Read Online Killing Keiko by Mark A. Simmons - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Mark A. Simmons
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“bones” of the bay pen and the outer rings were made of
large, high density, foam-filled plastic tubes called HDPE, thirty inches in diameter.
The black tubes were straight sections of various lengths and bolted together via
enormous flanges on each end. These tubes provided the buoyancy and the structural
integrity that kept the bay pen in one piece. However, flexible to a point, they also
allowed movement. The bay pen would literally undulate and swell with each passing
wake like a crowd at a football game doing the “wave,” a contorting ripple that warped
the pen from end to end and side to side. This happened in weather, of course, but
also in calmer waters with the passing of shipping traffic in or out of the channel,
often a dozen or more times per day.
The pen was anchored by a series of ship anchors, several tons each, that ran off
in many directions. They were not visible from the surface, but later in the project,
I would get a good look during maintenance dives. The first impression is that of
a completely tangled mess, but they were, in fact, a systematically balanced and tensioned
mathematical wonder that kept the pen from complete annihilation in pretty insane
weather and currents. The operations team constantly worked to achieve the ideal tension
equilibrium amassedbetween the maze of cables. If one side or line was off by just enough, the resulting
imbalance could swiftly break the pen to pieces.
A very course grid work made of fiberglass called “Chemgrate” was laid horizontally
about a foot or so above the structural tubes. This constituted the deck and made
the bay pen walkable. The surface coating had to be super rough in order to provide
a stable foot-grip, but if any ever fell on it, they might fare better dragging their
face across a cheese grater. Outside of the main deck areas in the middle of the pen,
the grate only provided about a two-foot-wide passage around the expanse of the two
main pools. Exterior handrails made of the same high-density plastic kept us from
being blown off the deck and into the bay, but nothing offered protection from taking
a plunge into Keiko’s side of the pen.
Underwater, nets hung from all sides beneath the structural tubes that formed the
shape of Keiko’s pools. They completed the pen’s confinement perimeter. The bottom
of the facility, about thirty feet deep, was also netting, but attached to the vertical
net walls by a large concrete ring underneath, constituting the entire diameter of
each of the two main pools. The rings weighted the net, maintaining the pool’s shape
and providing somewhat of a sea anchor to the structural integrity of the pen itself.
At low tide, the suspended bottom of the bay pen was only a couple feet from touching
the ocean floor. During high tide, it might extend as much as twelve to fifteen feet
from the bay’s floor, stretching the anchor cables to their fullest. There were times
that this extensive variation occurred in minutes rather than hours at the hands of
many violent storm surges that plagued Klettsvik Bay in the winter months. The befuddling
matrix that formed the anchor system was actually the front line in the bay pen’s
survival.
The “research shack” was out of this world. Never in my wildest dreams did I expect
to find such plush accommodations on the pen. Heck, I was even amazed that there was
power, or at least hardwired power! I expected things to be run from a generator.
Nothing doing, and although they had a backup generator the sizeof a Volkswagen behind the dive locker, the main power and a phone line were run along
the bottom of the bay straight out from the town. They even had Internet access!
The light green research shack was like something found on a construction site, only
this one was in much better shape. Measuring approximately thirty feet long by ten
feet wide, there were only two doors to enter or exit:
large, high density, foam-filled plastic tubes called HDPE, thirty inches in diameter.
The black tubes were straight sections of various lengths and bolted together via
enormous flanges on each end. These tubes provided the buoyancy and the structural
integrity that kept the bay pen in one piece. However, flexible to a point, they also
allowed movement. The bay pen would literally undulate and swell with each passing
wake like a crowd at a football game doing the “wave,” a contorting ripple that warped
the pen from end to end and side to side. This happened in weather, of course, but
also in calmer waters with the passing of shipping traffic in or out of the channel,
often a dozen or more times per day.
The pen was anchored by a series of ship anchors, several tons each, that ran off
in many directions. They were not visible from the surface, but later in the project,
I would get a good look during maintenance dives. The first impression is that of
a completely tangled mess, but they were, in fact, a systematically balanced and tensioned
mathematical wonder that kept the pen from complete annihilation in pretty insane
weather and currents. The operations team constantly worked to achieve the ideal tension
equilibrium amassedbetween the maze of cables. If one side or line was off by just enough, the resulting
imbalance could swiftly break the pen to pieces.
A very course grid work made of fiberglass called “Chemgrate” was laid horizontally
about a foot or so above the structural tubes. This constituted the deck and made
the bay pen walkable. The surface coating had to be super rough in order to provide
a stable foot-grip, but if any ever fell on it, they might fare better dragging their
face across a cheese grater. Outside of the main deck areas in the middle of the pen,
the grate only provided about a two-foot-wide passage around the expanse of the two
main pools. Exterior handrails made of the same high-density plastic kept us from
being blown off the deck and into the bay, but nothing offered protection from taking
a plunge into Keiko’s side of the pen.
Underwater, nets hung from all sides beneath the structural tubes that formed the
shape of Keiko’s pools. They completed the pen’s confinement perimeter. The bottom
of the facility, about thirty feet deep, was also netting, but attached to the vertical
net walls by a large concrete ring underneath, constituting the entire diameter of
each of the two main pools. The rings weighted the net, maintaining the pool’s shape
and providing somewhat of a sea anchor to the structural integrity of the pen itself.
At low tide, the suspended bottom of the bay pen was only a couple feet from touching
the ocean floor. During high tide, it might extend as much as twelve to fifteen feet
from the bay’s floor, stretching the anchor cables to their fullest. There were times
that this extensive variation occurred in minutes rather than hours at the hands of
many violent storm surges that plagued Klettsvik Bay in the winter months. The befuddling
matrix that formed the anchor system was actually the front line in the bay pen’s
survival.
The “research shack” was out of this world. Never in my wildest dreams did I expect
to find such plush accommodations on the pen. Heck, I was even amazed that there was
power, or at least hardwired power! I expected things to be run from a generator.
Nothing doing, and although they had a backup generator the sizeof a Volkswagen behind the dive locker, the main power and a phone line were run along
the bottom of the bay straight out from the town. They even had Internet access!
The light green research shack was like something found on a construction site, only
this one was in much better shape. Measuring approximately thirty feet long by ten
feet wide, there were only two doors to enter or exit:
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