Doin‘ it Right (DIR)

Update! Read the DIR response to our original piece.

How to rig your outfit the DIR way.
Please note: It would be extremely irresponsible, dangerous, and foolish for you to assemble and wear this rig without understanding exactly why you’re doing it and what each little detail means.

Keep it simple
Too many people today seem under the impression that more is always better. The basic principles of the DIR outfit are this:

1. Remove all unecessary equipment – take all you need, but only what you need.
2. Each member of the team should be wearing an identical outfit. This makes it easy to understand each others equipment and in an emergency, kit can be swapped or cross patched.

Lets look at each item starting from the top.

Almost goes without saying that it should be kept short, no more than 1 inch on top. For easy identification, it should be parted slightly to the left.
Other styles:
A French crop would appear to be a suitable alternative at first glance, it presents a number of problems:
1. A considerable increase in task loading as it requires visiting a decent hair dressers in the first place and then regular maintenance after that.
2. Usually requires some form of gel/mousse. The use of hair products is strictly for strokes and only serves to increase drag and reduce efficiency.
Other Syles to Avoid:
Quiff – too much task loading due to the maintenance
Mullet – although popular in Holland and Germany, it really doesn’t get any more unfashionable than this. And anyway a hair cut named after a fish? – I ask you.
Curly mop – although it requires no real maintenance there is a distinct likelyhood of being mistaken for Sheck Exley, Rob Palmer or Bill Stone (the horror of it).
Moustache – not strictly a hair cut, you may end up being mistaken for one of the above. It can create an even worse scenario when combined with cropped hair – you just end up looking like one of the Village People.

Simple wire rimmed are essential as they are light and unobtrousive. Designer glasses are not acceptable because they are too individual and therefore cannot be interchanged with another team member in an emergency.

This is a key part of the outfit and whilst there are many t-shirts on the market, the DIR shirt must have the following criteria:
White Eygptian cotton
Short sleeves – the correct length must be 5 inches – any longer and there is a risk of entanglement, any shorter and there is a risk that they’ll look like those cap sleeve T-shirts that were worn in the 70s (thus precipitating a major fashion incident).
T-Shirt markings
The DIR logo on the front should be at least 3 inches high, as you will be instantly recognisable anyway, and there should be no other markings on the T-shirt. Beware of large oversize type as this is dangerously 80s (eg Frankie Says Relax).
The back of the T-shirt should have a much larger logo (at least 12 inches) with the words ‚No Strokes‘ written on it. This will allow you to be clearly seen by other team members who may be looking for you in a conference room or busy pub.

There is no excuse for incorrect T-shirt markings – although other agencies recommend other sizes and colours it may lead to other team members failing to recognise you.
Always analyse your T-shirt before wearing it. Picking up a T-shirt from the drawer or the shop without properly checking it first could be dangerous. A recent incident occured when a Genesis Tour T-shirt was mistakenly bought from a shop (the label hadn’t been checked) in the belief that it was actually a bonafide DIR T-shirt.

Levis regular 501’s with the button fly. The key thing about these is that they have the correct number of pockets and most significantly, exactly 5 belt loops of 1 1/2 inch diameter. This standardization allows team members to cross patch their equipment during a major trouser emergency.
There has been an trend away from jeans and towards combat trousers in the belief that the extra pockets will come in useful. This is wrong. Its just a just fashion thing as the extra pockets creates an atmospheric trapping effect, thus increasing drag.

Brown leather, 1 inch in width. These fit best into the 501’s belt loops and stay properly in place. Extras like studs should be avoided as they may snag.

Timberland desert shoes. Colour:sand. Makes for easy identification of other team members and allows for interchangeability if you end up putting your foot in it and ending up on your back-up shoe. Avoid boots as they create drag (especially in thigh length patent leather)

Must not be cross threaded through the islets as they will make removal and replacement difficult in the event of a major shoelace failure.

