I Am Coming Home

Most of us, swimming against the tides of trouble the world knows nothing about, need only a bit of praise or encouragement - and we will make the goal.
- Robert Collier
Today was the final dive. I have spent the last nine days here in northern Florida engrossed in dive training. I took on quite a bit with this trip covering Cavern, Cave, Advanced Nitrox and Deco, and have passed all. I have had fun with my trip reports using humor to get through some of my less than stellar moments, and I did have fun, but I worked too.

Today we did our final dive, another guided dive. Again we were at Devils Ear and this time we were going to the Bone Room. Again I walked my deco bottle down the stairs and into the water before we made our way over the edge of the chimney and down to the cave entrance. The flow felt much stronger today. I guess the rain up north is making its way here through the aquifer. I pulled myself through and hid out of the flow while Jim tied in. I dropped my bottle behind the Grim Reaper sign and made my way up to the ceiling. I was leader again today.

You would think by now the tunnel would be familiar but I am still a tourist here. There are so many nooks and crannies and out croppings, I still haven’t seen everything. The walls change shape as you move along from room to room and tunnel to tunnel, moving up and down as the ceiling of rock rises and lowers above you. Each turn holds a new surprise. Sometimes it is tall and narrow and sometimes low and almond shaped. There are enormous rooms that you think will go on forever and slits in the rock you must pull yourself through. And then….. it is time to turn back.

Back at the end of the gold line I pick up my O2 bottle and am signaled to pull the reel. With the bottle and the current of water I still could use a little work on my buoyancy but I pull the reel without fouling it and we are on our way out to the chimney and up to the log.

We are joined on the log by a large river eel and he swims his way up and over the edge and into the river just ahead of me. I make my way back to the steps getting a few last pokes in and then I am out and I am done. I have passed all my courses and I’m on my way home. I am ready.

I researched my instructor, Jim Wyatt, and I am pleased with my choice and would recommend him without hesitation. He was thorough and well versed, not a hand holder and not a screamer. He readily conveyed information and he critiqued, not criticized.

That being said, I would like to thank everyone who offered me encouragement through all this. It was greatly appreciated. Really.

I wish everyone the Best of the Holiday Season, the Merriest Christmas and Cow Butts in your New Year.

The Deco Log

"Oxygen is addictive and deadly. Everyone who uses it will eventually die"
RW Hamilton, PhD 1991


Yesterday was a classroom day. Philosophy, physiology, rules, equations, charts …… total overload. After dinner, I sit and review and come up with the questions I should have asked in class. I work a little bit with some planning software and I read a little more. As a break, I try to put grommets in my dry suit pocket but they are apparently titanium lined or something as I have some nice deep holes in my block of wood, but not a one in the pocket.

I toss and turn in bed as I try to sort out the things I want to ask and imagine trying to drag my hiney through the Ear while dragging an additional O2 bottle. I have found my 1ml gloves and my still sore fingers hope they do the trick.

As I stare at the stars above…. I think ……. Where the hell did the roof go?!! …. And then I remember the glow in the dark plastic stars stuck to the ceiling. This is going to be a long night.

Morning comes and I sit with my cup of coffee and review the dive planning once more. I am about to purposely violate the NDL limits for the first time in my diving career.

We are back at Ginnie Springs as rain north of here has rendered most of the area springs undivable. The swift movement of the water here keeps the cave clear. I fumble with the O2 bottle, but some adjustment of the D-ring and moving my reels to my butt make midwater clipping off of the bottle go much more smoothly. I have moved my computer from my D-ring to my wrist and written out several contingency Deco schedules on my slate and I am trying out double 95’s. All new little tweaks for me.

