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peristaltorMy neighbor wandered over just a few minutes ago to let me know that it's happened again: another tourist Duck has sank, perhaps killing two more. I fired up the 'puter, checked email, and a friend I haven't heard three words from since he was married nearly 3 years ago has already emailed me the link I embedded above.
Why have these folks sought me as the recipient of this information? Because, between 2000 and 2004, I worked as a captain at Ride the Ducks of Seattle. I am one of the few who has seen what happens in the regulatory world when one of these craft sinks. That happened here in Seattle in 2001, after all. No, I wasn't the captain in charge of driving the duck that night. That job went to a captain named Mike. No, to further quell your suspicions, I wasn't in any way responsible for that sinking. Much of the responsibility was laid on yet another guy named Mike. I was, though, privy by dint of my employment to take a small part into the following inquiry.
And let me tell you, if the policy outlined by the Coast Guard investigators in the wake of that sinking still stands, this latest accident might well be the end of all commercial passenger duck operations in the United States.
Here's the story. Ducks used for tourist operations here in the US are not the standard-construction General Motors DUKW built for WWII. Instead, surplus DUKW are retrofitted for passenger use by various outfits. The original outfitter can be found in the Wisconsin Dells, a company that, to the best of my knowledge, keeps and operates all of its retrofits. The Boston Ducks also retrofits and maintains its own fleet. There's a small outfit in Arkansas. The ducks in Seattle (and, I suspect, in Philadelphia) are from an outfit in Branson, MO called Ride The Ducks. These units are, in the opinion of most operators like myself, far superior to others in comfort and safety.
In 1999, a duck named the Miss Majestic sank in Arkansas. Immediately afterwards, all duck operations in the US were suspended by the Coast Guard pending a review of the equipment each operation was utilizing.
The ducks in Seattle were back in the water fairly quickly after an initial CG inspection. Some modifications were made later; for example, one of the chief causes of death in Arkansas was the fact that the windows and clear plastic side curtains could not be opened. People who had donned their life jackets faced what divers call an "overhead environment". They floated to the fixed windows, and were unable to overcome the buoyancy of their vests to escape. The only opening and exit was to the stern; the vessel submerged stern-first.
On the Seattle ducks, the front window simply folds down (what I liked to call my General Motors air conditioning). The windshield is hinged at the base and able to swing flat against the engine cowling. The local CG inspectors really liked that feature. Later, spring-loaded side curtains were installed. Pull a safety pin (similar to one found in a portable fire extinguisher), flip the red lever, and the curtain rod is ejected about five feet to the side of the duck. Trapped no more!
The next sinking happened, as I mentioned, here in Seattle in December, 2001. What else would explain the Xmas decorations dripping from the raised duck in the picture? No one was hurt in that sinking. In fact, I'd rather not get into how that sinking occurred on a public forum like this LJ; Google all you want, but I can assure you that I probably have more insight into the sinking than the internets can offer. I will say that, above everything else, in my opinion that duck was sank primarily because of avoidable distractions created by the company's corporate structure, and to a lesser degree to the actions of the second Mike, the only one that lost his job.
For the investigation, however, things got weird. Seattle is home to the 13th Coast Guard District and has a pretty full complement of inspectors and high-ranking officers; for this accident, though, they were joined by two investigators flown in from Coast Guard headquarters in the other Washington out east. All working captains and mechanics joined the owner and these investigators in the wee dark hours in what we called the Duck Nest, the building housing the duck storage and repair facilities, and listened to Captain Mike relate as best as he could what happened that night. Damn, was he nervous. I really felt sorry for the guy.
The investigators determined that, though some of the mistakes that caused the initial leak were his, Captain Mike did exactly what he should have done to get everyone safely to shore. One of the boys from DC also mentioned that new regulations were being drafted to cover amphibious passenger vehicles in the T regs (those Codes in the Code of Federal Regulations that govern requirements of small passenger vessels), which would eliminate some of the humorous but frustrating overlaps between land and sea operations.
The head investigator saved the best for last, and let us in on a bit of regulatory scuttlebutt. He told everyone in that chilled December garage that the entire industry was on probation, and that if another duck accident happened in the United States, even if no lives were lost, the Coast Guard would likely pull the inspection ticket of every commercially operating duck in the country and shut down the industry, perhaps for good.
So, when good neighbor B. wandered over to share the news, that statement came back to me in force. No, I doubt (from what little I've read) that the duck captain was at fault in Philadelphia. The tug captain probably bears quite a bit more of the blame. The fact that the duck was dead in the water, though, raises the specter of that double-secret probation mentioned over 9 1/2 years ago.
I'll be fair; though I thought driving amphibious vehicles was about the coolest thing someone could ever do for hire, any craft designed to do two radically different jobs will probably do neither of those jobs very well. The GM DUKW is no exception. No matter how many modern amenities you swap in a WWII surplus vehicle -- automatic transmission, more beam to improve buoyancy, a mechanical prop connection -- the thing is still a cludge, a beast cobbled by Detroit engineers out of existing farm truck parts and some sheet metal. It doesn't drive well as a truck and it doesn't maneuver well a boat. It does both safely enough for licensing, yes, but . . . that might not be true after Philadelphia. Old technology gets scrapped as newer users discover its limitations. These shortcomings were only tolerated decades ago, after all, because the country back then was enlisting whatever kit it could -- however wonky and quirky -- to win a war on two fronts.
