After this first mission Bascom is assigned an even crazier one (it will turn out that his missions simply get successively more nuts). Isaacs and his team had been working on a project with the US Navy to measure the seismic and aquatic waves generated by nuclear bombs they continued to test in the South Pacific after WWII had ended. Bascom was asked if he wanted in on the mission. Seeing it simply as another adventure, he accepted. This sets the tone for Bascom’s attitude towards the military more generally — he thinks some of their motives and methods are fishy, but he is not going to lose an opportunity to further ocean science. In order to measure the waves from the explosions Bascom and colleagues set up a buoy with a cable running to shore, linked to a recorder box inside of a fallout shelter.
The first of such tests was on the Bikini Atoll. Bascom notes that the US Navy had all the inhabitants relocated before they set off the bombs, but that this had some negative repercussions for the islanders. For one, the Bikini Atoll was rich in fruit and bird and fish life before the tests. The island that the natives were relocated to was not as hospitable to human inhabitants. Years after the testing, deeming it “safe” to move back, some of the islanders were re-relocated, only to fall sick of radiation poisoning — so much for that. Bascom does not scold the US military for this or outright take them to task for it. It is clear, however, that he was critical of the practice, however much it furthered his own career. He did not have to put it in the book, but he did. Bascom himself suffered from cancer. When he stopped doing the wave tests in the South Pacific, his cancer finally went into remission.
What is nuts to me is that much of the technology used to measure waves offshore was developed during these nuclear tests. Our ability to simply check the buoy pages and predict swells cannot be historically unlinked from such events. The specific technology has to do with the cables and the recording devices. In the Oregon wave surveys they were using observation, photography, and sounding techniques to measure the waves, and now they were experimenting with buoys and cables.
The cable experimentations continued after the nuclear testing. Some still relied on man made underwater explosions using TNT — here Bascom’s mining and oceanography work really coalesced — but others were just attempts to moor a buoy out at sea and to have it successfully read the swells that came through the water. One such attempt occurred in Monterey Bay where Bascom set up shop on Cannery Row for a couple of years in the early 50s. He hobnobbed with likes of Doc Ricketts and John Steinbeck. Steinbeck and he actually became quite good friends. Bascom and Isaacs were trying to set up a buoy in the Monterey Bay and run a cable through the dunes to a recording station onshore. This mission was thwarted by the large, unpredictable surf that rolls in there. I know this surf quite well — it’s what I grew up surfing in. There is a funny anecdote in this part of his tale about the Army sending out some of their aquatic men to help Bascom with the job, but Bascom warns them that the water is really cold and that the surf is too dangerous to try it. They ignore him and send their guys out anyhow — they all nearly drowned, but made it back safely, and didn’t help with the cable one bit. Wetsuits had not yet been invented.
It just so turns out that Bascom was there when wetsuits were invented at a Navy pool in southern California. He was also there on the cutting edge of the first SCUBA equipment and the first underwater photographic equipment. For many of his missions he did the diving, photography, engineering, and lab reporting. It makes me wonder whether or not my grandfather, Dr. James A. Mattison Jr., ever knew Bascom. My grandfather, a surgeon by training, was also an early underwater photography and SCUBA pioneer, who lived in the Monterey Bay at the same time as Bascom. Maybe it would explain why Bascom’s books were in all of our houses? My grandfather may not have been quite as influential as Bascom, but he did quite a lot. He spearheaded the conservation of the sea otter in the Monterey Bay and made a film with Jacques and Philippe Cousteau, established the first hyperbaric chamber in the Monterey Fire Department for divers who came down with the bends, experimented in early aerial photography of the Monterey Bay, constantly pioneered advances in underwater medicine, and wrote a book on Captain Cook’s third and last voyage. That is to say that both men had a vast and intense interest in the ocean and in what I now feel is an antiquated notion of adventure — antiquated because based upon and steeped in the ideology of western colonialism where adventure and exploitation can be seen holding hands. Yet there is a conservationist bent as well — that ‘good’ part of conservatism that seems gone in all but name.
As to whether my grandfather and Bascom ever knew one another, I’ll have to ask around. Bascom’s work hits home in another regard: he developed the engineering that makes deep sea drilling possible. This is close to home for me because at the time of my birth my dad was a deep sea diver that worked off of oil rigs around the world. It was Bascom who came up with the engineering for both the drilling and the platforms. Originally his plan was not to aid the oil industry. Instead he and a few other scientists were working on a project that could take the spotlight off of the Russians having won the space race by launching Sputnik. Being ocean-minded, they wanted to take the public eye off of space, and bring it back down, deep down, to earth. Their project was to see whether they could get a core sample of the layer of earth beyond the Mohorivic zone. They dubbed this project the “Mohole”. After much deliberation and proposing they won their grant and Bascom got to work. The two largest engineering issues were: a.) how to get a platform steady enough over deep enough water to drill the hole — the platform would have to stay over the hole; b.) how to make a drill big enough and strong enough to bore miles into the earth’s crust. Bascom succeeded at both. For the platform he designed a multiple propeller system called a Dynamic Positioning System that was controlled by a joy stick. For the drill they used diamonds donated by the De Beers Anglo American company. I write the full name of the company because yes, just the fact that the company was called that is itself really fucking nuts.