Leather, rubber, studs – just say no to bondage gear. This is Doin‘ It Right! (not an S&M convention – though lets face it, easy mistake to make)
Mark Brill, 1999

After posting this on the Tech Diver Mailing list, we received this typically stern response from one of the DIR divers (George Hamilton IV or someone)…

What you morons need to understand is that to wear any thing other than White Egyptian cotton, you would have to be an blithering idiot. How many people have to die before you strokes get a clue. There is no excuse not to have the right equipment. Rayon, Silk, 50 50 blends. These are nothing but attempts by manufactures to take advantage of all you strokes. The catwalks have displayed some of the most dangerous stupidity ever posted.
I am real sick of amateur bullshit opinions whether they come from 5th Avenue or Pairs. We do not need displays of drooling ignorance, such as long sleeves. If the insulation provided by 5 inches is insufficient you should abort your excursion. I’ve been wearing T-shirts longer than most of you have been alive!
I learned the hard way. The fact is that I know what it is like to come out from hell with only Haynes on my back.
I don’t buy cheap ass bullshit gear for Evening Dress, and only a stroke would do so.
Suits are some of the worst examples of idiocy I have ever seen, like collared shirts, with ties no less, have resulted in fatality after fatality.
You can not get around the logic of the system, and when you start adding other things, you are asking for confusion, trouble and mutations that will end up killing somebody.
Are any of the basics of DIR making any sense to the strokes yet, or do we need more research?

But if you really want to know how to rig your harness, go to
There’s more on DIR at

Diving with the Dude

By Kevin Juergensen ( The Dude)

My Latest Dive with McKenney

I called my ex-wife, to ask her if I could borrow some of the kids support payments so I could go to Fiji with McKenney and my 17 year old blonde actress girlfriend, Candy. For some reason, she got really pissed off (she s really irrational sometimes). So while she was at work, I broke into her house (well, I still have a copy of the housekey…), and had a moving company take all of her furniture to the local pawn shop (I left her the microwave so she could still heat up some Stouffers for the kids).
After collecting the $500 bucks for all of her furniture, I was off…

Turns out that $500 wasn t enough to buy the plane ticket, so I faked her signature on the Visa card that I borrowed from her to buy the tickets for me and Candy. I don t know about you, but I didn t feel like flying coach for 14 hours. First Class is the only way to go, and nothing is too good for my Candy.

After sipping champaigne and eating lobster for 14 hours, we finally arrived in Nadi, Fiji. I was a little short on clothes, and so was Candy, so I took her to Jacks for a complete wardrobe. Once again, that ol Visa came in handy.

Before I left, I had Candy call the ex’s Credit Union, pretending to be her, and wire transfer the kids college fund to Bio-Marine Instruments for a pair of CCR-155 rebreathers to be shipped via Gulf Stream jet to Fiji for us to use on the trip. I had never used one of these before, but Kato told me they were really cool, and that I would look like a real diver with one on my back. Besides, McKenney had one, and he s pretty cool, so I bought em.

I met McKenney on the island of Matagi, where I booked Candy and me the honeymoon bure. This is where the first problem of the trip occurred: Nigel informed me that the Matagi Island Princess II had been booked by a group of gay Orthodontists who wanted to take millions of pictures of soft coral – one of the most boring things that god ever made, if you ask me.

Well, the last thing I wanted was a group of tooth-fairies cluttering up the boat with their neon colored wetsuits and tanks. Let em buddy-breathe in PNG I cried. Besides, McKenney said that cool divers only wear black, and that it makes you move quicker through the water if you look like a ninja.

So, I decided to buy the boat. I had borrowed some checks from my ex s employer, so I forged her signature and transferred all of their bank account to the Matagi folks offshore Cayman bank. (Hey, the ex has a good job, she ll be able to pay it off in a few years…).

Finally, we had the boat to ourselves. On the day before we set sail, McKenney and I drank lots of Kava. We decided to play some cards, and he lost badly. I wound up owning his entire film library, his house, his car, and also his slave, Bob Keet. I think he didn t mind losing the library or the car, but he was particularly pissed off about losing Keet. Why, he s the best boy I ve ever had lug my gear he cried over and over. “ Too fuckin bad,“ sez I. Although I did feel a little bit bad, since I was using a marked deck that my uncle Vito had given me.

