Some years ago, I was asked to write a feature about the worst liveaboards in the world. It was easy. I
didn't need to do much research. I simply wrote about the ones I had experienced and, shamefully, even
one that I had worked on as a dive guide.
Many divers tend to be rather naïve when making travel decisions (unless, of course, they read
Undercurrent). They are led by marketing hype, brand image and features that are important to them personally.
When they choose a liveaboard for a diving trip, they are often keen to confirm that the cabin will be
large and comfortable enough, the food will be to their taste, and that the vessel looks like their idea of the
sort of luxury yacht that will make their friends and neighbors envious of their dive trip. Quite rightly so.
However, recent tragedies that have happened in the world might give us pause for thought. Who
would have thought that a magnificent luxury cruise liner would run into a reef near an Italian island
and turn turtle? Or that a modern Boeing 777 would simply disappear in flight, or that another would
be brought down by a missile? When we choose a liveaboard, we should remember one very important
aspect: It is not simply a hotel, it's a vessel floating on the surface of the ocean, and only by the grace of
Archimedes' principle.
Coming back from a dive to find that your mother ship no longer exists is an experience that will live
with you forever. Abandoning a vessel during a trans-ocean crossing is not something I'd recommend as
a character-building experience. Swimming with nothing more than what you were wearing in your bunk
(mainly nothing) because your vessel went down in the night might save your life but it takes the edge off
your vacation. You might think that these are extreme examples, but they have all happened recently and
on more than one occasion. (As proof, read my most recent story, "Fire Aboard !" in the August issue.)
So what tips can I give you to help think about choosing a safe liveaboard?
First, there are mainly two types of hull construction, wood and metal (usually steel but sometimes
aluminium). Wooden vessels are quick and cheap to construct, and easy to repair -- but then, they need to
be. Back in the early '90s, the steel-hulled motor yacht Lady Jenny V that I worked on as a dive guide in the
Sudan ran onto the reef top nearly every night when the wind changed, and the impossibly difficult skipper
refused to accommodate that idea when we moored. If we had been in a vessel with a wooden hull, it
would have been damaged, possibly fatally, the first time. But the heavy German steel of our vessel took it
out on the reef each time rather than the other way around. We crew only had the regular task of pulling
it off as soon as we heard the first telltale groaning sounds that were only matched by our own when our
much-needed sleep was interrupted. Today, most Egyptian liveaboards are built from wood, and despite
being finished to afford the height of luxury for the passengers, the Red Sea is littered with the remains of
those that "touched" the reef.
That said, nothing sinks quicker than a steel vessel full of water, which is where water-tight doors
become essential. If a vessel is divided into sections separated by water-tight doors, safety in a worst-case
scenario can probably be assured. I remember the owner of the newly-built steel MV Oyster, proudly showing
me around and pointing out a water-tight door at one end of the companionway below decks, but being
unimpressed when I pointed out that the stern end had no such protection and was effectively open to the
sea. After some years of operation, that otherwise lovely yacht lies on the seabed near the reef it hit.
Hull shape can be important, too. If the vessel is likely to meet anything more than a glass- calm sea, it
will need to be a "dry" boat -- water should not pour down the decks, and it should not roll so alarmingly
that passengers are left clinging to their bunks. Wooden vessels tend to bob on the surface, while steel hulls
plough through the waves. Wooden vessels are lighter and can be faster, while steel-hulled vessels are often
more ponderous but more stable in rough water. Ask
about the sea-keeping qualities of the vessel.
I was once in the Red Sea on board the maiden voyage
of the motor yacht Moon Dancer, a member of the Peter
Hughes Dancer operation. One passenger expressed
disappointment that the sea was so rough. The newly
arrived American captain, with lots of experience in the
Caribbean, told her he couldn't understand it. "The Red
Sea was usually flat calm," he said.
Surrounded by deserts on all sides, that body of water
is subject to gale-force winds most of the time. Close
to the western shore, it may be calm, but out at sea, it's famous for its short chop. It's only calm for two short periods in the year when the wind changes from
north-west to southeast. That's an example of when the experience of the skipper and crew can be vital.
