RMS Niagara

Niagara Article

Reel Passion slipped her mooring at Tutukaka Marina early on the morning of Wednesday Jan 26th 1999. The healthy apprehension normally experienced when embarking on a deep dive, was dwarfed by my grave responsibility for the safety of the dive team. This was the biggest expedition I had ever led. My personal dream was about to become reality. After months of cajoling and persuasion, a dozen people had literally bought into my dream by contributing to the cost, and placed their trust in me as the expedition leader to know exactly what I was doing. I thought I did; but I’d never done this before; so it was the greatest burden I had ever known. I was terrified.
From boarding the vessel to arriving at the dive site I was consulted on details ranging from my need for a coffee to the contingency of a type 2 bend. I was so stressed I could hardly think straight. The only way I got through the 2 hour voyage to the dive site was by “toughing it out”. When we arrived on site the practical work started. Setting out the shot lines and preparing the drop lines focussed my mind and kept me busy. It was a lifesaver. Launching the ROV diverted everyone’s attention off me and gave further relief. I used the time to prepare my equipment and psych myself up. The appearance of a 14ft hammerhead cruising the dive site was as welcome as boils. I could have kicked it around the county in my frustration. After some 20 minutes it got the message and scarpered, but where had it gone? The time had come.

The First Dive on RMS Niagara
The visibility was excellent at over 100ft with clear blue water. My dive buddy, Dave Apperley, spent 10 minutes at 6m breathing on his Buddy Inspiration Closed Circuit Rebreather. This technique is necessary to ensure the CO2 absorbent reaction is fully underway before the dive starts in earnest. We used this time to check for leaks and to relax from the exertion and apprehension of kitting up. Dive Marshall Brian Oxenham logged our decent at 11:53. Dave was ahead of me initially. I switched my breathing gas from air to trimix as the depth increased. Dave sank slower now as he checked the setpoint of his rebreather and I passed him. At 60m I was startled by a dark shape moving fast. Was it the hammerhead we had seen earlier, or tricks of the fading light enhanced by nitrogen narcosis? A school of kingfish swept into view from the depths and circled us rapidly. My mood ricocheted from alarm to euphoria! I knew then that we were in for a stunning dive. The bright sunlight was fading now and a twilight world approached us from below. At 80m we passed through a thermocline. The temperature dropped from 20 degrees above to 16 degrees below the watery divide. I shivered as I crossed this barrier, psychologically entering a new world. An unknown dark mass was taking shape in the gloom below. As we approached, it receded, undulating ominously. We pressed on. The outline hardened. Spectres of my imagination fled and familiar objects took their place. Fish! A shoal of golden snapper parted like the curtains in a theatre, dramatically revealing RMS Niagara! The stress was gone. Suddenly I knew exactly where I was. On a wreck, and a good ‘un at that. She was lying on her port side all right. Two rows of handrails curved downwards following the rounded stern. Rows of portholes perforated the slab like expanse of her mighty hull. As I looked left and down, ventilators and deck fittings filled my view. Up and forward revealed an ongoing line of handrail and hull with yet more portholes. The expanse of the ship seemed far greater now than her vital statistics would suggest. My eyes adjusted to the dim blue light revealing more and more detail to take in. I turned to Dave. He too was gazing in wonder. Our excitement mounted. Dave was now calling profusely into his rebreather with a voice distorted by helium and gesturing with his arms. I couldn’t understand a word he said but I knew exactly what he meant. It was a stunning sight to be the first divers to see the huge ocean liner lying undisturbed on the seabed. We had achieved a major personal goal. A giant step for man but an insignificant step for mankind. Not everything we saw was so pleasing. There was an old trawl net snagged across the wreck which demanded respect. At 110m deep this could be a real hazard. It had trapped a large tuna (6ft long) which now lay dead as a warning to us. We avoided it carefully. As the ship lay on her side the timber decking that should be below us, now formed the wall on our right. The wood had decayed releasing its hold on the screws and bolts which secured fittings to the deck. These had fallen onto the now horizontal walls of the superstructure. We were passing the ships hospital located on the uppermost part of the superstructure at the stern of the ship. Dave examined a deck light comprising 3 glass prisms set in a brass frame. It would have allowed daylight into the compartment below the deck while being strong enough for passengers to walk on during a stroll around the ship. Now it lay loose on its side with no deck to hold onto. I saw an oval brass fitting which might have been the mounting socket for a hand tool. An open hatch cover invited access to the inside of the wreck. I shone my torch inside and revealed a huge void with no visible end. Within this black maw the only visible object was a large cylinder some 5ft in diameter with numerous regularly spaced perforations. An unusual item like this might be identified later but so far we haven’t found out what it was. We do know we were looking into the hold beneath the stern mast where cargo would have been loaded. Gravity would have caused most of the cargo to tumble to the lowest point when the ship came to rest on her side. This may explain why the space was so large and apparently empty. I checked my depth gauge and timer and realized it was already time to turn back. We had been at 110m for a fleeting 11 minutes and had only 4 minutes more before we had to leave. The return trip took us along the starboard boat deck. A hemispherical light with a brass cage around it, drew my attention briefly. I pointed it out to Dave. This type of fitting would definitely show up in old photos. As we worked our way back we swam under the starboard docking bridge. This was a steel platform with a handrail around it. Officers could walk out to the end of this gantry to a vantage point where they could see right along the length of the ship. There was a telegraph here, which the officer would use to send manouevering instructions to the engine room below. Tempting as it was to go in search of this telegraph, prudence prevailed. I reminded myself that I was in “Davy Jones Locker” nearing the end of my planned gas supply, and still had a long decompression obligation to face. We stayed respectfully clear of that ghostly trawl that formed a canopy overhead! The ascent began with both of us looking down, reluctant to leave so soon. As we ascended up our shot line, the golden snapper once again closed around their home and the wreck faded into the depths below us.

