I just spent three weeks hanging out with some maritime archaeologists on a dive course. They are very interesting people and it was a hoot getting to know the parallels between their field and my own, and seeing the sea through the lens of their research. We did some work on the wreck of one of Australia's oldest colonial wrecks, the Clarence.
Their passion and determination were impressive. I was paired with one of their number for the rescue drills. At less than half my weight, she was concerned that she wouldn't be able to save me from the simplest situations, but realising she might one day need to do so for real, set herself about finding the leverage and buoyancy to get my faux unconscious carcass back to the surface from the range of challenging scenarios we were set.
Another dealt with a fear of heights in the high entry situations, and calmly switched to her bail out air supply after using all her main gas and waited quietly for the standy diver to cut her out of a genuine emergency in zero visibility.
Maritime archaeologists not only exist, but if the cross section to which I have been exposed is anything to go by, they are hard as nails and don't so much face their fears as chase them into dark alleyways, trap them against a chain link fence and kick them into a state of unconsciousness.
Maritime archaeologists - don't piss them off.
A maritime archaeologist on her way to hand out underwater justice to some wreck raiders.
Jack up barge from which maritime archaeologists are trialling a new approach to documenting and conserving wrecks.
Giant strides at height - harder when the tide is out.
Pool rescue drills - any chump can find the casualty and bring them home using their eyesight.
