But the damage of the biggest maritime disaster in recent California history had already been done — both in the diving community and to the public’s opinion of diving at large.  

In the wake of the disaster, a new narrative has surfaced in Santa Barbara, the place widely recognized as the world’s epicenter of commercial diving. Longtime divers and diving instructors here admit that theirs is a story of contradictions: Their passion, their profession, they know, is a dangerous one, the peril being up there with astronauts, soldiers and test pilots.

It’s also the only profession in the world they’d want to do.

“These workers are exposed to the same hazards anyone would if they spent extended periods of time underwater, such as drowning, respiratory and circulatory problems, and hypothermia,” the U.S. Labor Department’s Occupational Safety and Health Administration says. “The number of dives, length of time spent underwater, lack of visibility, and the strenuous nature of the task increase the risk of this type of activity.”
 
But is the risk worth the reward? And what is the future of diving in Santa Barbara?  

‘There are old divers and there are bold divers’ 

“As an educator, I think the answer might be it’s safety, safety, safety,” Dan Vasey, a former commercial diver who teaches the marine diving technologies program at Santa Barbara City College, told SFGATE. “That said, it’s not if you’re going to get bent, it’s when you’re going to get bent.”

Bent refers to getting decompression sickness or the bends, injuries that can happen after exposure to deep water pressure. But the bends aren’t the only danger. Commercial divers who live and train here are routinely exposed to all kinds of hazards: toxic and nuclear waste, garbage and sewage, oil spills. There are also the dangers that come with moving heavy equipment or machinery in the pitch black, far beneath the ocean’s surface. 

Why do they do it? One simple answer may override them all: money. 

The job is punishing, with inherent dangers and unrelenting hours. Professional divers also need an array of skills, from welding to shooting video, to operating heavy equipment, to robotics. Those who spend a decade working up the ranks and honing their skills are often rewarded financially.  

“At one point, a good diver could afford a new house in Santa Barbara every three months,” Vasey said. “It may not be quite that now, but there’s money to be made. The thing is, we’re going down 200, 300, 400 feet from the surface. That’s a lot of hose — and there’s always, we teach this from Day 1, no matter how much we do, it’s a risk.  

“Diving can be one of the most dangerous things you can do, that’s why — in this program and others like it — our whole emphasis is on life support and doing things the right way.”  

Vasey also maintains the perception of diving, especially in the wake of the 2019 tragedy, is “probably not completely accurate and part of that is from events that make headlines and part of that is some of the stories you hear divers tell.”

Other longtime divers and diving instructors feel Vasey’s assessment is accurate: “We have this saying that there’s old divers and there’s bold divers, but there’s no old, bold divers,” retired commercial diver and diving instructor Don Barthelmess told SFGATE. “I’m no longer young or bold, so I guess you know what that means.”

Vasey noted there are an increased number of exceptions to that divers’ axiom, and a lot of it has to do with the role technology is playing. “Everything improves, everything gets better,” he said. “You don’t have to get beaten up now underwater. The precautions we take now are better than ever and they’re improving. People like to tell you how dangerous the business is, and we spend a lot of time training so it’s not. Rarely, it’s a complete failure. Cables do break, things go wrong. But people are getting hurt, if they’re getting the bends, it means someone is doing the wrong thing.”

‘A different breed’ 

But even with improvements both above and beneath the surface, the core of what makes a diver a diver remains very much the same, longtime divers say.

“Divers tend to have a little more … there’s something that attracted this to them in the first place,” Vasey said. “Maybe they’re a little boisterous, but keen. They’re watching what’s going on, and they’re hard-working. They pay attention. They do the right thing, and they do it with some off-color joke. There’s everything from very, very contemplative, and intelligent people to people who are just the opposite. It is a different breed. You spend time with some of them, and you’ll see it.”  

Santa Barbara’s diving roots date back to the first recorded human activity here. The Chumash, who have lived in the area for about 12,000 years, used abalone and other shells for food and currency and might have obtained them through free-diving. In the 1850s, Chinese and Japanese arrived in Santa Barbara to participate in the abalone diving trade.

The modern era of diving began right after World War II. In peacetime, diving returned to the shores of Santa Barbara, with a mostly white and male diving population, Barthelmess explained. And while the divers’ source of income immediately following the war was in abalone and urchin hauls, another industry would soon take hold: offshore oil.   
 
“This whole program has been going since 1968 when offshore oil was becoming a thing,” Barthelmess explained, “and they needed people who were able to work on that infrastructure.”  

Drilling for oil here began in earnest in 1953, when Congress passed the Outer Continental Shelf Lands Act, which would “grant leases to the highest qualified responsible bidder to aid in offshore resource exploration.”

The opening of offshore waters for oil exploration ushered in the “Wild West days of commercial diving,” Barthelmess said.

