Raphaël Christian Fournier has been an underwater photographer for fourteen years. He loves coral reefs, pelagic fish and wrecks, but his skills are often also very useful to large cruiseships and boats. He has to dive under the hulls for photographic surveys about corrosion, dents, leaks, blocked inlets, broken propellers, stuck rudders, missing anodes, entangled mooring lines around propeller shafts, etc….
Most dives under ships are made while the vessel is at anchor. In harbors, the visibility is often very poor. Before the dives, Christian meets with the Captain and Chief Engineer for an informative talk. Everything has to be carefully planned. The dive time is limited, for the large ship must often maneuver while it is moored, to compensate for the dragging of the anchor. Christian prepares his equipment according to the job, often two Nikonos V with 15mm and macro lenses and two SB 104 strobes.
I had the luck of accompanying him on one such dive, under the cruiseship "Stardancer", off the tip of Baja California, Mexico. The captain needs close-ups of the rudders gear assembly, dents on the starboard blade, the port stabilizer, as well as a general survey of the hull. The scuba and photo gear is loaded onto one of the ship’s lifeboats to get to the stern. We admire a beautiful view of the arches of Cabo San Lucas where the ship calls in for the morning, having dropped anchor a short tender ride from town. The safety officer warns the engine room that two photographers will dive under the ship. The propellers will not be turned on for an hour, they will just stay on stand by, rotating slowly at one turn per minute.
The sea is choppy. We jump in, just in time to catch a glimpse of the 2000 heads turned towards us. The passengers and crew are all on deck, waiting for immigration and custom officials to allow them to go ashore.
Diving under a cruiseship in deep water is an eerie feeling. I am overwhelmed by the huge dark mass of the ship and the emptiness all around it. The visibility is about 80 feet. We cannot see the bottom, which, according to the captain, is about one hundred feet below. There is no fish, no reef, no life. Just empty blue. The two giant propellers and rudders stand out against it. I am moved by this sight. It is a magic moment, beautiful and frightening. I cannot envoy it for long because the strong current is pushing us away from the vessel. We must swim hard against it. Christian heads towards the starboard rudder and, Captain’s drawings in mind, localize the first area to photograph. The picture required is of the 12 bolts holding the rudder shaft cover ring, which is only accessible from inside a two inch gap. Christian stick the lens near the opening, and the strobe further away, pouring light inside the hole. He carefully takes notes on his waterproof writing pad of what each frame is about. Starboard, port, top, bottom assembly. I take a picture of him shooting close-ups of the bolts. He seems to be an astronaut during an E.V.A.
We can hear the rumble from the tenders going back and forth above our heads, between ship and shore. Passengers must have finally been allowed ashore. We will have to exercise caution while ascending, to avoid them. The hull under the water line is dull gray, covered with scratches and bumps, quite a contrast with the visible and manicured upper part of the ship ! In some areas, which Christian photographs and reports, barnacles have attached themselves to this peculiar rock. The anti barnacle paint must have worn off in these corners. The current is pushing us, so we keep on swimming towards the ship to stay still.
Christian then checks the starboard propeller blades. He passes his gloved hand all around the brass edge. When a dent is felt, he takes a picture of it, including a small ruler in the frame, using his macro set up. He also writes down the position of the dent. Since he needs his two hands to shoot or to write, I have to hold him by the jacket, so the current won’t drag him away. I myself hold on to the propeller. It all gets confusing as the blade rotates slowly. We use the larger dents as references to our position. This is more geometry than photography !
We must resurface and climb on the life boat three times to reload the cameras, change batteries and writing slates. Christian has prepared everything carefully, including the indispensable towels to dry his hands before unloading the Nikonos, so it all goes smoothly. Climbing back in is hard though, because lifeboats are not designed for scuba. I notice that some crew members are fishing from the back deck, even though we asked them not to, during our dive.