I swim around a few minutes getting used to the tanks and poking a fish or two before we move on and now we are ready. This 40 cu ft tank seems to weight me like a rock and I am at the bottom of the chimney in no time. I will be second in line this dive and try to get my buoyancy with the bottle down as I wait for Jim to tie the reel in. It isn’t pretty but at least I am not dragging my way through the tunnel. I drop my deco bottle at the beginning of the gold line and we work our way up to the ceiling and pull ourselves into the cave. I am feeling disorganized. I want to check my tank pressure and in doing so I fall behind and fin to keep up instead of frog kick. My long hose is sticking at the back of my neck and I am in perpetual tug of war with it, my ears seem to be in need of clearing more often than usual and to do so I have to either let go of the wall or use the hand with my light, banging the light head off of my forehead more than once. I have to keep my light where the diver in front of me can see it and keep track of the light of the diver behind me. My suit is squeezed and tapping air in is not doing the trick. It seems to just move along my shoulders and out the exhaust valve. I am obviously out of trim and just when I think I will signal for the team to hold up, a corner is turned and I hold off until we are in a better area. These are just little annoyances, not life threatening or dive ending issues, nothing I cannot correct or handle. The right answer was to hold everyone up and get situated but I didn’t. Through the Lips and at the Keyhole I lose my trim while checking my gauges and kick up a bit of sand, not too bad but I shouldn’t have. We reach the 400 Hill and I signal that I want to turn the dive. I am not at my turn pressure but at the end of my comfort level and I would like to regroup and try again. We turn and head back.

I am sure I did not look like I was struggling to the rest of the team, just a bit off on my buoyancy and some improper finning. It always feels worse to you when it happens. The return trip went more smoothly with the current carrying us and at the Lips I am stopped and signaled…. “Where is the line?” My nemesis drill. Even when I find the line I always have something else going on. Black out mask on and I feel for my reel…. Which has been moved to behind me. I little fumbling to find the reel I want and I now have to find a good rock to tie off to. I remember I have to go up a bit to keep from getting bogged down between the rocks and I feel for the direction of the current as I then know that here, the gold line is to my right and along the wall. I set off doing sweeps for the errant line and as I am about to pull out line for my third sweep I feel the gold line, grabbing on and checking for the thickness, making sure I haven’t doubled back on myself again. I tie off my reel and am rewarded with my own mask back. Now I have to just reel in my line and stow it without fouling and I am done.

We are back at the start of the gold line and I pick up my deco bottle and clip off, trying to anticipate the rush of water as I squeeze through the Ear and out into the chimney. The weight of the bottle helps keep me in place and I pull myself onto the log. I have not earned any deco time this dive and sit for my 3 minute safety stop at least glad the gloves worked out. My hands feel good for a change.

After lunch we plan out Dive Two and drop back in the water. I am leading this time and if we reach the Hill 400 tunnel we will tour it. We drop down the chimney and through the Ear, drop our deco bottles at the Grim Reaper sign at the beginning of the gold line and make our way up to the ceiling. I pull along watching for lights behind me and we are soon at the Lips, past the Keyhole, this time leaving it clear, and on we move. The tunnels change shape as we move along, some high and narrow, some hour glass shaped and others like a candy kiss with low ledges. The rocks change shape and amass above or below me as the tunnels change. My light slowly sweeps across and up and down taking it all in as I pull myself along. At the Hill 400 jump we move to the line and continue on our way. It is strange following a white line now but I see the familiar markings for distance and direction and begin to look about. Pieces of rock jut out into the tunnel making pulling along easy in most spots and my light plays along the rock formations, lighting up the white of the limestone and the contrasting black of other areas as the movement of the water cuts its way through.

I have reached my turn pressure and signal the team to turn. As we move back through the tunnel, Jim stops to point out fossils in the hard rock walls that have been uncovered by the springs flow. Several pieces of what looks to be turtle shell and other shells and a small sand dollar perfectly intact. A little farther along he stops and moves me to the side showing me a huge sand dollar embedded in the rock, the size possibly larger than my hand. It looks like you could pick it up off the ledge, the detail is so perfectly preserved.

We move on back through the wending tunnels and passages, the rooms and finally the Lips. No more drills here, just enjoying the scenery.

At the beginning of the line I pick up my bottle and clip it off and wait for Jim to pick up the reel and we make our way back to the tie in and our exit at the slit of rock we call the Devils Ear. I make my way up to the Deco Log, and now I see why it is aptly named. I switch over my gas to the deco bottle and settle into a half nap, half watch the pretty bubbles as I wait for my computer to count down my stop. If I straddle the log and jam my head under the branch I don’t even have to hang on, I just remain perched in place biding my time. Sweet.

I am done and ready to make my way up and to the stairs out and as I make my way, I notice the river water is a bit hazy compared to past days. Nowhere near Jersey hazy, but enough to give me a tinge of home sick.