Oil companies went to work immediately and built what would eventually be 27 giant offshore oil platforms between Huntington Beach in Orange County and Point Arguello in Santa Barbara County, 18 miles southwest of Lompoc. “That’s about the time Dan did his thing,” Barthelmess said. “It changed everything.”  

Dan is Dan Wilson, a legendary diver who dove 400 feet deep into the waters off Santa Cruz Island in 1962. Wilson used a mixture of helium and oxygen and became the first to survive at that depth in recorded history.  

“The helium rush is what we call it — that was huge for the whole diving world. That was it, that was our moonshot,” Barthelmess said, explaining that breathing compressed oxygen alone at about 80 feet starts a process known as nitrogen narcosis. “You basically start to get really drunk down there.” At about 184 feet, the pressure of the oxygen in a scuba cylinder turns toxic, he said, and then “you pass out and die.”  

Santa Barbara, the epicenter of diving technology

But Wilson’s underwater feat showed what was possible. Suddenly, Santa Barbara was the only place for divers to push ever deeper into the deep.

Technological advances were led by diver-inventor Bob Kirby and diver-surfer Bev Morgan, who started their eponymous company Kirby Morgan here. The diving equipment manufacturer, now located an hour north in Santa Maria, continues to design and build state-of-the-art helmets and equipment. 

Divers from around the world came to train as a wave of innovation swept through the region. One of them was a London-born diver, diving historian and founder of the Historical Diving Society, Leslie Leaney, who ended up on the shores of Santa Barbara and decided to stay. 

“Diving changed my life,” Leaney told SFGATE. “It was here, meeting the greats like Bev and Bob, understanding how every aspect of modern life essentially begins with work done offshore — really brings into focus how diving changed everything.”  

Diving takes its best to unexpected places

Today, diving in the region and beyond continues to change in scope and innovation. The program at SBCC, which offers an associate’s degree or a diving certificate, is now training its candidates for the next generation of commercial diving’s needs.

“People make the mistake of thinking we’re all oil field-related,” instructor Vasey said. “You think of all the dams and bridges and buildings and power plants — there is a lot of infrastructure in this country and around the world that’s underwater. Anything underwater, the divers take care of.”  

With oil platforms on the way out, “we’re looking forward to wind farms, decommissioning, desalination. When those contracts come up, that’ll be a boom for this industry for a diver,” he continued. 

“That’s a part of it, yes,” Barthelmess said, noting that starting pay is mediocre. “But there’s a cost in everything. You have to know how to adapt and how to adapt quickly. You have to remain calm and think clearly — the mental aspect and the discipline.”

The number of licensed divers who find the profession isn’t for them is high, he pointed out. “Most new divers will wash out,” he said. “The attrition rate is 70 to 75% in the first five years.” 

Diving is now a profession that has spread worldwide, to places both on and offshore, and into situations that mix skill sets that don’t often come to mind.

“I get calls all the time from guys who say, ‘Hey, I’m a rock climber,’ or ‘I’ve been a roofer, heights don’t bother me.’ But let me tell you, there’s a hell of a big difference between being 30 feet up on a rock face or roof and being 150 feet on top of a round tower that is swaying in the wind,” diver Chad Campbell told Scuba Diving magazine. “Being a diver isn’t enough, you’ve also got to be a mountaineer.”

‘Diving gives everyone an opportunity to be part of something’

Despite the risk, the lure of learning a trade and having a job that could potentially yield a financial windfall while working on tomorrow’s technologies continues to draw a more diverse crowd of students, Vasey said.  

“We’re now seeing all races, backgrounds — and women especially have started to dive,” he said. “One of my best students, who is a recent graduate, is doing fantastic. She just broke out as a diver with Aqueos in a very short time. She’s only been with them for two years. Normally it takes three years or so. She’s doing great. Definitely more women getting into the industry.”  

But as the industry looks ahead, some more seasoned divers, including Barthelmess and Leaney, are taking a moment to look back. The pair, with the support of the city of Santa Barbara and the Santa Barbara Maritime Museum, are raising funds to build a deep-water diving monument.  

“Right now, they’re working on raising money for a monument to be put in at the harbor here in Santa Barbara,” Rita Serotkin, a spokesperson for the museum, told SFGATE. “It’s such a big part of our past, present — and future.”

Diving endures here not because of changes in technology or a rich history — or even for those looking to get rich from a job that only a few can survive and do well over a sustained period. What gives diving staying power, what makes it worth the risk, Barthelmess contends, is the people.

“Diving brings out, I feel, the best in human nature,” he concluded. “People want to be part of something, and diving gives everyone an opportunity to be part of something. It makes you say, ‘I’m contributing. I’m making a difference. I’m part of this team, this unique team.’ Nobody else has a job like that.”