Euphoria
3 hours later I climbed out of the water feeling a mixture of euphoria at having succeeded to dive the Niagara, a deep sense of achievement that our dive plan had worked effectively, and immense relief that everyone had returned safely. A quiet moments reflection would have been welcome to gather my racing thoughts, but it was not to be. Members of the surface team thrust a dictaphone in my face, cameras flashed continuously and a barrage of questions began! And who can blame them? Veteran Kiwi divers; they all regarded Niagara as a sort of New Zealand diving Everest. One infamously proclaimed “You knocked the bastard off!” They all dived with us in spirit, and had an insatiable need to know everything we experienced. I had planned as much of this dive as I could and rehearsed all the contingencies I could think of but I just wasn’t prepared for this reception. I hope there aren’t too many expletives!

How it started
Routine dive trips to the magnificent Poor Knights Islands inevitably include a hospitality stop in the Whangarei Deep Sea Angling Club at Tutukaka. Among the fiberglass casts of giant marlin fixed on the walls and ceiling, I noticed a small picture frame containing 3 photos. The photos showed a grand ocean liner called RMS Niagara, a small coaster with an observation chamber suspended from a rickety crane, and group of very cheerful men gathered around 3 columns of stacked gold bars! Clearly something spectacular had occurred. I went straight to the bar and asked the barmaid the story. What I heard beggared belief.

RMS Niagara
The Royal Mail Ship, RMS Niagara was designed by Coll McDonald of New Zealand’s “Union Shipping Line”, and built by John Brown & Co. in Clydebank, to the highest standards of the great ocean liners of her time. 525ft long, 66ft beam and 34ft draught with a displacement of 13,415 tons she was a luxury ocean liner. Her route lay between Vancouver and Sydney, so every voyage faced winter conditions at one end and summer conditions at the other, with tropical humidity in between, irrespective of the time of year. To maintain passenger comfort Niagara was fitted with a special new ventilation system to ensure warmth during the cold weather, and cooling ventilation during the heat of the tropics. It was the first attempt at an air conditioning system of the day. Niagara could burn coal or oil so was also one of the first “duel fuel” driven steam ships. Launched in Glasgow in March 1912 she was nicknamed the “Titanic of the Pacific” but following the tragedy of the Titanic in April the same year, the reference was dropped. Niagara’s maiden voyage began in Sydney in May 1913. RMS Niagara crossed the Pacific Ocean between Sydney, Auckland, via the Pacific Islands to Vancouver. She traveled more miles than any other passenger ship, having covered a total distance of 2,295,000 miles during her 27 year career; a record which still stands.
She served the Pacific route for over a quarter of a century and became an icon of style, quality and reliability. The Union Line considered her “their perfect ship”.