After he has done all of this work for UC Berkeley, Scripps Institute, the US Navy, and the US Academy of Sciences, Bascom goes on to start an oceanographic engineering consulting firm. This firm would bring him to even wilder jobs like mining for offshore diamonds in South Africa, searching for buried treasure ships off of the Bahamas, and designing a tension bridge that could ostensibly span the Straights of Gilbraltar. Just how all of this links up in the course of one life is truly astounding. And if some of this sounds wildly problematic, it should, because it is. I see Bascom, again like my grandfather, as a man from an age of old conservatism, where there is a reverence for science and for humankind, but coupled with a palpable sense of domination and exploitation of natural resources. The basic idea is that the earth is here for us to know and to ‘mine’ so that we can better flourish as a species. But there is very little reflection on what actually constitutes this flourishing. At least in my grandfather’s case he saw that the sea otter was in danger and needed saving. I have troves of his research that detail the different ways that sea otters were dying in the Monterey Bay. Bascom, on the other hand, is more suspicious about those who think that the animals can’t take care of themselves, arguing at one point that we need not fear of polluting the oceans because the ocean is big enough to cycle through and filter out all of the waste, including nuclear, that we throw into it. He does say, however, that we should be worried about putting waste into less circulating, smaller bodies of water.
Bascom ends the book with these thoughts on the future:
No one can foresee the future very well; usually prognostications fall far short of what actually comes to pass, but I will suggest a few technologies that might be used to make man’s harvest of the ocean more efficient. Perhaps a new material can be devised (now jokingly known as nonobtainium) that will be light, workable, corrosion-proof, and with several times the strength of present materials. Possibly fish or other marine animals can be genetically changed to improve their size and edibility as much as turkeys have been improved. Maybe duterium can be extracted from the sea and be used as a fuel or that the heat of undersea volcanoes can become a practical source of energy. Perhaps some atoll lagoons will be made into huge fish farms and special structures something like oil platforms will be built in coastal waters as fish havens. Possibly sea barriers will be constructed on a grand scale, capable of holding back rising sea level at coast cities, or creating new and larger harbors, or making perimeters around airports in shallow waters. Perhaps it will be possible to obtain panoramic pictures of large undersea features so we can directly see what trenches, faults, and canyons look like. I fully expect that deep water oil operators and bridge foundation builders will make use of tension leg platforms and that archaeologists will find complete ancient wrecks in deep reducing environments using the techniques I have suggested. That is the system: dream about what could be useful; then work to convert dreams to reality (317-8).
Well to me a lot of Bascom’s dreams sound more like nightmares. I don’t want to eat genetically modified fish. I suppose the only platform on an atoll I’m comfortable with are the ones currently there as judging platforms for the surf contests, but now even those I am starting to question. Large perimeters around cities and airports sounds like a lot of ruined surf breaks to me. This really shows that despite the fact that Bascom understood waves better than most, he truly was not a surfer. He was more concerned with stopping waves from harming human industry than he was with riding them. We have people and thinking like his to thank for the ruination of surf spots all over the world. But we can’t be too quick to condemn. We also have people like him to thank for the jetties that keep sand on our beaches, and for the satellite imagery that actually can show us what the trenches, faults, and canyons look like from above. In fact now the buoys that we read are a combination of depth sounding instruments and satellite technology. We now do know more about the currents and flows of the ocean and the migrations of the animals and how human experimentation and meddling in the ocean environment does have negative repercussions for human and animal alike. And yeah, the oil industry did take Bascom’s ideas for deep drilling and run with them — by the way, they dismissed him at first when he consulted for them and then took the idea to the bank, but of course to devastating effects. As my dad says, “If it’s too deep for a human to fix the pipes, it’s too deep to safely drill.” I think Bascom’s overall sentiment, however, is correct, but that his premises are wrong. We must dream of a better future and create the technologies to realize it — that’s completely sound. But we must also base our notions of “better” on what constitutes a more flourishing environment not just for humans — or on the idea that flourishing for humans needs to start from the perspective that the earth is not ours to dominate but to steward.
In closing, I think both books should be on the shelf of any ocean enthusiast. It’s crucial that we know the history of oceanography and also its basic principles. Bascom’s work on wave and beach dynamics alone will enlighten your everyday experience surfing. And despite my critical stance on his philosophy of adventure, I think his adventures are also worth reading about. In a way I didn’t even scratch the surface.