Just as preparing our equipment begins the evening before a day's dives, so does preparing our plans. Each evening we assess that day's progress as well as the next day's needs. Of course, we can never be sure if the weather will allow us to go into the field the next day (although we have been extraordinarily lucky in that regard).

So in the morning before our 8 a.m. meeting I review the plans and needs with Bill (and before he headed back north to other responsibilities, also with Jim). Then, at the meeting, I brief the rest of the team on the dive ops for the day. That includes who's diving, who's tending, and where we are going. After being sure that those plans mesh into everyone's laboratory work requirements we agree on a time, usually as early as possible, that works with everyone's schedule.

The recently expanded dive locker is in a small building next to Hero Inlet that also contains the boat shop. Hero Inlet is a small fiord-like finger of water that separates Gamage Point, where Palmer Station lies, and the larger Bonaparte Point opposite us. The inlet is named for the R/V Hero, a beautiful, double-hulled wooden research vessel built at the Gamage Shipyard in Maine.

The Hero supported the station logistically and scientifically for many years. Her master, Pieter Lenie, is an Antarctic legend. "Iron man in a wooden ship" is a cliche but is also quite fitting. Few have done as much to support the advance of Antarctic marine science as Captain Lenie and the R/V Hero. Palmer Station still relies on ships for all our scientific and logistical support, and it is fitting that those ships will always access the station via a channel whose name honors the captain and crew of the Hero.

The dive locker and boat house building is also adjacent to the Biolab building. Biolab is just a bit further up a slight incline from Hero Inlet and is one of the two big main buildings on the station. It houses not only the labs but also the dining area, the science offices, and some of the bedrooms, including mine.

The divers will usually start getting ready about 40 minutes or so before our agreed on departure time. I described all our dive gear in my last journal entry (Dive Ops: The Tools). Each diver starts out ("point A") in their lab work clothes, their dive gear stowed in their personal gear bin or on the drying racks, and ends up ("point B") in a dry suit, with their gear packed up and ready to go onto our rubber Zodiac dive boat. Having a routine for getting from between those two points is useful for efficiency, but each of us has a slightly different sequence of events for getting from A to B. I'll describe my normal routine as an example.

I start my preparations in the dive locker. The first thing I do is set up a tank with my BC (which doubles as the tank holder or backpack) and two regulators. Then I tuck the hoses in so that they don't flop around and put it and my weight belt out for the tenders to take to the boat later on.

Next, my mask, snorkel, fins, and collecting bags go into a mesh gear bag. So does a small bag containing extra wrist tubes and mask anti-fog solution (which works a little better than saliva in the cold). On top go my hood(s) and a sealed plastic bag with my dry gloves, liners, and wrist tubes. If I haven't already, I then put lubricating talc inside the wrist and neck seals of my dry suit to reduce the stress on them when I get in and out of the suit.

After I get that all packed up I go to my room and change into my polypropylene underwear. Then back to the dive locker where I put on my heavy "underwear" jumpsuit and then my dry suit. It is fairly straightforward to get your hands through the wrist seals. Getting the head through the neck seal is a bit more awkward. You are pushing your head through a six-inch-long elastic rubber tube. The tube is quite narrow since it is designed to seal tightly against the neck, and it stretches out to be much longer than 6 inches as you try to push your head through it. The best analogy I've heard for the process of getting through the neck seal is that it is a reenactment of emerging from the womb.

Finally, my buddy or one of the tenders seals me into the suit by zipping up the heavy, waterproof zipper that runs across the shoulders. Somewhere between putting my legs into the dry suit and leaving the dive locker, I put on my ankle weights.

Donning a wool hat and waterproof mittens for the ride out, I help the tenders get what ever gear remains out to the boat dock and into the Zodiac. The Zodiac dock is right next to the main station pier on Hero Inlet and only about 200 feet from the front door of the dive locker.

The Zodiac we use is 19 feet long. When we have four divers going out with the normal two tenders, the boat is quite cramped so each person's tank, weight belt, and gear bag are placed together in the boat and we sit with or next to our own gear. That minimizes the commotion when we get to the dive site.

The ride out to the site can take anywhere from 5 to 30 minutes or more, depending on how far we are going and how much medium to small "brash" ice we have to go through. The Zodiacs do a good job pushing through the brash but it is slow going. If I'm to be in the first buddy team to enter the water I will usually start unpacking my gear bag if we are picking our way through brash.

When we get to the site we pull out a nifty hand-held sonar depth ranger that helps us to pick the exact spot we want to enter the water. Sometimes we anchor the boat but more often than not we "live boat." That means that the boat drops us off and then backs a short distance away. Then when we surface they come pick us up.

Once we know where we want to drop in for a live boat or have anchored, I ask one of the tenders to stand by while I put on my weight belt and harness. In the confined space of the boat it is safer to have someone help you get the harness over your shoulders if it gets caught up (as it not infrequently does) than to swing 40 pounds of weights around in the boat. Then I wrap my glasses into my hat, place them into the hard case my mask traveled out in, and put on my hoods. A tender stands by and typically helps me put on my tank (getting the straps clear of the wrist wrings and exhaust port on the dry suit can be a hassle by yourself).

Next I spend a minute or more getting my mask sealed on my face and tucked in under the thin rubber dry suit hood. It is difficult to readjust your mask and get the dry suit hood sealed over it correctly when you are underwater so it is important to make sure you get it right the first time. Then the fins go on and I'm ready to have the tenders seal my dry suit gloves by pulling them up over the hard wrist rings on my dry suit. The tenders help us do a lot but even under the best of circumstances, sealing the dry gloves is something you simply cannot do for yourself. I grab my collecting bag and I'm ready to get into the water.

If we are live boating, when both (or all three if we are going as a trio) divers are set the boat driver eases the Zodiac up to the spot we want to go down at, hits reverse briefly to stop us in the water, and then drops the engine into neutral so that the prop is not being spun by the motor. After checking that there isn't a stray bit of ice behind us we then drop into the water.

Even with all the insulation we are wearing, falling into 30 to 33 degree F water is always something of a sensory jolt. We pop back up to the surface, signal the tenders that we are OK, and then rendezvous off the bow (or at the anchor line if we are anchored) before starting our descent.

Our descent, dive, and re-emergence to the world of air will be described in the next section.

Chuck's Journal: Dive Ops The Mechanics Part B