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Holiday 2018

Disponible en línea en español.

stern of the vessel and look over the edge. Dark waters are curling up against the

stern, swell up a little and the water is speeding down below the vessel. “Nothing

will stop the Mighty Hudson,” I say. The current is strong, actually very strong.

We get to the port side - here we go! The big steel-mooring ball is up against the

transom pulled down about one third of its size under the boat! That is a lot of

force to pull down this mooring.

Ok, let’s do it, I’m all geared up, lights, gloves, checking the air, my lifeline is

clipped on, fins all well. Last talk face to face -“I will get off the transom, you drag

me over while I will try to swim.” My mask goes on. Strapping it very tight this

time as I’m trying to imagine and predict the current; lights are on and here I go.

As soon I splash I have to hold on to the swim platform against the river. Life

line tension goes on and off we go. I swim all I got, breathing like a racehorse.

The skipper pulls, I swim and land up against the stern of the trapped vessel.

I’m pinched against the flat transom by the hand of the Hudson on its way to

the ocean.

I’m breathing so heavily that I cannot catch my breath. I’m getting light headed,

I have to calm down. This is the time for the comms check and I hear a comforting

voice from the other side “loud and clear, over.”

I position myself where we think the propeller is and my hope is to go under

and catch myself on the rudder as the first stop on the way to my job site. ”Ok,

give me a 5 ft. slack, I’m going in, going under.” “Copy”. I had no idea what a true

meaning - going in/going under - those sayings really hold. Until I got pulled,

dragged under the boat with a vicious turbulence of the current as it speeds up

below the hull into the darkness. I was immediately going under, being pushed

deeper than I wanted. Shining my lights through the murky curtain, inflating my

buoyancy vest, I hit the rudder hip on, and I’m grasping on to it.

I feel relieved. Ok, now I’m secured, I’m buoyant, but still I feel I’m pulled

down, I breathe heavily, too heavily I’m exhausted just from this little trip. I say

another 5 ft. slack. Now I’m approaching the back of the propeller but all I see is

bundles of line, I catch myself on it and start to have a first look. I do not get it.

This is far from a job site, it is a disaster zone!!! I see a line between the rudder

and propeller filling empty space of about 3 feet so wedged in that it bites itself

into the edges of the rudder and the prop I’m battling the current and trying to

size the bundle up, my hands do not go around that creation. The line continues

around the prop, where I can see only a part of it like it is being choked, showing

just the tips of the blades, then goes behind around the shaft, and … continues

to the darkness in the direction of the other engine across the boat. It is as thick

as my arm. I brace myself catching my legs at the rudder and head forward

stretching my arms to touch the line in front of me. It feels like a steel when I

touch it. An enormous strain is put on this line!!! I worry - if anything goes - and

any part catches somewhere on me, those forces would not even register my body

to be in the way. I go to the second prop. I’m holding onto that steel-like line. My

body is pinched to it and I go like one of those squirrels over the telephone line.

Head first. My lights are piercing the darkness, and there it is. The second cluster.

I have to stop and adjust my equipment. My mask is getting flooded as the water

lifts it up and washes my glass from inside as well, my tank is pulled aside. I’m

trying to assess the situation, and what I see is a perfect copy of where I just came

from. As an addition, there is a heavy thimble at the edge of the rudder and I can

finally see where it all started. A heavy line was left on the mooring bridle and

now it’s doing its rigorous job of holding the vessel in place. Gotcha!!! I’m now

realizing that all this is to pull down that big steel mooring ball. I’m afraid to

come close to anything despite the current pushing me to hold on to just that! If

anything goes … I’m thinking again.

I’m breathing heavily from fighting the current that for a moment I’m losing it,

and feel that I’m getting CO2 poisoned. I have to calm down. Now! “Com check

com check over?” “Loud and clear” I hear, “I’m ok loud and clear“ I reply. This is

the line of comfort I get down here. Ok, coming up, pick up the slack. I bobbed on

the surface securely pinched against the boat. Swapping the tanks and getting the

plan of the attack. “So Z, how is it? I’m being asked. I have no idea what to say.

