Chief tender Kevin and I were very pleased that the next dive of the afternoon would not be back out on the ice at one of our three dive holes where the two of us had tended for Bill and Chris a short time earlier. Fresh snowfall and warming temperatures had made for a very slow, gear-laden banana sled pull out to the first dive. Also, the minor crack in the surface of the ice we crossed over on the way out to the hole seemed a little wider on our return.

The icy blanket covering most Arthur Harbor is beginning to break up. Yes summertime, and its promise of open water, is approaching rapidly.

The spot chosen for dive two was off the station's boat dock. No sled was necessary as the dock is just a short walk out of the building where the divers suit up. Eventually, there will be zodiac boats floating in the water at the dock, but for now, it is covered with fast ice — anchored to the shore.

There was a nice pool of open water, which was formed by the L.M. Gould when it (and we) finally made it into the Station last week about 40 feet from the shore. The exposed ice edge would be a perfect spot for the divers' final gearing and entry into the water. While waiting for the divers to return, Kevin and I could enjoy the company of a Weddell seal napping since morning on this large pan of ice.

This afternoon's diving duet featured Katrin and Chuck with an unexpected cameo. Since Katrin and Chuck wore their weight belts out to the dock, Kevin and I just had to carry their scuba tanks. Piece of cake, we thought!

Slip and Slide

Before crossing onto the ice we had to don snowshoes (Kevin's favorite footwear). Snowshoes distribute the weight of the wearer over a broader surface area, minimizing the risk of punching through the ice and taking an unexpected swim. The transition zone, where the ice and snow over the land merges with the ice and snow over water, had gotten a little soft throughout the day, so for added safety two long sheets of reinforced plastic flooring were laid across.

For me, that flooring was a giant slip and slide. It was banked as well! My first snowshoed step flew out from beneath me, and I was launched onto my back. The tank shot ahead of me like a hockey puck on our courtesy black carpet. I tried to quickly stand up, but it seemed like trying to stand on marbles. The snowshoes gave me no traction on the flooring, and I felt a malevolent force trying to slide me off into the jumbled ice alongside.

In most ungraceful fashion I crawled the remaining feet, pushing the tank ahead of me until I reached the snowy surface of the fast ice. Kevin being a quick study, followed without mishap using very carefully placed baby steps. The snoozing Weddell did not wake with the ruckus.

The next few minutes were routine for the tenders: help strap the tank on the diver, jam fins onto feet, make sure the face mask will not leak water due to hair or drysuit hood underneath, pull on gloves so the hands stay dry and warm as possible, pat diver on the back and help them ease into the icy clear water.

Danger in the Water

Bill had gingerly crossed onto the ice to snap some close up photos of the Weddell seal. Katrin and Chuck were underwater no more than two minutes when Kevin remarked that a seal was in the water. As I turned to ask what kind it was, the breaching image of a leopard seal answered my question. Leopard seals are one of the major predators down here and in addition to eating penguins and other seals, they have been known to attack zodiac boats and marker buoys.

Standard procedure is to suspend diving operations when leopards are sighted. Bill's focus turned diver recall, alerting our submerged friends of the potential danger. Usually our project dives in open water from boats. If a leopard seal is observed, a tender will hang a tank in the water and bank it with a hammer to signal the divers to return. Diving underneath the fast ice, leopard seals were not considered a threat.

Bill yelled at Kevin to get back to the shore and get a tank and hammer. Kevin scrambled away slipping up the slick black carpet. I realized that the hammer was with among the gear still out on the ice from the previous dive. Hopefully he can find something to generate noise on that tank and alert the divers to come up.

Bill and I could do nothing but watch the seal repeatedly surface, looking around with curiosity. Was it eyeing our napping friend the Weddell seal or us? As long as we could still see it we knew it was not bothering Katrin and Chuck. The Weddell seal snoozed on peacefully — apparently unaware of a predator in the vicinity.

Melting by the Minute

Kevin returned with the tank and I ran back to get it from him. Before I reached the black carpet covering the transition zone from the shore to the edge of the ice though my footing gave beneath me and slushy ice rose about my boots. I fell onto my back and scrambled backwards out of the hole I had made. The transition zone must be melting to water by the minute!

We decided Kevin should slide the tank down the plastic flooring. I rolled onto my stomach and pulled it toward me. Kevin threw a dive knife beyond me onto solid ice.

Barehanded, Bill plunged the tank and knife into the water and pounded the two together until we saw patches of diver-generated bubbles coming toward us. Katrin surfaced first and with pit-stop speed we pulled her tank off and hauled her onto the ice. Simultaneously, in the crystal clear water we could see the leopard seal swim directly below her, maybe at 10-foot depth! The procedure was repeated with Chuck.

The leopard continued to surface and look at us. Each time it seemed his head was closer to us. Time to get out of here! The Weddell seal snoozed on.

Battle Back to Shore

Kevin, Bill and Katrin headed for the shore first. Chuck lugged his tank away and I retrieved the diver recall equipment. As I turned away, the leopard seal's head appeared right at the ice edge where we had just been — some 10 feet away from me now. If he pops up on this piece of ice we could be in for a really bad day!

When I turned my attention back to the shore, there was much commotion. Apparently, the transition zone really is disintegrating! Kevin and Bill must have had a difficult crossing. To minimize the weight load, Bill tossed Katrin's tank onto the shore.

Katrin was weighted down with her weight belt and negotiated the slip and slide with some trouble. Chuck threw the spare tank into a snow bank on the shore. It slid back to the ice and Kevin and Bill lunged to catch it before it fell through.

I think I experienced a supernatural moment because I must have walked on water to cross that transition without an additional dunking. Chuck was last off the ice, half crawling on the plastic flooring and half kicking through the chunky slush.

I suspect we silently sighed in unison once all were ashore. The divers' thoughts switched from safety and survival mode to science mode and concern that the plants and animals they collected on their six-minute dive be immediately placed in the aquarium building.

Just another typical dive now complete. The leopard seal's head appeared again above the ice edge. The Weddell seal opened an eye of acknowledgement but did not budge with our departure.