Dive #204. A success. Play that number…

Peacock One

The water is your friend. You don’t have to fight with water, just share the same spirit as the water, and it will help you move. ~ Aleksandr Popov
I am in the midst of cattle and dairy farm country, passing by throngs of cows at every curve, and today …. again ….. I saw cow butts …… life is good.

While it is still a bit nippy here, the skies have cleared and we are able to move on to another cave system. Today we are diving Peacock I. At Peacock State Park there are several sinks, which over the course of time, divers have been able to link together through their tunnels. Orange Grove Sink is one and Challenge another. And three others, Peacock I, II, and III. Some time ago, the cave entrance at Peacock II collapsed and the area is no longer divable. Peacock III is an advanced cave with tight restrictions and a silty bottom.

Peacock I is our destination today. Another guided dive, a level above my training, at 1/3 gas supply instead of 1/6. This cave is a no flow cave. The spring water does not rush out and through these tunnels like a raging river and as such it has its own set of difficulties. In a large portion of these caves, the lack of moving water has allowed a thick layer of fine silky silt to cover the cave floor, and the walls are a crumbly porous rock that breaks at the touch. There is a looong low restriction of hard limestone in the center that most divers pull themselves through along the floor. I …. Am special. Lucky me will be allowed to swim through this restriction without touching the floor or ceiling. I am guessing that this dive is a test for me, especially after my rocky if not inconsistent performances so far, to see if I can handle my buoyancy and not silt out my environment. With no flow, in a silt out, this cave is not forgiving and I need to prove this Jersey diver can do this.

You walk down a wooden boardwalk path to a set of steps and climb down to a narrow ladder leading into the water. Here, you put on your fins and drop below the steps to the cave entrance. There are two gold lines in this cave and I am to follow the one to the left and the renowned, Peanut Tunnel.

My S- Drill goes more smoothly than it has all week, a marked improvement. I collect my buoyancy as I cannot touch the floor for any reason and the walls are very fragile. I will lead this dive and a three man team of myself, Jim my instructor and Marc, the assistant instructor into the cave.

Staying as close to the ceiling as I dare in a large open tunnel with a rock and silt bottom we move along and onto the restriction which I need to navigate without touching anything and still following the line, not getting tangled in the line and keeping awareness of the rest of my team behind me. No guys, I am not nervous. Jeesh….. I am not just a poker ….. I am THE poker. I touch everything!!!! Don’t they know that!

This restriction goes on forever, I want to blast out of there with a few good fin kicks but know I cannot. And so I creep along, looking about every now and then, and not touching anything. It is killing me.

We finally come out in a tunnel that is much smaller than the ones we have previously been in but still roomy enough to move about. The rock walls are carved out in varying formations and indentations and the lights play across the blackness, reflecting off of the white rock walls. There are twists and turns and the gold line moves from one side of the tunnel to the other as it winds its way deeper into the earth.

Crawling across the silty bottom, I occasionally spot small troglobites, mostly crayfish. Troglobites are albino looking cave dwelling animals that have adapted to no light and have no pigmentation or eyesight and often no eyes due to living their lives in total darkness. I remember the silt and know there will be no poking here and move along. I am watching my gauges and keep thinking, good lord we are going a long way, when I get the signal from behind we are turning around.

As the team turns, I am now the last man in line and am now thinking I have to keep up and not loose the line cause there is no one behind me to get me back on target…..and if I silt this place up ….. I could be here a very long time……

We wind our way back along the tunnels and inch our way through the restriction without touching …… lord knows I wish I was not so special and could pull myself along, I am getting a bit tired here.

At a rock outcropping near the tunnel entrance I am handed the blackout mask and another lost line drill is in progress. I have brought a reel and a spool with me today. Spools are so much harder to foul. Although you can do other things to them ….. like drop them ….. please don’t let me ….. please.

I set my buoyancy a little heavy and search for a rock to tie on to. Having been spun in a circle I have no idea where the line is and with no flow I have nothing to acclimate myself to except rocks. My first tie off does not hold and I find another rock and begin to make my sweep. Nothing and I move a bit more, and a bit more and ….. and….. I find a line! As I am tying my spool off to it I feel it again. Something is not right. It is too thin …. It is… hmmm… I think it is my own line. I have gotten tangled and doubled back on myself. I untie to restart my search.

My mask is handed back to me and we are calling it a day. I am not far from the line, but I do appreciate Jim not allowing me to get frustrated here. I realized my mistake and there will be other dives to practice this more. And this dive…… this dive was great.