Sinking
On June 19th 1940, Europe was at war and New Zealand as part of the Commonwealth was included. Captain Bill Martin had been in command of the majestic RMS Niagara for 4 years, but this voyage was special. He was entrusted with a secret mission to ship 8 tons of gold bullion to Vancouver! There it was to be paid to the USA for “munitions” for Britain’s struggle against the rising threat of the Nazis in Europe. Japan and the USA had not entered the war when RMS Niagara left Auckland that fateful day, but the German raider “Orion” had. The Pacific Ocean was out of the range of German U boats so “raiders” were used instead. A “raider” was a commercial cargo ship fitted with various armaments including a range of artillery guns, torpedoes, a seaplane and mine laying capability. Able to disguise herself as a neutral merchantman she sought out targets using the seaplane, then came within range before revealing her true intent. A sneaky but devastating tactic. Orion became particularly notorious for her success, sinking dozens of ships in the vast Pacific Ocean entirely unchallenged. On June 13th 1940, under the cover of darkness, Commander Kurt Weyher spent his evening laying an extensive minefield in the Hauraki Gulf, the approach channel to the port of Auckland. Once more he was unchallenged during his task so completed it all too well, laying a total of 228 moored contact mines. The Niagara was the minefields first and richest victim. Ray Nelson was an able seaman on Niagara. He had gone to bed when at ~ 3.30am a blast shook the ship. He found himself pressed up against the deck head. He scrambled about in the dark for his trousers and got out to find the forward hatch gone and the deck splintered. There had been a large American car lashed on this hatch cover, but it was gone along with the hatch cover and part of the deck. Niagara was mortally damaged and settled by the head developing a list to port. All 148 passengers and 203 crew transferred to the lifeboats. Even the ships cat was “saved” but found conditions in the lifeboat less sumptuous than she was accustomed to, so jumped back aboard Niagara to become the ships only casualty during the sinking. The survivors watched the Niagara from the lifeboats, hoping she may remain afloat but at 05.30 she gracefully sank bow first. Everyone was returned safely to Auckland later the same day, but RMS Niagara now lay in “Davy Jones Locker” 120 metres down with 8 tons of gold in her strong room. Coll McDonald, designer of the Niagara, was broken hearted that his “perfect ship” had been lost, but took comfort that she “sank like the lady she was”. Captain Bill Martin went on to command other ships and completed a distinguished maritime career but Niagara remained his favourite command. This is how special the Niagara was in service, but her fame was to increase even further after her loss.

Deepest Salvage Ever Attempted ?
Needless to say The Bank of England wanted their gold back. In 1940, 8 tons of gold was valued at £2,500,000. It was lying in ~ 400ft depth, locked inside a reinforced steel strong room, within the bowels of a sunken ship, which was herself lying in an un-swept minefield. Like true bankers, they struck the stingiest salvage deal imaginable, reluctantly agreeing to pay the salvage team £27,000 expenses plus a measly 2.5% of the value of any gold recovered. (I’ve seen the telegrams in the Bank of England Archive). Despite the terms, one of the worlds most famous salvage expeditions was embarked upon. A salvage crew, led by Captain J P Williams, was assembled, and an old decrepit coaster, the Claymore, was made available to the salvage team. First they had to salvage the Claymore which had been abandoned in Auckland as a hulk. She needed major repair and refitting just to make her useable and colourful accounts of the salvage make it clear she never regained the title “seaworthy”. Her 4 bladed propeller had only 3 blades, the hull was “paper thin” and constantly needed patching and the engine broke down 4 times in one day. Despite this she was the only salvage platform available so the “United Salvage Syndicate” set about the salvage of Niagara’s gold with what equipment and expertise was available to them. They spent 2 months locating the wreck by dragging their anchor through the minefield. Not surprisingly they found plenty of mines before they found the wreck and were extremely fortunate not to join the Niagara on the seabed. Once the Niagara was located they changed tack and began salvage. Explosive charges were used but these very nearly shattered the Claymore’s delicate hull more efficiently than demolishing the way into Niagara’s strong room. Winter gales threatened to sink the Claymore as she attempted to hold position moored over the wreck. Despite the obstacles a monumental effort ensued against all the odds. Using a purpose built observation chamber Chief Diver “Johnno Johnstone” was successfully lowered to the wreck. From there he guided a grab, operated from a crane on the ship 400ft above him, by telephone. Slowly progress was made. The ship was systematically dissected exposing the bullion room then the grab began to recover gold. I later met Ray Nelson, one of Niagara’s crew and subsequently a member of the Claymore’s salvage team. He was a fine character and reminisced of the time he was aboard the Claymore cleaning mud off recovered gold bars. He would “accidentally” drop the ingots against protruding steelwork to scrape off shavings of gold! He eventually collected enough shavings to make a gold ring which he gave to a local girl. She rewarded him by high-tailing it over the horizon; so he concluded that it was ill gotten gains and justice had been done!

In 1941 the Niagara salvage was claimed to be the “Deepest Salvage Ever” but in fact the Niagara salvage had closely followed the technique used by an Italian team in 1932.
Commendatore Quaglia successfully recovered gold and silver from the P&O steamer Egypt which sank following a collision off Ushant. In 2002 I was very fortunate to join an expedition to dive the Egypt, organized by Chris Hutchison and Christina Campbell. By diving both wrecks, (using the same depth gauge) I was able to establish that the Egypt lay in 410ft and the Niagara lay in 405ft, so the dispute over which was the deepest salvage was solved; however the environment at that depth makes 5ft totally irrelevant and personally I’d rather work from a seaworthy boat and be without the mine field.