So the next day, were on the boat. Candy spent the entire time puking up banana daquiris and bitching about there not being any tampons in all of Fiji. (Jeez – women are sometimes more trouble than they are worth…).

McKenney agreed to set up my rebreather, since I didn t know anything about them except they looked pretty cool. We re going pretty deep on our first dive he says, so I ll set your ppO2 to 3.6 ata.
Is that where its supposed to be? I said, Sure, since we ll be at 300 fsw for most of the dive, that ll just about do it…
He had a funny look on his face, but I guess he was just feeling awkward since he now had to pay me rent to live in his house.

So we get to the dive site, a place called Champion Reef. Its out in the middle of nowhere, but they assure me that its down there. I went down to the stateroom to see if Candy wanted to dive. She said no, then puked all over my Ninja Black dive booties.
McKenney insisted that safety was a primary factor in our dive, so I geared up with all the required stuff that he said was necessary. In addition to my rebreather, I had 4 80cf bottles with the most unique manifold I ‚d ever seen (all four tied together) that led to a second stage made by some company in East Germany (I think the same one that made their cars).
I had three knives strapped to my chest, and both legs.
I also carried 4 Dive-Rite square lights, signal flares, 2 SpareAirs, 2 Dive-Rite reels, 3 safety sausages, 2 redundant Dive-Alerts, 500 assorted cylume light sticks, and a Riffe 5 foot long quadrupel band speargun with a .50 cal. powerhead and 200 rounds of ammo.

I looked at McKenney (who was wearing only his rebreather and pony bottle) on the swimstep and said you sure I need all this stuff? Sure he said, „until you re used to handling emergency situations like me, a REAL diver, you need to carry this stuff. “