Don't be afraid to ask how long the skipper has been in charge. This particular captain might have been
otherwise extremely competent, but he was obviously deficient in knowledge of local sea conditions, and
it wasn't long before he was substituted for an experienced Egyptian. Your life can be in the hands of the
skipper. You might remember that in Belize back in 2001, the MV Wave Dancer sank in the night during a
hurricane. Twenty passengers and crew members lost their lives when the captain failed to make the correct
judgement in disembarking the passengers before the storm hit.
Safe open ocean crossings demand the safety of two engines. A vessel without motive power is a vessel
at risk. If your itinerary remains close to shore -- and help should you need it -- a single-engine vessel will
probably be safe enough. A good example of this is any vessel working within the weather-protected atolls
of the Maldives, where the mother ship is usually closely and permanently accompanied by a large 'diving
dhoni.' Other examples might be vessels working within the calm lagoons of Palau or Truk. Consider the
intended route, ask how many engines a vessel has and make an informed decision.
Should it be intended to make a long ocean crossing, like the one to Cocos Island from Costa Rica, a
single engine is one too few. I have been amazed to see a local bangka boat, constructed mainly from bamboo
poles and fishing line and powered by a single improvised truck engine, hundreds of miles from shore
at Tubbataha Reef in the Philippines. Some popular vessels that were designed with a single engine, in
the style of those working safely within the close-knit islands of the Indonesian archipelago, have recently been fitted with an auxiliary engine to satisfy safety requirements. But I wonder how easily they are steered
when the propeller of this extra engine is set well to one side of the rudder.
You'll want to know about generators and water-makers, because while running out of either electricity
or water can be very inconvenient, the loss of generators can be disastrous (I know! It happened when I
was aboard the MV Kairos.) You need to know that the vessel has more than one generator. Much of the vessel's
essential equipment depends on their ability to deliver.
One night, I ventured up into the wheelhouse of the Turkish liveaboard Artemis and discovered to my
horror that it was unattended, with the wheel simply lashed in place with rope as we motored onwards.
Thankfully, most vessels now have good navigation equipment, but it still depends on the crew's ability to
use it.
As a Red Sea dive guide back in 1992, I always marvelled at the way the passengers slept soundly in
their cabins while we made night crossings. Apart from the captain and me, the crew were all "backpackers"
working their passage in exchange for some free diving. None of them was competent to drive the
boat, but they each had to take a turn in the wheelhouse. We had autopilot, radar, a compass and the newfangled
GPS, so it should have been simple, but it seemed to me that every night when I took over, I needed
to avert an otherwise imminent disaster. One night, all the passengers fell out of their bunk when our "engineer"
suddenly realized he was about to hit the shore and turned the vessel so abruptly he nearly sank it. It
should never have happened. So ask about the competency of the crew.
Communication equipment is vital. Does the vessel have a powerful marine VHF radio, and are all the
passengers briefed on a Mayday procedure before setting off? It's not good having the means to make an
emergency call if the only person who knows how to use it is incapacitated or fallen overboard. Are the life
rafts regularly serviced? I was recently on the fabulously well-appointed boat MV Orion, but realized after a
couple of days, there were no life rafts. (There are now!) People never like to think about these things. Let's
hope you never have to.
Finally, what medical facilities are there, and what happens if there's the need for an emergency evacuation?
All good passenger vessels, whether small liveaboard motor yachts or vast Italian cruise liners, should
give passengers a proper safety briefing before leaving port. Evidently, the passengers of the Costa Concordia were due to get one on the third day of their trip, and that was after disaster had happened.
Ask the questions and get the reply in writing before you book.
John Bantin is the former technical editor of DIVER magazine in the United Kingdom. For 20 years, he used and
reviewed virtually every piece of equipment available in the U.K. and the U.S., and made around 300 dives per year
for that purpose. He is also a professional underwater photographer, and most recently the author of Amazing Diving
Stories, available at www.undercurrent.org