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Just how pointless is the DSSD?

Mark9117

Active Member
31/5/12
310
0
0
So my question is simple. WHY?

I'm pretty sure I blew my chance at having any cred at all the day I showed up here, so I'm willing to risk an actual response to this question. It's not an authoritative opinion, just what I've pieced together after doing some research for my next purchase - a rep Rolex DSSD.

After WWII there was a boom in offshore oil production. It was a tricky business that involved a lot of high technology, notably saturation diving.

The relatively modest depths of well heads was still deep enough that bounce diving simply wasn't able to keep up. Divers had to spend too much time on decompression stops so as to make meaningful dives impossible. The response was a nearly insane system that housed divers in a high-pressure, Helium-rich environment that could be lowered to the well head when needed and worked for weeks at a time, or until the captive divers went insane and tried to kill and eat one another. Fortunately, the episodes of homicidal cannibalism were few and far between. Okay, none of that actually happened, but other stuff did.

The concept behind "saturation diving" is that the human body can only absorb so much gas under pressure. Given the 150 - 300 feet or so (150 feet is generally considered the limit for bounce diving on regular air) that these divers were working, a special mixture of Oxygen, Nitrogen, and Helium was required, and it was required under considerable pressure, the deeper you were working, the higher the pressure had to be. Nevertheless, the body's tissues can only absorb so much gas before it is "saturated". Once saturated, the decompression time is essentially fixed and won't get any longer or more complicated even as pressure increases.

So, you've got your well-paid, well-conditioned saturation divers living in the high-pressure, Helium-rich environment until it's time for them to not be there. At that point, the environment is slowly and carefully decompressed and the breathing gas fed to it is reformulated to include more Oxygen, which is toxic at high pressures, and less Helium, which is inert and has little more effect than making you talk funny. Try it sometime. It's great at parties.

You'll noticed that I glossed over some details in that last paragraph. How quickly should the depressurization happen? How is the gas that the divers are breathing be changed, and how quickly should that happen? Well, that's what all the experimentation was about in the late 1950's early '60's. Guys like Jocques Cousteau and Henri Germain Delauze of COMEX were risking their lives trying to figure this stuff out.

Interesting anecdote which is key to the whole reason I'm writing all this: On one of the ConShelf experiments, one of Cousteau's sons, probably Jean Michel, was in decompression with his fellow divers when they heard a small explosion in their diving bell. Since explosions of any size can be really bad in a place like that, what with all the pressure, Oxygen, risk of dying from decompression sickness and all, they started poking around to see if they could discover what happened. They eventually discovered that Jean Michel's pricey new Doxa dive watch had blown out its crystal.

Experts were consulted. Experiments were conducted. Alcohol was, no doubt, consumed. Eventually it was determined that the tiny molecules of Helium had snuck into the watch case, probably under the crystal, and then had been compelled to leave when the environment was depressurized. Since the watch was designed to be "water proof", the Helium molecules found the path of least resistance out of the watch case -- they blew out the crystal.

So, watchmakers were confronted by the inconvenient and damned annoying fact that simply making watches strong enough to withstand the pressure of the ocean depths without flooding was not enough, they were going to have to produce watches that could also withstand the rigors of decompression without 'assploding in the diving bell.

The experts were convened and companies like Doxa, Omega, and Rolex formed partnerships with the Cousteaus and COMEX and started designing and building monster watches that could handle the job. These were to be technologically sophisticated timepieces that required massive resources to conceive, design and build. This would be lucrative work.

As the work was done, watchmakers learned to design and build watches that could withstand more and more pressure. They designed a Helium escape valve that would prevent the watch from exploding when decompressed and required no human intervention to do the job. They refined one design after the other increasing the performance and upping the ante at every turn. Designers and builders took it as a point of pride every time the depth rating on the watch dial was increased. Managers of the watch companies were thrilled that their product was leading the cutting edge of submersible wristwatch technology. Those managers were also thrilled because they stood to make money.

Once upon a time, not that many years ago, the saturation divers that I wrote about a few paragraphs above relied on actual, mechanical watches. This became less critical as industrial "hardhat" diving developed. It has practically disappeared for all divers with the advent of battery powered dive computers. But back then men were men and they used tools. The watches designed for these men were totems of their clan. They were men's men. Men of action on a dangerous, adventure seeking fortune and glory. And that meant that they were competitive with their tools and it was important to be prepared -- to have the best. Often times, that meant the newest, most robust Deep Sea Sea Dweller Rolex could ship. And price was seldom an object.

Gone are those days, but the iconic wrist watch remains. There is almost no reason at all for anyone to wear a mechanical wristwatch today, but some of us do. We're men's men seeking fortune and glory in the boardrooms, showrooms, and call center cubicles all over the world. And for some of us, the DSSD reminds us who we are and where we came from even if it's merely a stunningly accurate replica powered by an inexpensive Asian movement. Ugly? Sure it is, to some.

But then, so are we.
 

davylloyd

I'm Pretty Popular
22/2/10
1,154
1
0
I'm pretty sure I blew my chance at having any cred at all the day I showed up here, so I'm willing to risk an actual response to this question. It's not an authoritative opinion, just what I've pieced together after doing some research for my next purchase - a rep Rolex DSSD.