Then I go to the cabin and still in shock from what I saw I asked: “Hey captain,

are we at the right boat?” He looks at me with a smirk: “Yea, why?” “Well, we are

not doing it, there is nothing we can do.” Captain yells “so Z, how is it?” I looked

at him: “It is bad, very bad. I mean you are screwed here. I cannot touch anything,

tension is all over the place, the line clusters are as thick as a body of a man!!!”

Then I got back to senses and I say ok, let’s get a new tank, I will go in and

maybe the more I go in the edges will wear off. Getting long serrated edge knives,

hammer, cordless underwater grinder, and with all these hanging off like candies

I’m going back in. The first stop at the rudder and got there in no time (ha-ha),

swept under like a piece of dust into a central vacuum, catching a breath and now

I’m landing on the prop blades. First cuts into the bundle, and after a fewminutes

my forearm goes numb, holding myself, cutting, breathing heavily, it is too much;

I have to change the strategy. Let’s cut that steel rod. I’m making first cuts into

it, and as I got almost through the first strand the line is starting to unwind and

parting slowly, I unclipped the knife from me and holding just the end tip of the

handle and the first strand goes completely, I hear a loud steel bang. Wow! A little

tension relieved, the vessel is coming to life. Cutting takes too long; I’m trying the

grinder. I had no idea that this tool has a crush on this line and loves it! It is going

a lot easier. I’m careful again to watch each strand unravel, followed by a loud

bang. It is like watching lightning and thunder. One after another I get to the very

last strand. I’m switching back to the knife. Now it’s scary, I’m bracing myself,

I got 2000 psi of air, just in case I get caught and swept to the unknown, this is

plenty of time to breath underwater. I check all my gear that nothing dangles,

or is caught anywhere. Ok, action! I checked the comms. Cutting the first line is

almost done. Little by little I move the blade, it is amazing how strong the line

is. Now!!! A loud bang and I can see the end rushing somewhere to hide into the

darkness of the water.

Ok, the vessel is steady. I confirm with the surface and I’m moving on to

starboard prop. I asked the captain to move the rudders maybe that would help

to free some of the bundles. The grinder goes into action and line-by-line gives

away. Now that big bundle is free. I pushed it away and it starts its own journey

way into the deep waters. It is moving fast. I’m staying here for a moment and feel

grateful for being up here while the bundle is going down without me. Starting

to see propeller and two air tanks later the starboard prop is free and engine

check proves that it works. I’m exhausted, ready for a break, this was three hours

already. The current is at its maximum now and I’m going to rest, in my wet

wetsuit laying on the floor for half an hour just to gain strength to tackle the real

deal. I fall asleep immediately.

I’m hugging the running generator in the engine room to get rid of the terrible

cold I woke up into. I’m cold, very cold doubting myself to go back in. Minutes

later I found myself back under the vessel, this time with the current at its slack!

This is the last dive I’m hoping for, surrounded by an enormous tension of

twisted and stretched lines. Each of the strands holds the unpredictable direction

of unstoppable power if I make the cuts in a wrong sequence. In a moment the

vessel will be set free from the mooring.

I start with the main line connecting the vessel to the mooring line thimble. This

line is arm thick. I start strand by strand, each goes with the boat talking back,

metal is squeaking and bang announces every cut through.

I’m at the last cut planning correct body position so that I do not go with the

line rushing away. Looking for an easy spot where I can land safely after the cut

to drift away with the boat.

The grinder is spinning and I’m carefully watching the wheel disappearing

into the line. Last cuts are made with the knife. I’m feeling comfortable with my

position. Watching the line strands giving away, trying to predict that thimble

action. Bang!!! That was an unexpected loud bang steel on steel, I pushed away

holding on to the propeller for a moment trying to see if I’m all one piece and

what really happened.

I see the line is cut, hanging down from the prop and the thimble is gone!

I announced: “Coming up - over.” “Copy that, all clear”.

I see the boat separated from the huge mooring ball which is finally

afloat at its full majesty and the boat is just a few feet away. Slack tide!

Going back down to wrestle the rest of the line on the prop - this time it

is a grinder job and the current is very mild. Got it, go it all!!! Last few

pieces with hammer and chisel.