“ O.k “ sez I… I also had to put on about 65 lbs. of weights, since McKenney said that the rebreather was really positively buoyant.
Well, the moment of truth came. We were over the spot, and the captain of the boat gave us the thumbs up sign. He looked at me, and shook his head sadly as I returned the salute. I guess he was just envious of all the gear that I had.
Well, we were off…
I broke the surface of the water, and immediately began sinking faster than the Lusitania. I looked up at McKenney as I descended at 200 feet per minute.
He gave me an are you o.k? sign with his middle finger (he explained that gesture to me as only being used by tech-divers ).
I knew that something was wrong, and yet I was so touched by this simple, kind gesture of a man that I had somewhat taken advantage of, that I just couldn t burden him with my concerns. I returned the gesture as a symbol of our friendship.
As I descended further, I was startled by the sound of something exploding – it was my Dive-Rite lights, the ones that George Irvine had sold me at that garage sale. Shoot I said, I m gonna get my money back from George. Fifty cents apiece is a lot of money .
I decided that I needed to add some air to my B.C, since I had just passed the 600 fsw mark, and my ears were beginning to hurt. I pumped my b.c. to the point where I was cutting off the blood flow to my neck, but I still was dropping fast.
„Damn “ I said, “ I need a better BC…“
As I passed the 1000 fsw mark, things got pretty dark, but the water was full of these bright shiny objects that just floated around in front of me. I saw lots of colors too in psychedelic patterns….
I then saw the weirdest thing… I tunnel of light opened up in front of me that seemed to stretch on forever. I saw figures at the other end, and thought I heard them calling my name. A man approached, and as he got closer, I noticed that he was Orson Welles. How s Merv Griffin doing? he asked me. „How the fuck should I know, Orson “ I replied.
You wouldn t happen to have a pork-roast on you, would you? Orson asked me. Or a gallon of heavenly-hash ice cream? Nope, sorry Orson I said.
“ Well, don t come back here until you get some!!“ he thundered, like the voice of God. He then turned away, which was really gross, because he was wearing one of those hospital gowns with the backside open, and his butt looked like a hairy version of the Blob … The tunnel of light disappeared, and I thought I heard him mumble rosebud… .
Just then, I felt this incredible banging sound on my back – turns out the bottom of one of the 80 cf. bottles had impaled itself on the sunken anchor of some Spanish Galleon that had sunk in the 1800 s, and now rested on the bottom in 2000 fsw. The impact knocked loose a chest that was on the bow of the ship, which fell onto my lap. Just as I was pondering this find, the hull of the tank gave way, and all 320 cf. of compressed air started coming out the bottom of the single tank.
Va-voom!! I rocketed up through the water column like a Trident missle. I felt a sudden SLAM! at about 350 fsw, but didn t see what I had hit.
Then all of a sudden, I breached the surface, and saw the clouds. I probably got about 50 feet of air when the tank finally was empty.
The next thing I know, I ve landed on the sun-deck of the Matagi Island Princess II….
I’ve got a chest full of gold on my lap, and as it turns out, a trophy-class marlin caught between the manifold of my tanks. (The gold was valued at over $300 million, and the Marlin made the Guiness Book of World Records, and got me an appearance on the Tonight Show, and a 3 picture deal at Paramount).
I removed my gear, and went below to see Candy, and tell her of my strange vision of Orson.
When I got to my cabin, there was McKenney in bed with Candy. I was quite surprised, and rather shocked. So were they…
Just before I started to get mad, though, McKenney explained to me that he got pretty narced on the dive – so much so that he started thinking he was ME. He must have been pretty convinced himself, cause he managed to make Candy believe it as well. Well, since he thought he was me, and Candy did too, I told them it was all right, and asked them if they wanted fish for dinner…
Candy was so happy to see me, that she got a little too excited, and started to throw up all over again. Poor girl… When McKenney saw the gold, he started throwing up too. I guess he really did get narced bad…
Well, anyway, I decided that McKenney was a true friend, so I told him that I was going to let him keep Bob Keet.
Besides, with the rent money he was now going to pay me, and all the gold I had found in the treasure chest, I was going to be able to hire my own help.
I decided there and then that when I got back, I would hire the ex to clean my house for me – as long as she didn t ask for more than $5.00 an hour.
On the trip back to L.A. McKenney was rather silent. I guess the beauty and majesty of the South Pacific was still with him. I know he still wonders at the mystery of the place as well, because all the way home he couldn t stop muttering „I can t fuckin believe it, I can t fuckin believe it! “
When we arrived in L.A. I hugged my good friend McKenney goodbye, and reminded him that the rent checks were due on the first of the month.
As we parted, he gave me the tech-diver are you o.k? sign. Once again, I returned this gesture of friendship, and headed home to my new house in Malibu… I dropped Candy off at the bus station and gave her $10 toward her ticket home, even though I really don t believe in charity…
McKenney is now planning a trip for us in the North Atlantic. He says that I ll be the first diver to reach the Titanic on air. But first, I have to take Katos deep air course in the Mariana s…

I just thought you’d all like to hear my story…


Diving with the Dude

By Kevin Juergensen ( The Dude)

My Latest Dive with McKenney PartII

After our return from Fiji, I was quite busy counting all my money from the treasure I had found and depositing it in my Swiss Bank account. I came home to my 200 acre estate in Bel Air to relax from the rigors of counting $500 bills.

As I was sipping a pink lemonaide in my Versace lawn chairs, I noticed my friend McKenney was mumbling as he mowed my 140 acre lawn with the manual mower (I don’t believe in polluting the environment with hydrocarbons, and gas is sooo expensive these days).