Dive The Niagara !
Imagine your ultimate wreck. No loss of life? A top quality liner? Intact? Good viz? A haven for aquatic life? Big pelagic fish? Undived? A personal challenge? Contains treasure? The Niagara was all these things and more. It was 1996 and I had just completed an open circuit trimix course. I knew at 120m deep Niagara was way beyond my skill or experience at that time. However I also knew it could be done, so became possessed with a will to learn more and to gain the necessary experience to dive RMS Niagara. At that time the New Zealand dive establishment hadn’t even come to terms with nitrox so suggesting a 120m trimix dive was like announcing a lunar landing. Everyone thought I was mad and said so. Over the next 2 years I built my experience by joining Australian trimix divers on other expeditions. I met Dave Apperley on a cave diving trip to the Pearse Resurgence where I observed that “the rocks at the bottom were just the same as the rocks at the top”. To a cave diver this “just ain’t the right attitude” but we became good mates anyway. Next I joined Kevin Denlay’s expedition to USS Atlanta in the Solomon Islands. During this expedition I was enrolled as a support diver. As well as sorting out my own skills I paid meticulous attention to Kevin’s dive planning and organization. After 3 weeks of support diving, Kevin gave me the opportunity to dive the Atlanta in 130m and in doing so, I gained the confidence to run the first Niagara Expedition.

Next step was to build a team
RMS Niagara lay less than 60 miles from home and by mid 1998 I finally thought I had enough experience to dive her. Dave Apperley had expressed a strong interest to join an expedition if I organized it. I knew I could rely on Dave so he was a cert. Members of the Auckland BSAC dive club were well versed in wreck diving procedures and could provide a potential support diver crew. In particular Brian Oxenham was an ex submariner officer and ideally suited to the surface organization role. The dive charter fleet at Tutukaka could provide boat support. Phil Bendle of Norseman Charters was our usual dive boat skipper but Norseman was too small for a big trimix dive so Phil kindly introduced us to Alastair Parsons of Reel Passion. Pete Mesley was the only other diver I knew of in New Zealand with a trimix qualification so he was invited. Keith Gordon of Searov Technologies owned a Remote Operated Vehicle (ROV) and had filmed Niagara some 10 years earlier but had never returned to the wreck. I contacted Keith to split costs and hopefully to record the dive with his ROV. If I could mobilize this lot, to all work together, in the same direction, at the same time, there was a real chance of a New Zealand Team diving on RMS Niagara. The ingredients for a fantastic expedition were in place. All I had to do was follow the example of the crew of the Claymore and make it happen!

Planning The Dives
The “4 lemons” principle was born. Like playing a fruit machine we decided it was “Probable to get 1 problem, Possible to get 2, Unlikely to get 3 and Rare to get 4”.
Plan A was to ascend up the shot line carrying our own gas supply for the entire dive. Plan B was to stage spare cylinders on the line, as back up, if our personal gas supply was low. Plan C was to release a delayed SMB if separated from the shot line. This would initiate a drop line deployment followed by a visit from a support diver. Plan D was to clip onto the shot line during ascent. If the diver became unconscious we didn’t want the diver to sink and be lost altogether. The only action the support diver could do under that circumstance was to bring the stricken diver to the surface. (As Brian maintained “court marshals are always held on the surface”) Nowadays this kind of logic is nothing new but in New Zealand in 1998 it was. We reasoned that irrespective of the problem facing the diver, first he must receive a continuous breathing supply, hence the term “any gas is better than liquid” and second he must be connected to the surface. Once the diver was supplied with a drop line both these objectives were met plus the surface team had only one course of action, irrespective of events, so confusion under stress was also eliminated. If decompression stops were missed or times overrun the diver just had to stay longer, and now had the extra gas to do so, hence the second term ”its only numbers”. (referring to the Depth / Time / Gas consumption relationship). By stabilizing the diver on a line to the surface with ample gas and the presence of support divers we reasoned there was little more we could physically do to assist a stressed diver. If the divers failed to return to the shot or to deploy an SMB we reasoned that they were “beyond aid”. The limitations of what the support crew could actually do to help, were made very clear to everyone, and it was emphasized that we were taking on the dives at our own risk. If the support team could assist us great; but they were not to risk their own safety. That’s why I always refer to them as support divers and never as safety divers. Support divers are not responsible for the safety of deep divers. They are just there to assist if they can. Finally we briefed the Devonport Hyperbaric Hospital (Auckland) and Westpac rescue helicopter of our plans so they were aware of what might come their way (which they dismissed as incredulous) (Ironically it was Dr Simon Mitchell of Devonport Hyperbaric Hospital who subsequently dived to 175m on the Centaur in Australia in May 2002)