On the way out I am to pull the reel another dive team had left behind and asked us to retrieve. With no flow, I had no trouble with my buoyancy, and more importantly….. I did not foul the reel.

We exited into the clear sunlit pool of water after 78 minutes of dive time. We had gone about 1500 feet into the system when the dive was called. It was simply time to get back for us. All this time and distance and we never went deeper than 52 feet. And me, I did good. Real good. I did not touch a thing….. well not until we exited. There was one little fish, give a girl a break!

Passed Basic Cave!!

"We can see what's on the dark side of the moon or what's on Mars, but you can't see what's in the back of a cave unless you go there..." - Sheck Exley

How true is this? I don’t know. I saw the cave, not the back of it, but far enough. And I saw cow butts! Let me begin.

Cow Butts…… this morning on the way to the springs I saw nothing but cow butts. Today will be good.

I covered my fingers in band aids and set up my gear. It was a bit brisk this morning. 43F as I loaded up This morning was better. I knew it would be, and I felt better. I had coffee, plenty of coffee, and Hello Kitty band aids. Life was good.

We entered the water to complete our proficiency for Basic Cave. Again we were at Ginnie Springs and diving the Devils System. Yesterdays weather had stirred things up a bit elsewhere and we happily dove the site here again.

We climbed down the stairs and into the water and began our S-Drills surrounded by small curious fish from the river. I am still a little shakey when restowing my long hose, not quite maintaining my buoyancy, but much better than previous dives, we wont even begin to compare anything from yesterday. I felt so good….. I poked a fish.

Our first dive was in the Devils Eye. We planned our dive and dropped over the edge to the sandy bottom before the eye shaped slit in the rock that is the caves entrance. I led this dive and heading into such total darkness with just the narrow beam of light from my flashlight was a bit eerie. The tunnel has ups and downs and twists and turns and it is necessary to pull yourself along the rocks to make headway against the flow. By the time we reached the main cave and the gold line all but one of my band aids were gone. There are now a slew of Hello Kitty band aids plastered along the ceiling of the tunnel for future cavers to muse at and retrieve as they come across them. Sorry guys.

Once reaching the gold line we check our reel left in from the day before and head on up to the ceiling to get out of the flow and make our way on back. Teamwork is our objective on the way in. Awareness… body, buddy and light. We make it back to the Lips and turn the dive. Although we are concentrating on each other, we are able to relax more this dive and enjoy the cave. There are catfish swimming below us, their whiskers visible from afar in the crystal clear waters, and a never ending line of Mother Natures art in limestone all around.

Coming back to the end of the gold line I retrieve the reel and begin to reel up the line. I can feel all eyes on me waiting for the foul and it doesn’t happen! The flow pushing me from behind has its way with me and I am constantly adjusting myself as I reel in more and more of the line as I move up through the tunnel. Doug is just ahead of me freeing the line from its placements as we make our way along. We work as a team. Squeezing ourselves out of the Eye and onto the sandy bottom of the river hole we hover doing our safety stop before heading up and into the river where those curious little fish are again waiting. As I make my way back to the stairs I chase after and pull a tail or two. I feel good. It wasn’t picture perfect, but I feel good. The fine tuning in the flow will come with practice, but the rest was good .

Dive two was in the Ear. Down the narrow chimney, pulling along the rocks, we make our way down against the springs flow. Doug is leading this time and as I pull myself along the rocks to make my way through the long narrow slit that is the Ear, I have a few minutes of doubt that I can make it. The power of the water is tremendous and my fingers are uncovered and a bit raw. With a few good pulls I am through and hide out of the worst of the flow as Doug ties the reel in. Primary tie in, secondary tie in and then at the gold line and we are on our way. Once more up to the high ceiling, the rocks forming a limestone picture of cathedral shapes as we move along. Coming up to the large side tunnel, Doug once again heads down and I signal him. He catches himself and comes back to follow the line. That’s twice….I think he should carry my tanks for this one…..but alas I know it is only a dream…. and we move forward.