As he passed by me, I could tell he must have been angry at the garden pests he encountered, because he looked at me, and I could hear him mumble „Fuckin‘ lousy worm. Stinkin‘ lousy worm“… over and over.
I decided then and there that I needed to take my friend on another dive adventure.
To that end, he told me that he had heard that there was some great diving off the Scottish coast, where the water was warm, clear as daylight, and had virtually no current. „That’s where you belong, dude“ he said. Well, a recommendation from McKenney is as good as gospel to me, so we were off.
I had to make some preparations first: I contacted my friends in the Clinton administration (I had made these friends when I contributed $100,000 to the „Save Hillary’s Butt“ crusade, which provided the first lady with a continuous supply of Winchells Doughnuts to preserve the first-butt…) to get permission to use the U.S. Navy’s new XBZ-6000 Mark 36 plutonium-powered rebreather. One was shipped to me via Apache Helicopter the next day.
McKenney told me that in order to maximize my use of this unit, I had to complete Kato’s Deep Air course, which was now being taught in South Florida, at a place called „Wakulla“. As soon as McKenney packed my bags, as well as Buffy’s (my current flame that I met waiting for her „date“ on Sunset and Vine in Hollywood) we were off.
On the flight over, Buffy had some problems figuring out how to use the towell dispenser in the airplane restroom, so McKenney volunteered to help her out. Two hours later, they both emerged, and by the smiles on their faces, I could tell that she had finally got the difficulties of air travel licked.
Kato met us in Florida, and we proceeded to drive in his 1965 Plymouth Valiant to Wakulla. Kato had a bumper sticker on the back of his car that read „Deep Air es Muerte!“, and a licence plate that read „OTOX 1“. Since I don’t speak Spanish, and I’m not very good with anagrams, I didn’t quite understand what they meant. McKenney just smiled at my questions and said „you will soon, dude…“ I was elated. My continuing dive education had begun!
On arrival at Wakulla, my new scooter was also waiting for me. I had the boys at Los Alamos Nuclear Lab build it for me. It had a Westinghouse 750 hp motor driven by a internal nuclear reactor that connected to a 4′ diameter prop, and was capable of cruising in excess of 260 knots at a rated depth of 20,000 FSW.
I decided to try it on my first dive.
We hit the water, and immediately began to descend. Since the XBZ-6000 weighed in at over 400 lbs. I began to descend rapidly.
McKenney gave me the techdiver „are you O.K?“ sign (a raised middle finger) immediately. I signalled back that so far, I was fine. He then gave me the techdiver „check your PO2“ sign (which is a motion of pointing at me, then grabbing his crotch up and down). I checked the PO2 on my secondary display. It read 3.0 and climbing, which is what Kato and McKenney had set it for („Can’t get too much oxygen“, said Kato).

Comfortable in the care of my two good friends, I proceeded to enter the cave system, powered along by my scooter. As I entered the cave, I noticed a legend in the community, George Irvine, III, coming out of the cave. He had in tow about 6 divers who must have been practicing their breath holding technique, for none of them had their regulators (which were attached by short hoses) in their mouths.

I waved enthusiastically at Mr. Irvine, since I was in awe of meeting this great man. In return, he too gave me the techdiver „are you O.K?“ sign. Can you imagine, this great man, in the middle of a training exercise for what I learned later was the „King/Stone Exploration Project Team“ would take the time out to ask if I was o.k? I was thrilled!
As I got deeper into the cave system, I turned on my square lights that McKenney had loaned me, and saw the most amazing things. Being new to cave diving, I had never imagined how beautiful cave systems were.
By this time, my friend McKenney must have decided that I was ready to fly solo. He swam up to me, and with a last „are you O.K?“ sign, he placed a zip-tie over the throttle of my scooter, and cinched it all the way down. Immediately, I took off accelerating rapidly. As I looked back, both Kato and McKenney were giving me the „Check your PO2“ sign in unison. Since it had stabilized at my set-point of 4.5 I decided to concentrate on steering the scooter, since it was getting close to its cruising speed of 260 knots.
Everything began to blur in my vision, which I attributed to my excitement at all the new experiences I was having. I kept passing all these arrows, and line running along side the cave walls, until suddenly they stopped. I must have travelled a good 12 miles beyond the last one, when suddenly my square light exploded.
Not to be deterred, I reached into my b.c. pocket and pulled out my Bic squeeze light that I kept for just such an emergency. It worked very well, and lit the rest of my journey.
Before I knew it, the cave seemed to have a wall at the end of it. I struggled to remove the zip-tie that McKenney had placed on my throttle (he is such a kidder, my pal…). Before I could remove it, all the lights went out, as I slammed into the wall at just over 275 knots.
I must admit, I was a bit dazed at the impact, and thought that perhaps I had lost my liver. I immediately began to feel very warm, and it was hard to move, since the water was very thick at this depth.
The next thing I know, I am forcefully blown out of the 75′ deep hole that my impact bore into the granite face of the cave. Everything was black, and even my Bic squeeze light was no help.
It took me a while to realize that I had slammed into a sub-terranian crude oil vent, that was now pushing me out of the cave about as fast as I went in.
I wanted to share this new discovery with my friends, so I restarted the scooter (which had somehow lost the zip-tie) and began my journey out.

