was hot and we were emanating sweat.
But we cranked up the AC and got to work. I learned that the permit was almost
cancelled the past week. (I was out of town and had not talked to Joel or Kathy
for several days.) The NOAA general counsel had declared the site a crime scene
because of a concern that the wreck had been disturbed (nets were observed by
the Navy when they dropped a video camera on the ship several weeks before). The
site was going to be closed and no diving allowed until NOAA and the Navy could
investigate, a process that could take many months. Fortunately, John
Broadwater, the head of the Monitor Marine Sanctuary, convinced the powers that
be that our team could do the investigation for them, and a lot cheaper. We were
already equipped to video, measure and photograph the wreck on our survey and we
could provide the results of our dives to the NOAA investigators. Reason reigned
and our permit remained.
Unfortunately, for the next few months and the report I’m making now, the conditions of the permit were changed to require everyone to sign nondisclosure agreements such that we cannot comment on anything pertaining to the ‘investigation’’ until NOAA issues its findings. Thus, I am restrained from discussing any aspects of our dives, including descriptions of areas of the ship that we observed, videoed and photographed.
But I can report that it was a truly successful and wonderful week of diving on one of the great dive sites of the world. I have written about what it’s like to dive the Monitor in another venue and the swiftly changing conditions that create so many problems for the visitor to its depths. But, catch it on a good day and you will truly believe you are in dive heaven. We were able to dive on 3 out of 5 dive days. Monday and Wednesday, the current was screaming and we wisely chose to forgo any attempts to reach the ship. Been there and it was not pleasant. Also, on Monday the Margie II, captained by Art Kirchner, lost its salt water pump while we were in the ferry channel. Fortunately, several of our group knew diesels, and we just happened to have the parts, and repairs were made on the fly, saving the rest of the week. Tuesday, there was still a bit of current up top and in the column, but 7 of us were able to make the descent and the conditions on the ship were excellent - very little current below 200 feet and the visibility was over 60 feet. I was last to dive and spent most of my time alone on the wreck. I was ecstatic! What a return!
There
is no longer a valley to descend into between the engine room and the portside
armor belt. There is no engine room at all. But the front half of the Monitor is
still completely intact, much as it was when I last visited her. There has been
virtually no work performed on the ship forward of the midship bulkhead and it
has to be jammed full of artifacts. This is the area at the crew and officer
quarters and where the captain had his stateroom and boardroom. Of course it has
all caved in during the past 140 plus years and there is no area to penetrate.
But what a dig this will someday be. I circumnavigated the ship, shooting a roll
of film and refamiliarizing myself with its features. There were a few items
that had been opened up as a result of the engine and turret removal, such as the
galley stove and the boiler ash dumps, and I also wanted to check out the pilot
house which was first observed last year. Diving trimix, I limited myself to a
15 to 20 minute bottom time for this first foray and the time passed quickly. It
seemed as if I had just begun my dive when I realized I was out of film and out
of time. I began my ascent and spent a pleasant deco reliving the experience.
Over the next few days we completed our mission, capturing several hours of videotape and photographic information for NOAA and making 30 dives (I made 3) without a serious mishap. We lucked out on the weather (no hurricanes!) and actually had one day when the ocean was “like glass”. I sat on the engine housing and casually watched a few Portuguese Man-of-War jellies sail their purple balloons lazily past our boat. The food was excellent and the company was both intriguing and entertaining. Artie ‘‘The Legend” regaled us with tales of his exploits and Jeff Johnston, the NOAA representative, was a fount of knowledge about the Monitor and its history. Getting to know some of the team members that I met for the first time was rewarding in itself and I look forward to further dive experiences with each of them.
Time
and space, as well as the aforementioned nondisclosure matter, do not allow me
to more adequately expand on our expedition week. Perhaps in a few months I will
be able to discuss our findings in greater detail and provide illustrations of
them, including more photographs and videotape of our dives. There have been so
many books and articles over the decades about this historic ship and based on
my observations and experiences of its exploration there is a lot more to be
written. My return to the USS Monitor was special to me personally, the
culmination of almost a decade and a half of fascination with its history,
demise and resurrection. I look forward to sharing my moments on its remains and
providing a few paltry words of my own to its chronicles.
Email
for more information.
414 Orange Street, Beaufort, NC 28516
(p) 252- 728-2265
(f) 252- 728-2581
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