We continue on past the Lips and make our turnaround at the Keyhole. We are signaled for a lost buddy light and then an OOA drill. Doug donates to me and we take a bit of time getting aligned for the trip back but are on our way when both of our primary lights go out. My first thought is that the cover light signal and OOA signal meant a lights out exit while air sharing. I acclimate myself to the flow and make sweeps eventually finding the line. Doug in the meantime has not seen any of the signals and turns on his secondary light as we fin along. We have accomplished two separate drills in one without even trying and are given the signal to break off and continue on. I later asked the instructor if I should have offered HIM my regulator when he gave me the signal as I really have no way of knowing if he is requesting a surprise drill or really out of air …… hmmmmm …… made for some interesting discussion at lunch.

Doug now pulled the line out as we exited with the same issues of the flow beating up his buoyancy, but managing admirably none the less. After collecting the reel from the primary tie in we dumped all the air we could and shot through the Ear and did our best to slowly make our way up the chimney to the Deco Log and our safety stop. The log is kinda cool to sit on. You can lean back and watch your bubbles rush to the surface and into the sunlit river water. Trying to make bubble patterns and rings makes the time move along. FYI…. I cant do bubble rings…. I think that whole thing is just a myth…..

As we clear the rim of the chimney and head on in I again play tag with the curious little fish….. although they are catching on and keeping their distance a little bit better now.

We have pulled our act together and have passed Basic Cave. And this last Dive……it was actually two milestones for me ….. My official passing of Basic Cave AND my 200th dive.
If diving with a Full Cave Instructor, you may dive one level above your training if the instructor feels you are able. After lunch, we are rewarded with such a dive. Basic cave only allows us to dive 1/6 of our gas, thus limiting how far into the system we can get. We have already reached about as far as someone can go on 1/6’s by hitting the Park Bench and now we are going to see what is beyond that.

I have now covered all my achy little fingers with duct tape and before we ever reach the river more than half have fallen off, leaving a little silver breadcrumb trail behind me. I gotta come up with a better way.

Our plan is for 1/3’s and we are dropping down into the Ear. Doug leads again and we are on our way. We reach the tie in and make our way up to the ceiling and pull ourselves along. Past the Catacombs Tunnel that has been Dougs navigational nemesis and he is right on target up and over it and moving along the line. On to the Lips and drop some gas as we crawl our way through this low but wide restriction and tap in some air and we are past the Keyhole and moving back. We make it all the way back to the Hill 400 Line before our turn. The places we have reached and things we have seen were not goals nor intentional. We actually had no idea where we in the system were until after we surfaced and asked. We saw some amazing sites and like tourists looked all around. Our shorter dives showing us something new each time we made them, just as this longer one. There are some amazing things just past the little fishes playing in the grass on the sandy river bottom.

My confidence has been restored. I am not perfect but I can do this…..and I will get better. I needed that…..that extra day…….that extra confidence…… tomorrow ……. tomorrow I start Advanced Nitrox and Decompression …… in a cave ……. Peacock One I believe if the weather holds……. Wish me luck.

Cows and the Apocalypse

Whatever happened to that cow was an Udder Disaster!

If you see a herd of cows spread out then you know it is going to be a nice day. If the cows are clustering together you know something is up. Here’s something that man has never noticed before - but thanks to Google Earth - now knows: cows tend to face in the north-south direction of the Earth’s magnetic field and tend to point north. And finally, their back side. The little rhyme for this is: "A cow with their tail to the west makes weather the best; a cow with their tail to the east makes weather the least". Despite all this I have my own opinion on how cows face…… Mark knows it….. and today….. on the way to Ginnie Springs……..all the cows were facing the road. This is not good. It’s like an apocalypse…… it is not good.

I was late. How I missed the alarm doesn’t matter but I was just barely going to make it. We were diving the Devil System again, and not Peacock because of the threatening thunderstorms, and the rain, and the tornado warnings…… the apocalypse……

We gear up in the rain and I am distracted, without a doubt, can’t decide whether to take my tanks under the pavilion or just assemble them in the rain and so I put them together with no wing. And I gear up and slip into my harness and I have captured my crotch strap under my plate and again I reassemble. All of the duct tape have wrapped around my fingers has fallen off 3 or 4 times and I have abandoned all hope for using it. And so we hike down to the water and down the stairs and I step off into 12 feet of water with my fins in my hand and float around like a big old pool toy while I pull my fins on, instead of gracefully stepping into them on the last step. I then do an S-Drill with the instructor and just stick my long hose in his hand instead of offering it in a manner an out of air diver would appreciate. The entire time my mask has not stopped fogging. Not good. Not drowning on this dive becomes a goal for me, I have to concentrate.