Practice
It’s a personal obsession of mine that most divers know how to conduct contingency drills, but without practice individuals cannot co ordinate these skills as a team. Practice exposes numerous trivial problems that make all the difference between a slick deployment under stress, and a confused panic. We also found that by drilling for contingencies the very contingency is predicted and therefore avoided in the first place.
So we practiced. The first few times we dropped lines, the stressed diver below would have been psychotic by the time the operation was sorted out. Ropes tangled, the chase boat drifted, the SMB was accidentally let go, the drop line didn’t meet the diver, the stage cylinders were fitted at the wrong depths, etc etc. All simple mistakes with potentially catastrophic consequences. After about 4 attempts, techniques were modified and it soon became pretty slick. During practice for the 2001 expedition Dave Apperley sent up his delayed SMB and afterwards made the famous (sarcastic) comment to the support team: “Yer gonna have to sack ‘em. 30 seconds ‘till I heard the boat: 45 seconds ‘till they picked up the buoy: 2 bloody minutes ‘till I got gas: Shockin!”
Off the soap box and back to the yarn.

Niagara 2000
In January 2000 Dave Apperley and I chartered Lady Jess owned by Peter Saul. Base Camp was an anchorage at the Mokohinau Islands, which is superb diving in its own right plus is very close to the Niagara. Pete Saul expertly cruised over the wreck surveying with the echo sounder. Pete took the time to carefully position our shot line on the forward section of the wreck then we deployed our stage cylinders.
Dave and I were both using Closed Circuit Rebreathers or CCR's (Buddy Inspirations) for these dives. Dave also had a video to record the dive. The descent was rapid at 30m per minute but it would still take at least 4 minutes to reach the bottom. Constant monitoring of the ppO2 displays was necessary to ensure our breathing gas remained within our acceptable oxygen setpoint range. During depth changes vigilance is especially important when using a Closed Circuit Rebreather as the unit blends gas to adjust for the new depth. At 90m I heard a deep thud! I turned round to see Dave behind me pointing at his helmet mounted torch. It had imploded unable to withstand the pressure at this depth! Dave was fine so we continued the dive. The wreck came in view and we settled on the upturned hull at 105m. Visibility was excellent at 10m with plenty of natural light to provide a twilight view of the wreck. We were very close to where the bridge used to be. To our left a wall of steel punctuated by square framed windows was all that remained of the superstructure above shelter deck level. To our right lay an expanse of hull plating with rows of portholes. Beyond them (out of sight) would be the opening made by the gold bullion salvage 60 years ago. Forward was the mast now pointing horizontally. We had seen a tantalizing glimpse of this mast last year with the ROV. I opted to swim forward, then left and down, over the gunwhale towards the mast. Dave filmed as we went. (Fortunately there was sufficient natural light to capture some images) We descended to the mast base at 115m. On closer inspection I realized that the mast was also the central tower of the loading crane. This explained its structural integrity, as we had been surprised it had not collapsed. Black coral trees grew off it at various points and the crow’s nest still afforded a panoramic view over the forward deck. The view now was a scrap yard of jumbled wreckage and alongside us a vast wall of timber decking. This dive was an excellent orientation so now we knew exactly where our shot line was positioned. We left it in place ready for a second dive to explore the strong room on Friday. If a stray gold bar should be lying gleaming on the bottom, it would be rude not to return it to the Bank of England. Dave had broken the handset of his rebreather some months before while caving in Australia, but he had repaired it. On Friday our strong room dive began. As we reached 60m Dave indicated the repair had failed and he could not continue the dive. I signaled to abort the dive but Dave suggested I go on. After a minutes consideration rightly or wrongly I continued the dive alone. I arrived at the wreck and located the "strong room crater" easily. The ships hull was ripped to smithereens. Many beams and girders were grotesquely twisted and bent. Evidence of the use of explosives. The carnage was incredible. I expected to see some sort of box like strong room structure at the centre of the crater but nothing was intact. Twisted girders, sheets of warped steel plating, rust scale, pipes and other debris littered the area. I cruised over the site searching for anything regular in shape (especially if it was shiny!) but the devastation was monumental. It would take forever to sift through the debris to find any gold bars amongst that lot. No wonder the salvors classed further work as unviable! I had looked inside the "strong room" and now knew there was no easy fortune waiting for some lucky diver to stumble upon. If the missing bars are still in there somewhere they will only be found by a hell of a lot of very hard work or shear luck. My brief bout of gold fever was cured so I turned my attention back to exploring. In some places I could see beyond the damage, to large halls and rooms inside the wreck. Gaining access inside the wreck was very tempting but access from the strong room crater was far too unstable. I moved across the crater back onto the ships intact hull. Here an avalanche of debris had cascaded down the hull to the seabed at 120m. Obviously the salvors had grabbed debris from the crater and deposited it over here, clear of their working area. Perhaps I could find some artifacts among the debris? Lots of verdigris coloured fittings indicated brass or copper items amongst the trash. I picked up many small items; most were smashed (probably by the grab) I was surprised not to find anything more substantial amongst this debris but finally opted for a rather battered tablespoon as a souvenir. Once again my time was up so I ascended up the crater wall onto the hull plates then unhooked our grapnel and began my ascent. My first decompression stop was at 84m. From there I was surprised to see Dave way above me (Its really good viz here) still at 60m breathing open circuit. He had opted to wait for me as deep support diver! Thanks Dave. At 30m Pete Diamond came down to relieve Dave and check I was OK and ask if I wanted anything. The only thing I would have liked was to shorten the decompression time but that was not possible.
Dave and I had now conducted 5 man dives on the Niagara, We had dived once around the stern and now twice around the bridge area. We still had barely scratched the surface. There is so much to see down there that I guess we'll just have to plan another expedition.