We'll see what happens.
Why have these folks sought me as the recipient of this information? Because, between 2000 and 2004, I worked as a captain at Ride the Ducks of Seattle. I am one of the few who has seen what happens in the regulatory world when one of these craft sinks. That happened here in Seattle in 2001, after all. No, I wasn't the captain in charge of driving the duck that night. That job went to a captain named Mike. No, to further quell your suspicions, I wasn't in any way responsible for that sinking. Much of the responsibility was laid on yet another guy named Mike. I was, though, privy by dint of my employment to take a small part into the following inquiry.And let me tell you, if the policy outlined by the Coast Guard investigators in the wake of that sinking still stands, this latest accident might well be the end of all commercial passenger duck operations in the United States.
Here's the story. Ducks used for tourist operations here in the US are not the standard-construction General Motors DUKW built for WWII. Instead, surplus DUKW are retrofitted for passenger use by various outfits. The original outfitter can be found in the Wisconsin Dells, a company that, to the best of my knowledge, keeps and operates all of its retrofits. The Boston Ducks also retrofits and maintains its own fleet. There's a small outfit in Arkansas. The ducks in Seattle (and, I suspect, in Philadelphia) are from an outfit in Branson, MO called Ride The Ducks. These units are, in the opinion of most operators like myself, far superior to others in comfort and safety.
In 1999, a duck named the Miss Majestic sank in Arkansas. Immediately afterwards, all duck operations in the US were suspended by the Coast Guard pending a review of the equipment each operation was utilizing.
The ducks in Seattle were back in the water fairly quickly after an initial CG inspection. Some modifications were made later; for example, one of the chief causes of death in Arkansas was the fact that the windows and clear plastic side curtains could not be opened. People who had donned their life jackets faced what divers call an "overhead environment". They floated to the fixed windows, and were unable to overcome the buoyancy of their vests to escape. The only opening and exit was to the stern; the vessel submerged stern-first.
On the Seattle ducks, the front window simply folds down (what I liked to call my General Motors air conditioning). The windshield is hinged at the base and able to swing flat against the engine cowling. The local CG inspectors really liked that feature. Later, spring-loaded side curtains were installed. Pull a safety pin (similar to one found in a portable fire extinguisher), flip the red lever, and the curtain rod is ejected about five feet to the side of the duck. Trapped no more!
The next sinking happened, as I mentioned, here in Seattle in December, 2001. What else would explain the Xmas decorations dripping from the raised duck in the picture? No one was hurt in that sinking. In fact, I'd rather not get into how that sinking occurred on a public forum like this LJ; Google all you want, but I can assure you that I probably have more insight into the sinking than the internets can offer. I will say that, above everything else, in my opinion that duck was sank primarily because of avoidable distractions created by the company's corporate structure, and to a lesser degree to the actions of the second Mike, the only one that lost his job.
For the investigation, however, things got weird. Seattle is home to the 13th Coast Guard District and has a pretty full complement of inspectors and high-ranking officers; for this accident, though, they were joined by two investigators flown in from Coast Guard headquarters in the other Washington out east. All working captains and mechanics joined the owner and these investigators in the wee dark hours in what we called the Duck Nest, the building housing the duck storage and repair facilities, and listened to Captain Mike relate as best as he could what happened that night. Damn, was he nervous. I really felt sorry for the guy.
The investigators determined that, though some of the mistakes that caused the initial leak were his, Captain Mike did exactly what he should have done to get everyone safely to shore. One of the boys from DC also mentioned that new regulations were being drafted to cover amphibious passenger vehicles in the T regs (those Codes in the Code of Federal Regulations that govern requirements of small passenger vessels), which would eliminate some of the humorous but frustrating overlaps between land and sea operations.
The head investigator saved the best for last, and let us in on a bit of regulatory scuttlebutt. He told everyone in that chilled December garage that the entire industry was on probation, and that if another duck accident happened in the United States, even if no lives were lost, the Coast Guard would likely pull the inspection ticket of every commercially operating duck in the country and shut down the industry, perhaps for good.
So, when good neighbor B. wandered over to share the news, that statement came back to me in force. No, I doubt (from what little I've read) that the duck captain was at fault in Philadelphia. The tug captain probably bears quite a bit more of the blame. The fact that the duck was dead in the water, though, raises the specter of that double-secret probation mentioned over 9 1/2 years ago.
I'll be fair; though I thought driving amphibious vehicles was about the coolest thing someone could ever do for hire, any craft designed to do two radically different jobs will probably do neither of those jobs very well. The GM DUKW is no exception. No matter how many modern amenities you swap in a WWII surplus vehicle -- automatic transmission, more beam to improve buoyancy, a mechanical prop connection -- the thing is still a cludge, a beast cobbled by Detroit engineers out of existing farm truck parts and some sheet metal. It doesn't drive well as a truck and it doesn't maneuver well a boat. It does both safely enough for licensing, yes, but . . . that might not be true after Philadelphia. Old technology gets scrapped as newer users discover its limitations. These shortcomings were only tolerated decades ago, after all, because the country back then was enlisting whatever kit it could -- however wonky and quirky -- to win a war on two fronts.
We'll see what happens.