Along the way, I stopped at the point where the line and arrows had stopped, and began to remove them inch by inch. I don’t like people cluttering up our natural resources…

Upon my exit from the cave system you could imagine the surprise on everyones face when I emerged from the water covered in oil.
Everyone had this dissappointed look on their face, which I didn’t understand until I realized that I had interrupted their DAN „mouth-to-mouth“ resuscitation training with Buffy. It was really touching to see that the entire WKPP team were willing to help my friends Kato & McKenney contribute to Buffy’s diving education…
Mr. Irvine was particularly surprised when I handed him over 2 miles of line and arrows that I had retrieved from the cave system. He simply stared at it, and with a tear in his eye began yelling over and over „SMD! SMD!!!“ which I figured must mean „Some Magnificent Diving!“. I was truly humbled to receive such a compliment from this wonderful man…
In the parking lot, we passed by several ambulances which were carrying the King/Stone Expedition team to their next phase of training. I was very proud to be in the company of such advanced technical divers, I turned to take one last look at Wakulla and could still see Mr. Irvine running up and down the shore waving his hands wildly in the air and yelling „SMD!!“ over and over. I caught his eye, and he gave me both the „are you o.k?“ sign and the „check your PO2“ sign, which I took as a reminder from him to practice safe diving wherever my travels take me.
Since the shore was now covered almost completely in crude oil, a gentleman from the EPA had arrived. I asked him if he knew Mr. Irvine, and he said that Mr. Irvine was the permit holder for Wakulla.
„He’s in it, deeper than you can possibly imagine“ said the man from the EPA. It was gratifying to know that our government recognizes the talents of our citizens…
As it turns out, the area in which my scooter impacted the rock was just below land that McKenney had lost to me a month before in a poker game we had played after he had finished polishing my golf clubs. He didn’t seem to mind losing it too much, since he called it „swampland“ (which he said is Indian for „Good land to build real estate development on“). I knew that he didn’t know much about real estate, so losing it wouldn’t bother him too much.
Well, I immediately got a call from the folks at Shell Oil, and they want to start drilling the land, and pay me over $12 Billion for the rights to do so. When I told this to McKenney, some of the sushi that Mr. Irvine bought for him must have upset his stomach, because he immediately ran to the side of the road and started throwing up.
I had had a bit too much excitement to continue on to Scotland, so I decided to give Buffy $5.00 for a taxi ride to the nearest youth hostel (my new experiences, I felt, had made us grow apart), and head on home to Bel Air…
Back at my estate, sipping some 200 yr. old brandy, I reflected on the close friendship that formed the bond between McKenney and I. I watched him quietly, as he continued to mow the lawn (friendship is friendship, but he is still working off his poker debt to me. I AM a man of principals, after all…).
Sweating in the 90 degree heat of the sun, I noticed that he continued to mutter „that rotten, stinking, fucking worm…“
It is disturbing that I took him on this vacation to forget his daily battle with the insects that live in my lawn, but he continues to hold a grudge. I think I’ll plan a dive to Antarctica this summer, when its nice and warm, to try and get his mind off that silly little worm…

Diving with the Dude

By Kevin Juergensen ( The Dude)

My Latest Dive with McKenney Part III

So there I am, relaxing on the grounds of my estate, drinking a pina colada, and watching my friend McKenney digging a 30 x 60 x 25 deep hole in the ground for my new dive pool. Sure, I could have hired some contractors to come in with back hoes, but I like to save money where I can, and McKenney is still working off that gambling debt. Since the temperature had climbed to 102 degrees, and he was shoveling dirt with a small hand trowel that the old gardener, Jose, had left behind when I fired him, he was sweating profusely.