Today we are going into the caves via Devils Eye. The Eye lies just off of the steps and you drop over the edge into a large hole and down to a short wide hole in the rock wall. From here you pull yourself down and over the limestone rocks through a winding passage until you reach the gold line of the cave. I was supposed to run the reel in but due to my auspicious start it was thought better that I just follow this dive. And follow I did.

With some minor bumping and my nerves a bit on edge we made our way back into the cave. Light awareness was the task for Doug and I needed to pull things together. We moved rather quickly and not sure if it was me or just the leader on a fast pace, I struggled to keep up. I feel a bit better when I catch Doug heading down a side passage and off the line and signal him to stop. I guess I am not all bad. Doug does a lost line drill this time and I rest out of the flow as I wait for him to finish. Back out and to the bottom of the hole ….. we do a 3 minute stop and head up.

Dive #2 will involve some skills for me, Lost Buddy to be exact. Back in we go and back into the cave. I relax just a little and notice small black fish swimming along the cave floor. This is the first time I have seen any fish inside the actual cave…..out of ALL 4 TIMES no less. I know poking them is not an option and I continue on my way hoping not to chew up my little fingers too much in the process. On the way back out I am signaled “Where is my buddy?” and begin my drill. Stop, think, cover my light, mark the line, search, tie in a safety reel and search the side passage. Decent job I am thinking as I try to untie my reel….and try……and try…. and it is now thoroughly fouled and I pull out my knife and before I cut it from the line the instructor steps in and does it for me. Probably a good thing because if I had cut the gold line…. Well my day was just going that way…. You know….

Out we go and as I hover at my 15 foot stop I see my computer going berserk….. the mix was not properly set I have sent it into a hissy fit of unfathomable magnitudes. And I hear water sloshing in my boots. Time for a lunch break.

My computer has locked me out, I lost the little ball from the end of my reel and I have 2 inches of water in my suit. Quitting has never looked so good.

I drive back to the trailer with my car heater going full blast, get dry clothes, and a spare little ball thingy, and my spare computer, and my spare mask, a box of band aids for my fingers and I drive back. I am not ready to just jump right in and the team goes on ahead and does a dive while I fix my gear and take some steadying breaths. I know if I don’t gear up and go down to the water they will finish the day without me and I will just give in, but I take my time and get it all together and march down the stairs and sit on the bottom step and put on my fins and contemplate those damned cows as I wait for the rest of the group to surface.

Back down to the Ear we go and pull ourselves along the rocks and through the tunnel and into the cave. We get back to the Lips and I am called on for a Lost Line Drill. Blackout mask on and I am turned around and let go. I find a rock and unclip my safety reel and begin to wrap line when…… the reel fouls. I fumble with it for what seems forever and with the blacked out mask can not find anything. I secure it and clip it off and take off my second reel. The flow is having its way with me and I straddle the rock to stay in one place and pull out some line and wrap it on up. Pull out about 5 feet of line and set out to do a sweep and find the line. Feeling for the direction of flow and acclimating myself to where the line should be I continue but I am not having luck and am afraid that the tie off has come undone. I continue and stop several more times to be sure I have the flow right, head up to find new rock and finally…… after what seemed an eternity ……… I grasp the line. My mask is given back and I am signaled to reel in my line and lead out. I reel in ….. oh maybe a foot ….. and proceed to foul this reel also. I have had it. I wrap the line around the reel and tie it up like a present and head out.

Coming up and out of the hole and into the river water I spy a small turtle swimming along the bottom. I haven’t poked anything all day and my AAD kicks in and I chase after my speedy little friend. My dive buddy, Doug, thinks I have lost my mind and my bearings and tries to drag me back. I acquiesce and head on for the steps and out. It has been a long day. 121 apocalyptic minutes under water.

I have completed all the skills for Basic Cave in spite of myself, but am not happy with my performance today. Not my reel untying for sure, and I am a bit unconfident on my lost line skills after that fiasco. My instructor claims to have never had a student foul 3 reels in one day like that. I am special. Our team awareness could use some work too and Doug and I will extend the course one more day to work on our weak points.

Beware the cows is all I can say…… they foretell the apocalypse. For me ….. tomorrow has to be better.