Niagara 2001 / X-Force Diving
On February 21st 2001 I received the following email from Jeanie Ackley of Natural History New Zealand. They were making a series of documentaries on extreme sports for National Geographic Channel.

“Dear Tim,
Hi there! I"m back from Tuvalu where it was very hot! This is just to let you know where we are at. Judith - our producer met with Dave Apperley in Nelson and I’ve seen Pete Mesley and we are going ahead with plans to do a shoot on the Niagara in July. It would be about a three week shoot which would involve a dive in Taupo lake, a couple of dives in the Poor Knights Islands looking into some of the caves there and then 3 attempts on the Niagara wreck. Everyone would love for you to be part of this film but we understand if you can't due to work commitments. We would pay your expenses to get out to NZ if you could make it.
Let us know what you think!
Best Regards,
Jeanie.”

First I thought it was a wind up. Do things like this really happen? My skepticism was ill founded. They do, and it did. “Work commitments” were cancelled forthwith!
This was our third expedition to the wreck so we were becoming much better at organizing all the equipment and procedures. What we hadn’t allowed for on this trip was a film crew! Dave and I knew Natural History had a lot of money invested in making this film so early on we decided to treat it like a job, and not a free diving holiday. We would turn up on time, do what the crew wanted and make no fuss. Maybe if we behaved well enough they’d ask us again? When I arrived the film crew were filming “background material”. Much to my amusement our practice drills went down very well. They particularly loved the delayed SMB, so I deployed it again and again while they filmed it from every conceivable angle. When we got on to diving the Niagara the film crew could not come with us, so Dave was given a video in a housing and Pete had a camera mounted on his helmet. The director, Mike Connor, gave us instructions on the shots he wanted from the dive. We should “locate an interesting artifact, hold the camera on it for at least 10 seconds, then a diver (me) was to swim very slowly into shot, scrutinize the artifact, (without being cheesy!) turn towards the camera (without looking at it), then swim very slowly over the cameraman’s shoulder and out of shot.” At ~120m it came as something of a blast to have to act out an underwater play like this. We arrived at the wreck and set our shot line, kitted up and descended to the wreck. Dave and I settled on the Niagara to discuss the shot. This was captured on Pete’s helmet video and the sound of our helium distorted voices greatly amused the film crew. We were also asked to obtain a “Titanic Shot” of the bow but on arrival at the bow found it had been blown clean off! The Claymore lads had apparently practiced their blasting here with all too great efficiency! As consolation Dave filmed inside the third class cabins and crew quarters while Pete filmed himself picking up a cup Dave had found earlier. I descended to the seabed at 405ft and went rummaging in the debris field in search of the ships bell (regrettably without success.) From my vantage point on the seabed I could look up and see the foc’sle of Niagara silhouetted against a blue background and illuminated by beams of light from Dave, Pete and Keiths ROV lights. The scene was a surreal outer space look. It was a fantastic experience to see the wreck lit up like that so when I met Dave at 90m on the ascent. I said so; This too, was captured for posterity on the Force documentary!