McKenney I cried, why don t you take a five minute break, and drink some water from the garden hose? He made a face, and uttered some remarks that I couldn t understand.

Poor devil. It was so hot, and I was interrupting his work. And get me some ice for my drink while you re at it I said. To this, he began to swear under his breath. I smiled, since I knew my friend well, and he is most dedicated to the task at hand. I had angered him, by stopping him from finishing the hole that he so dilligently dug.

When he returned, and threw the ice in my glass, I ignored the dirt that had moved from his hand, to the ice, to finally, my drink, and decided then and there that I should make it up to him for keeping him from his chores.

How about a dive? I said. At first, he looked forlorn. I wondered secretly if he hadn t enjoyed our previous outings. But as he stared blankly at me, a small smile began to cross his face, which then spread into a broad grin. Before he spoke, he was positively laughing out loud.

A Dive?? A Fucking Dive??? Have I got a DIVE for you!! he yelled with tremendous relish. This pleased me no end, since I like to see my friends happy.

Where shall we go? I asked, enthusiasm building within me by the moment. Hawaii, dude. Bottom of a god damned reef in Hawaii. That s where you belong he said while smiling and darting his eyes quickly back and forth in thought.
Wonderful I said. We‘ ll go tomorrow!
I had recently ordered the tape Doing it Right by Mr. George Irvine III so I knew the kind of set-up I wanted. Have you seen Doing it Right II ? he said. No. I didn t know he did a sequel I replied.
Well, George realized what a mistake he had made in the first one, so he did it over again. He s a pal of mine, so I ll set you up just like him my friend said.
I was simply overjoyed at the idea of using the same techniques as the famed WKPP divers of Florida, even though Mr. Irvine was still a bit ungrateful that I had cleaned up Wakulla on my last dive by removing all those pesky lines and arrows, but since one must accept the eccentricities of greatness, I decided not to hold a grudge. Besides, he still sends me post cards with the tech diver „how are you?“ symbols of „SMD! SMD!!!“ written all over them…

McKenney departed for about two hours. When he returned, he had several large K bottles marked Argon, Hydrogen, and Oxygen . He began to build my rig immediately. He had assembeled a set of triples, using one Argon bottle, one Hydrogen bottle, and one Oxygen bottle, and attached it to a Transformer pac, which I had never seen before. It had lots and lots of D rings, however, and looked quite technical. He had also purchased a large game bag for holding the 60 lbs. of lead that he said I would need for just the right buoyancy .

I was set, and we were off.

Upon arrival in Hawaii, I was surprised to see our old friend, Dick Kato waiting for us at the airport. When I inquired as to why he decided to join us, McKenney interrupted his response to say we both want to see that you re taken care of, completely… They both smiled at this, which made me feel wonderful to have such good friends to look out for me.
On the day of the dive, I thought we were going to go out on a dive charter boat, but my friends had decided to pick up a used Zodiac for our trip. The place we re taking you to is secret, dude, Kato said. Yeah, we don t want no witnesses – I mean, other divers learning about our spot McKenney interjected. Kato gave McKenney an unpleasant look, which I took to mean that maybe he wasn t too happy in sharing this special spot with others. Don t worry, boys. I‘ ll keep this place secret to my grave I said. This seemed to make them both very happy, and they chuckled as they looked at me.

Once we were at the dive site, we noticed another boat in the horizon, which worried us all. Not wanting to give away this secret spot, we decided that I would drop in the water with all my gear, while Kato and McKenney pretended to fish.

Once I had manuvered the gear on my back, my friend McKenney lifted a Haskell pump and attached it to my D rings.