We then head towards the port stabilizer. It is a long way (midship) from the stern. The current is against us and there is little to cling on to. The hull is perfectly smooth, except for anodes welded at strategic points. By electrolysis, metal from the anodes is transferred and limits corrosion. We photograph these metal bars and record their positions, so the chief engineer is kept informed of their "melting". The stabilizer has been deployed, so we can check it and photograph what is impeding its movements. Christian sneaks inside the stabilizer opening, studies and takes pictures of everything. He does not find anything obviously wrong, but the photos will probably reveal the problem to the engineers.
Then we swim on for the hull survey and reach the bow thrusters, two 6 feet propellers at the bow of the ship. Christian gets some shots and disappears on the other side. A quick thought comes to my mind as I am going through one of the propellers : what about if it starts ? A second thought reassures me : the engineers know that we are underneath. However, I hurry through the narrow passage. We are now carried by the current back towards the main props.
Since the draft of this ship is 27 feet, we never went very deep, so we still have plenty of air left. Christian signs to me that we are going deep down. We soon reach the flat and muddy bottom. It is dark and cold. We can only vaguely guess the huge part of ship above us, and feel very small. I am awed. I can hear the faint hum from the generators and alternators which are running 24 hours non stop. It all reminds me of the movie "The hunt for Red October" It is scary, so we go back towards the props where warmth and light greet us.
Christian produces from his B.C.D. pocket his Santa Claus red hat and clings to the propeller so I can take a picture of him. The hat droops miserably, so we decide to add air in it to make it stand straight. Not a bad Christmas card.
Suddenly, a fast moving black form appears from the deep and swims away : a sea lion, probably from the family that lives on the rocks of Cabo ! This will be the only live encounter during the dive.
I feel a hitch on my left arm : a hook has just planted itself in my suit. Since I am holding the camera and flash in one hand, a slate and the ruler in the other, I cannot easily reach for my knife. I make frantic signs towards Christian, who probably cannot see the transparent Nylon thread from his position and does not understand my elbow gestures (we do not have a sign for "I have a hook stuck in my arm"). I give him the slate and ruler and manage to reach for my sharp blade. Christian then understands and cuts the thread, just on time, for the hook was tearing through my suit. As I remove the hook off my neoprene, I see Christian attaching the line to an anode fixture. These fishermen will have a surprise ! Pity we did not tie their line with one from the over side, it would have made a great game on deck.
It is now time to surface for good and look after the shots and write down the reports.
The Captain does not have to wait long to see the pictures. The films are processed right away in the on board darkroom. Christian is a bit worried by the shots of the bolts in the rudders. An hour later, he can see the results and is reassured. The sharp and clear pictures are delivered to the Captain. They show that the locking wire is broken and bolts are missing. Repairs will have to be organized right away. The stabilizer piston is O.K. from the outside, so research has to start from inside.
Christian shows me some dramatic shots of a broken propeller he had to photograph a few years ago. The Captain had asked him to check on the propeller because the engineers had noticed an uneven shaft rotation. Before the dive, the captain reminded Christian that everything seen under there would be secret (no need to alarm the passengers or crew). Both Christian and his assistant holding a three foot ruler descended towards the propellers. An unusual sight awaited them : one third of a blade was sheared off ! Christian took pictures of the assistant measuring the "dent". The Captain was waiting anxiously in the lifeboat and asked immediately as they surfaced :
- "What did you see ?"
- "I cannot tell, it is a secret", answered Christian," but the ruler is too short !"
The Captain would not believe it until he saw the photographs. All crew had a nice unexpected vacation as the ship went to dry dock.
Diving under this large ship was different. I was overwhelmed by this huge mass. It was eerie and lonely : no coral reef, no pretty fish, nothing to give a familiar scale. I could hear engine vibrations, water inlets and outlets working : there is life inside, but out of reach. Christian and I felt privileged : not many divers can have this kind of experience, even though these huge metal whales multiply year after year on the surface of our oceans!