Basic Cave Day 1

In Xanadu did Kubla Khan

A stately pleasure-dome decree,

Where Alph, the sacred river, ran

Through caverns measureless to man

Down to a sunless sea.

Basic Cave, Day One. Tom has left and it is just Doug and I to do Basic Cave, differentiated from Intro to Cave by the use of doubles.

I am on time, if not a bit early this morning, and enjoying a cup of coffee as we meet once more in front of the Ballroom stairs. But this time I am wearing the pink wristband of a Basic Cave Diver.

We have now shortened the cord, temporarily, on my can light as my arm is too short, and shortened the cord on my bungee necklace so my safe second is not in line with my dry suit valve. I am short ad my shoulders are not wide enough to keep all the gear from bunching in front of me, very frustrating. Sunny and Scubafi, how do you guys do it? Anyway….

We use the cavern of Ginnies Ballroom for more line work, more practicing air shares and not drowning in the process, some blackout air share exits and generally spend the morning in practice for the CAVES! The last drill was to go in and pull the reel. We turn and enter the cavern and my light goes out….. turn on my second light, signal my buddy and turn the dive….. good job ….. good drill…… except…… the instructor didn’t turn off my light…… Jeesh …… real life primary failure……and it still taint lighting… jeesh!!! I am not the only one with equipment problems as Doug has ripped his neckseal and pulled his rear dump off of his wing so far….. I hear it happens…..all the time ….

Except for one other small incident (OK I will spill….. you should not poke fish while waiting for Jim [the instructor No less…jeesh] to make the primary tie in, I spun upside down and my boots filled with air and I floated to the surface tucked in a ball trying to right myself BUT I gave the OK on the tie in the entire time)…..except for that incident we did exceptionally well and were deemed ready for a real cave dive. Devils Ear to be exact.

Our first dive there was to be a fun tour of the cave before doing some work. We parked about a mile away this time. Maybe not a mile but we had to pass by a perfectly good cave, Little Devil, to get there. And those stairs again….what is with all the stairs….. but once again we were in the unbelievably clear water.

My midget sized tanks are the ones everyone else sets their gas plan by as they are the smallest, and Jim feels we will make it to the Lips on this dive. In the river you can see some branches tangled and sticking out from the water…..and in front of them is a boil of water from a spring. Swimming out to this spot you dump all the air from your wing and dry suit and drop over the edge into a hole with the flow of water coming at you from the bottom. Pulling yourself along the rock wall you make your way down to the cave entrance and sneak behind a rock and out of the flow as the reel is tied in. While the secondary tie in is made you get your buoyancy set. I have been warned…..there is no touching the bottom here or the dive is ruined for everyone….not just us …. but everyone. I set myself as the tie in to the gold line is made and look around.

This cave is enormous. The ceilings rocket skyward and rock walls form a myriad of designs as they make their way into a blackness you don’t ever see on the surface. There is no ambient light from the surface and the cave exit is not illuminated in a bright blue glow as the Ballroom is. Your light plays off of the surfaces and you shine your light around taking in all the shapes and textures around you. The flow is strong and you pull yourself along the walls from one handhold to another to make forward progress.

We begin the cave near the ceiling, in the least of the flow and monitoring the gold line below. Smaller tunnels shoot off into the darkness and before you know it we are at the Lips. The Lips is a restriction resting about mid height in the cave. You dump your air and pull yourself along the floor and through this short wide hole in the cave, appearing into a new tunnel. We are good on air, Doug and I, and we swim past the Keyhole and are at the Park Bench when Doug calls the dive. We turn and make our way with the flow at our backs pushing us along. We have gone over 300 feet into this tunnel and have not finned once and will not before exiting. The flow carries us to the exit and at the tie ins, we scramble to drop all the air from our wings once more before being shot out the exit of the cave with the flow of water.

Again handholding on the walls of this chimney shaped hole in the river, we make our way up, this time trying to keep from being shot to the surface on a stream from below. At about 17 ft in this narrow hole sits a log, permanently lodged horizontally into the walls, the infamous ‘Deco Log”. Here we grab on and straddle to keep ourselves steady while doing our safety stop. And from there we make our way up and over the lip and back into the clear shallow waters of the river floating on the surface for ten or twenty minutes just talking and going over the plan for the next dive. The newbies are tying in and leading this dive and something is happening on the way out. Don’t get lost.