This is the latest in tech-diving, dude.“ he said. „You make your bottom mix while you are on the bottom so all the gas is properly blended. Well , I thought, Too bad Skin Diver magazine isn‘ t doing an article on this. Since it s Mr. Irvine s favorite magazine, I m sure he would read all about my dive using his new techniques.
Both McKenney and Kato were looking at me with smiles on their faces. Time for you to go, dude McKenney said. And with that, he motioned to Kato who then pushed me over the side, while both of them gave me the tech-diver „Good Luck“ sign by placing their left hands on their biceps, while raising their right fists in a jerking motion.
As I hit the water, I began to sink rapidly. Unfortunately, in our haste to get me rigged up, it seems as thought my friend forgot to connect my b.c. inflator. As I dropped like a stone, I could still see them on the boat giving each other a high-five.
Can you imagine the pride I felt at that moment, knowing that I had such dear friends who could rejoice in my learning experiences? I wanted to tell them, but since I wasn t able to communicate with them, I set myself to try and get my buoyancy straight.

But as I passed the 375 foot mark, I noticed something large swimming below me. It then disappeared. I was beginning to get concerned that I should try and control my rate of descent when suddenly, the bottom of my tripple tanks struck something with a bang! Meanwhile, I felt something soft beneath me, since I had stopped in a sitting position. When I looked down, I saw a man wearing a Cis Lunar Mark IV rebreather. I knew immediately that there was only one person in the world who dove to these depths with that kind of rebreather – the legendary Richard Pyle. „That must be his boat we saw over the site“ I thought.
I wanted to say hello to Mr. Pyle, but it seemed that I had punctured the bottom of one of my tanks – the Hydrogen one. A spark from striking the rock must have ignited the gas, because I started to ascend with incredible speed.

My last view of Mr. Pyle was of him sinking rapidly with lots of bubbles coming out of his center section. If I hadn t been forcefully rocketing to the surface, I would have suggested to him that he use a BioMarine unit in the future – those Cis Lunars seem to eminate tons of bubbles from every orifice.
As he sank rapidly, he looked up at me and gave me the techdiver are you o.k? sign with both middle fingers raised. I am constantly struck by how concerned my fellow tech divers are of each other. What a joyous bunch of fellows to make up this brotherhood…
Unfortunately, I was unable to respond in kind, since he was sinking as fast as I was rising. I was moving with such incredible speed, that all I saw was blue streaks in front of me.
Once I reached the surface, the only sight I saw was the surprised look on my friends McKenney and Kato s faces as I passed through the very center of the Zodiac. I must have attained an altitude of about 2000 feet before I landed in the water, just off shore of a resort that I had purchased a month before from the proceeds of selling McKenney s library, which he had lost to me during a poker game in Fiji.

As I swam to the shore, my employees rushed out to help me with my cumbersome gear. Out in the distance, I could see the Zodiac sinking, and my friends begin a fun swim to the shore. They even stopped to play with some Orca s that were feeding on spinner dolphins. I could tell that they were both having fun as the killer whales tossed them back and forth through the air like bean-bag dolls – they were both screaming and waving their arms frantically at me with joy. They were having so much fun, I decided to leave them with their new-found friends of the deep.

We haven t heard much from them, or Mr. Pyle in quite a while… I hope they don’t stay in the water too long, they could get all wrinkly…

Once onshore, I noticed that one of my tanks had caught one of Mr. Pyles nets, which contained a previously undocumented beautiful fish. I named this fish the Kevin-Pyles-McKenney & Kato fish. Turns out, its skin releases a substance that cures most human diseases. I m set to receive the Nobel Prize in a few months, and have licenced the substance to the Burroughs/Wellcome Pharmaceutical company, under the direction of Peter Hezeltine for $1.6 billion in cash and stock.

Diving with my friend McKenney is so much fun. He has taught me a lot about diving, as well as my other good friend, Kato. I can‘ t wait to use my new found skills on my next dive with Mr. Irvine…




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