Niagara 2003
My expectations for this trip were very high. Previous visits to the magnificent RMS Niagara had been awe inspiring, highly rewarding and great fun. We’d dived the stern near the hospital, visited the well deck and bridge area, looked into the strong room and explored the bow, but we still hadn’t seen more than a few percent of what was there. The expeditions had been restricted to a maximum of only two dives each on the wreck. This just wasn’t enough to build up a co-ordinated picture of the wreck. A longer expedition was required with a larger team of skilled divers. Dave Apperley organized this trip. From Australia he recruited cave divers Karl Hall and Craig Challen nicknamed the “Pack Rats” and using Prism CCR’s. From the UK I recruited wreck divers, Chris Hutchison and Christina Campbell from the Starfish Enterprise using their new Megalodon closed circuit rebreathers, plus Kieran Hulme using his Inspiration CCR. We were going to devote a full 2 weeks, to thoroughly explore, film and document as much of the Niagara as possible. Yikes!
Day One dawned fair and calm. We arrived on site in glorious weather and soon had the shot hooked to the wreck. My job was to tie in the shot ensuring the wreck was accessible for the coming weeks. I descended with great anticipation, accompanied by Kieran who at 23 is the UK’s youngest Inspiration CCR diver. At 120m we met silt covered shells and sand but no wreck? The shot had pulled out and a furrow in the seabed clearly pointed in the direction from whence it came. Bugger! I clipped on my reel and commenced swimming. After 15 minutes it was clear the tide had carried us well off the wreck so we had little option but to abort the dive and reel back. The disappointment was palpable.
Day Two dawned bright but breezy. We went for it. On site a moderate sea was running. It was dive-able but not ideal. Aquapro had promised us a RIB chase boat but let us down by failing to supply it. We scrounged a 3m dinghy with a small outboard which would be hard pushed to perform in this weather. I was the dive marshal for the day and decided I could not adequately support the divers in these conditions with the small boat. I aborted the dive and we went to the Poor Knights Islands as a consolation. I was as popular as boils and so was Aquapro.
Day 3. Rain and strong wind meant all diving was off. This was disappointing but a temporary setback. Tomorrow’s the day.
Days 4 to 8, see Day 3. We spent 6 days experiencing gales and rain; which for March in New Zealand is completely unseasonal. I was gutted. The rest of the team were philosophical and retained good humour as the wind blew day after day.
Day 9 dawned breezy “but easing”. We were desperate. We went to locate our shot lines. Both had been torn away by the weeks gales. We dropped a new shot and Karl and Craig went for it in marginal conditions. The bloody shot pulled out again so they too saw the 120m mud then had to do 4 hours of stops in an ever increasing wind. “Easing” my ass, the wave height built continuously until it was 2-3m and steep, driven by a 30 knot wind, whitening the surface of the sea. This was nerve wracking to say the least. The dinghy was totally unusable. The Western Australians were recovered intact after experiencing something resembling “endurance bell ringing”. In the last hour of decompression Craig’s Prism leaked and his scrubber filled with water. He had completed his stops breathing his open circuit bail out gases totally unfazed by the experience. On the dive boat the support team had been totally unaware of Craig’s problem. If Craig had needed help, without an effective chase boat, we would have been hard pushed to respond effectively. We had pushed our luck too far by diving in marginal conditions but fortunately we got away with it.
Day 10 the weather finally improved. We re-shot the wreck and Dave and I dived to make certain the shot was secure this time. On the descent we located one of the lost shot lines hanging in mid water. Dave secured it to our line. We reached the bottom only to see mud yet again. This time however the wreck was less than 10 ft away. A vertical wall of steel plate rising 15m to a bilge keel then curving horizontal brought us onto the coral encrusted wreck. Not a bloody thing in sight to tie the shot into. The hull was completely smooth. No wonder the grapnel had slid off. I searched for something to tie into. A curious green plastic hose was the only feature on an otherwise flat steel slab. Dave worked strenuously for 15 minutes to haul the shotline over to the hose and ensure it was secure. (As it transpired, too strenuously) I sent up a “pellet” telling the waiting divers at the surface that we were “tied in”. Dave and I then spent the last 10 minutes of our bottom time swimming forward down the starboard promenade deck. We passed lifeboat davits and looked in through square windows to the staterooms. A short time on the wreck but at least we were exploring Niagara at last. I felt relieved now that the other divers would see the wreck they came so far to explore. As we ascended Dave untangled the lost shot line and worked it upwards nearer to the surface. More work. Finally he ran out of slack at 20m so tied it off again. Below us we could now see the 3 UK divers ascending. Kieran was waving in euphoria, Christina gave me a thumbs up sign. Chris was pointing to his video. They obviously approved of their first look at the magnificent RMS Niagara. We completed our stops and surfaced. Success at last.

Bend
On the way back to Tutukaka Dave complained of a niggle. He then announced he was “getting back in”. I knew the niggle must be bad for him to do this. After ½ an hour breathing oxygen at the bottom of Tutukaka harbour Dave surfaced still feeling sore. I suggested he call the recompression chamber but he wouldn’t have it and claimed it wasn’t so bad any more. He breathed oxygen for a while with limited results then went to bed. In the early hours he admitted defeat and called Devonport Hyperbaric Unit. A helicopter whisked him to Auckland. During the flight he reported significantly worse pain despite low altitude flying. A Type 1 bend was diagnosed and Dave and was recompressed. He spent the rest of the day and following night in Devonport hospital convalescing.