After WWII there was a boom in offshore oil production. It was a tricky business that involved a lot of high technology, notably saturation diving.

The relatively modest depths of well heads was still deep enough that bounce diving simply wasn't able to keep up. Divers had to spend too much time on decompression stops so as to make meaningful dives impossible. The response was a nearly insane system that housed divers in a high-pressure, Helium-rich environment that could be lowered to the well head when needed and worked for weeks at a time, or until the captive divers went insane and tried to kill and eat one another. Fortunately, the episodes of homicidal cannibalism were few and far between. Okay, none of that actually happened, but other stuff did.

The concept behind "saturation diving" is that the human body can only absorb so much gas under pressure. Given the 150 - 300 feet or so (150 feet is generally considered the limit for bounce diving on regular air) that these divers were working, a special mixture of Oxygen, Nitrogen, and Helium were required, and it was required under considerable pressure, the deeper you were working, the higher the pressure had to be. Nevertheless, the body's tissues can only absorb so much gas before it is "saturated". Once saturated, the decompression time is essentially fixed and won't get any longer or more complicated even as pressure increases.

So, you've got your well-paid, well-conditioned saturation divers living in the high-pressure, Helium-rich environment until it's time for them to not be there. At that point, the environment is slowly and carefully decompressed and the breathing gas fed to it is reformulated to include more Oxygen, which is toxic at high pressures, and less Helium, which is inert and has little more effect than making you talk funny. Try it sometime. It's great at parties.

You'll noticed that I glossed over some details in that last paragraph. How quickly should the depressurization happen? How is the gas that the divers are breathing be changed, and how quickly should that happen? Well, that's what all the experimentation was about in the late 1950's early '60's. Guys like Jocques Cousteau and Henri Germain Delauze of COMEX were risking their lives trying to figure this stuff out.

Interesting anecdote which is key to the whole reason I'm writing all this: On one of the ConShelf experiments, one of Cousteau's sons, probably Jean Michel, was in decompression with his fellow divers when they heard a small explosion in their diving bell. Since explosions of any size can be really bad in a place like that, what with all the pressure, Oxygen, risk of dying from decompression sickness and all, they started poking around to see if they could discover what happened. They eventually discovered that Jean Michel's pricey new Doxa dive watch had blown out its crystal.

Experts were consulted. Experiments were conducted. Alcohol was, no doubt, consumed. Eventually it was determined that the tiny molecules of Helium had snuck into the watch case, probably under the crystal, and then had been compelled to leave when the environment was depressurized. Since the watch was designed to be "water proof", the Helium molecules found the path of least resistance out of the watch case -- they blew out the crystal.

So, watchmakers were confronted by the inconvenient and damned annoying fact that simply making watches strong enough to withstand the pressure of the ocean depths without flooding was not enough, they were going to have to produce watches that could also withstand the rigors of decompression without 'assploding in the diving bell.

The experts were convened and companies like Doxa, Omega, and Rolex formed partnerships with the Cousteau's and COMEX and starting designing and building monster watches that could handle the job. These were to be technologically sophisticated timepieces that required massive resources to conceive, design and build. This would be lucrative work.

As the work was done, watchmakers learned to design and build watches that could withstand more and more pressure. They designed a Helium escape valve that would prevent the watch from exploding when decompressed and required no human intervention to do the job. They refined one design after the other increasing the performance and upping the ante at every turn. Designers and builders took it as a point of pride every time the depth rating on the watch dial was increased. Managers of the watch companies were thrilled that their product was leading the cutting edge of submersible wristwatch technology. Those managers were also thrilled because they stood to make money.

Once upon a time, not that many years ago, the saturation divers that I wrote about a few paragraphs above relied on actual, mechanical watches. This became less critical as industrial "hardhat" diving developed. It has practically disappeared for all divers with the advent of battery powered dive computers. But back then men were men and they used tools. The watches designed for these men were totems of their clan. They were men's men. Men of action on a dangerous, adventure seeking fortune and glory. And that meant that they were competitive with their tools and it was important to be prepared -- to have the best. Often times, that meant the newest, most robust Deep Sea Sea Dweller Rolex could ship. And price was seldom an object.

Gone are those days, but the iconic wrist watch remains. There is almost no reason at all for anyone to wear a mechanical wristwatch today, but some of us do. We're men's men seeking fortune and glory in the boardrooms, showrooms, and call center cubicles all over the world. And for some of us, the DSSD reminds us who we are and where we came from even if it's merely a stunningly accurate replica powered by an inexpensive Asian movement. Ugly? Sure it is, to some.

But then, so are we.
Well, I said in my very first sentence that I expected to get flamed for my question, and in places I did.

What I DIDN'T expect was such a well thought-out and considered answer. What can I say but WOW! and thanks.

I think some people misunderstood my intention, which was not to take a swipe at the DSSD, but to question the overkill in the design. I'm well aware what a fantastic piece of engineering that watch is.

As for whether the watch is good looking - well like all things, ask 100 people and you'll get 100 answers, and for me the jury is still out.