Day 11 dawned fine but tension descended over the team. Dave was pronounced OK and in good hands and insisted that we continue the expedition. It was not lost on these experienced divers that Dave had pushed himself harder than he normally would because he felt responsible for ensuring the team got a dive on the wreck. There was no constructive action we could take to help him so we opted to follow his wishes and continue the exploration. Craig and Karl finally got their look at RMS Niagara. Using Silent Submersion scooters and Prism CCR’s they lapped the entire wreck. They described her from the starboard propeller to the blown off bows including the mine damage and the salvage crater so have seen more of the Niagara in one dive than I have in 6. Not a bad tool these scooters. Chris and Christina dived again too. Using VR3 mixed gas computers they achieved 2 x 120m dives in two days. Chris captured some excellent video images. Kieran and I supported the divers and buoyed the two shot lines before we left RMS Niagara for the last time. (that year)
Day 12 we packed up and drove to Auckland to pick up Dave from Devonport.
He was sore but back to his usual self. My expectations at the start of this trip were to discover and record new areas of the wreck and maybe recover some artifacts for the museum. You may be forgiven for thinking I would be disappointed as we hadn’t achieved this objective, but strangely, given the bad weather and Dave’s bend incident, the team maintained very high spirits throughout the trip. In adversity you find out what folks are really like. This team was solid as a rock and the rapport and camaraderie was legendary. We achieved some sound exploration and recorded what we saw under conditions when most would have thrown in the towel. So as we collected Dave from Devonport I recognized that the main reason this expedition was such a great success was thanks to the respect Dave Apperley earned and the example he set with his organization and expertise as he went about his chosen passion in his usual unassuming and laid back way.
Those shot lines are still there. Follow them and tell us what you find.

Technology
The first salvage on the Niagara was conducted using a 1 atm observation chamber purpose built for the job, because physics then was just the same as physics now. The salvors faced the problem of not being able to use the standard “hard hat divers dress” The problem was that the diver could not breathe air at 13 bar. Oxygen is toxic and nitrogen is narcotic, plus decompression penalties are excessive at ~ 400ft. So they used the 1 atm chamber to overcome the pressure problem, however the air in this chamber still needed replenishing. They achieved this using a simple rebreather. CO2 was absorbed by a scrubber the size of a baked bean can, filled with soda lime. There was minimal risk of a caustic cocktail because the chamber should never get wet. (If it did they had bigger problems than a CO2 toxicity hit) The metabolised oxygen was replenished from a 40cuft Oxygen cylinder. This set up provided up to 10 hours duration. Since then the hard hat divers dress has been superseded by open circuit scuba, increasing mobility but still using air. The introduction of mixed gas in Scuba equipment has enabled deeper free swimming dives, but the penalty is the exponential increase in gas consumption with depth. On the first Niagara dive in 1999, I had carried 5 x 100cuft cylinders to conduct a 15 minute bottom time and complete all the decompression stops. I had minimal reserve, relying in part on staged cylinders on the shot line and on drop lines from the support team if something went wrong, and had to swim through the water towing all that ironmongery along with me. It was impossible to dive any deeper or for longer than 15 mins bottom time without having to change cylinders during the ascent. Not very efficient and down right risky if you don’t make it back to your staged gas. During the same dive Dave Apperley used an Inspiration Closed Circuit Rebreather. He had an unlimited gas supply, plus optimised decompression gas during his ascent. It’s a no brainer. Since 1999 I’ve used a Closed Circuit Rebreather for all my dives. However the weakness in this plan is immediately revealed should the rebreather fail. I was still relying on Open Circuit scuba for bail out. With longer bottom times I would need far more bailout gas. Dave had addressed this by using a dual circuit rebreather. Essentially this comprised two fully independent rebreathers built into one backpack. It took some work to maintain 2 loops with breathable gas and control volume and buoyancy but he was up to the task. Since then I have used my rebreather a lot and (touch wood) it has never let me down, so perhaps the bail out plans are sometimes excessive for the risk encountered? More and more divers are using rebreathers these days and skills and experience are growing. The technique of using a decompression station connected to the main shot line by a “Lazy Shot” means the team stays together. When the last man ascends, the whole unit can be detached from the shot line to drift with the tide. This makes the dive boat skippers job much simpler plus spare gas can be staged on the station. Surrounded by a team of divers the “self help” options become far wider than they used to be, so now “alpine” diving is a serious option. By minimising the clutter of excessive equipment the diver becomes more efficient and less likely to encounter problems in the first place. The next logical step for deep exploration is to address the limitations revolving around long in water decompression stops. When conducting 5 hour run times drifting in the open sea, and hypothermia are major considerations. Perhaps the future will see saturation diving techniques used?
Tim Cashman

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