We make our way down again and Doug ties in while I crowd him, a common inexperienced caver mistake….paying attention Brandon? We move along in the cave once more admiring the scenery and then I have reached my turn pressure and we reverse our trail. I have adjusted my buoyancy admirably and have not touched a floor or ceiling and am riding the flow back in what I consider to be an ideal distance above the line when Jim grabs my fin tip. OK I realign my fins, I must be coming close to stuff, then he grabs my leg and points up……Ohhhh…. I should be higher and up I move without contacting wall or ceiling. Good job Cheryl! At this point Jim grabs my inflator and launches me up, plastering me against the ceiling and motions me to cover my light. I am now wedged in an indentation in the ceiling and in complete darkness except for the light bulb going off in my head…..Lost Buddy Drill….I am the lost buddy, Doh!

It is really really dark with your light covered…..really dark….and time stands still…… I wonder if I am running out of air and sneak a peek….. no….. plenty of air…… I wonder if my buddy notices I am gone yet cause I haven’t seen his light for a while…… hmmmm…..or Jims….. then I see the halo of light as my buddy comes back looking for me and ties off to check the side tunnel……hey I’m up here!!! .....remember me from yesterday….. the spider on the ceiling chick…… look up!!!!!.......Ahh, finally……

With the drill over, we make our way back to the tie in, collecting the reel in the wrong buddy team order……Brandon……hint hint….. and make our way back to the log and then on up and over the rim and into the river. Here the fish are playing in among the river grasses and Oh yeah, you know I did, like poking fish in a barrel. And finally the stairs….. and then the Bataan March back to our trucks.

105 minutes under the water and we done good. They couldn’t believe we made it all the way to the Park Bench our first dive in Devils Ear, we are good on gas….. even me with those itty bitty HP tanks they can’t get good cave fills into….. and we didn’t bounce and bang our way along, or silt anything, or get shot out through the eye like a pea from a shooter….. we sat on “THE Log”…. woo hoo! Now Peacock tomorrow……..

I just have to stop and get duct tape to cover my fingers which are getting a raw and cut up look to them….. that pull and glide stuff is deadly to the digits……

So You Want To Be A Cave Diver

So you want to be a cave diver? No? Me either. So what am I doing here? Long story.

I arrived in High Springs Florida on a chilly Sunday evening and proceeded to get lost. Nothing new for me, wreck reels are my friend. I am looking for my home away from home for the next week. Casa de trailer in the middle of nowhere. Smack in the middle of a couple of acres of nowhere. This will be an adventure.

I am suffering, but that is how it is in Florida. I knew that.

Day One is spent in the classroom. Me, Doug from Colorado and Tom from Oregon. Oregon is the only other state, besides New Jersey, that doesn’t pump gas. Tom and I enlightened the others.

Then we were enlightened with the rules of cavern and cave diving, formulas for SAC rate, tank volume, PSI, disproportionate tank sizes, MOD and other stuff. Calculators were pumping out answers left and right. Line arrows, cookies, navigation, cave and cavern sizes styles, parts and pieces. Let’s just say, the cookies aren’t chocolate chip.

Then out to run line drills among the trees. Tie in, following the line, reading the markers along the line and gripping the line tightly in the case of lost visibility are among these items.
And finally …….equipment set up. I truly believe that we reinvented the wheel with that one. Apparently wreck diving and cave diving are somewhat different. No compass, gear strap, fin holder, goody bag, jon line, mondo knife, shark puppet, strobe or weight pockets.

And apparently I have a strange drysuit also. Since I have no D ring inside my bellows pocket, I can’t secure anything there so it all must go on my harness. Five line arrows, four cookies, 3 flashlights, two regulators, one Z knife and a partridge in a pear tree.

This took a full day. But now…….Look out caverns here I come.

9 AM at Ginnie Springs is not early……unless you are directionally challenged…..arriving but 7 minutes late I am immediately befriended and assisted by Kathy of the Ginnie Springs staff. She is from Brooklyn and she knows her stuff. I love her…….

Gearing up and walking over to the stairs, I am on my way. The stairs…..hmmmmmm……I think there were about a dozen going down and I am positive there were 100 or more coming back up but that is another story.
Stepping into the clear warm water I put on my fins and stepped off of the rocks into the pool at the mouth of the cavern. 72 F and 100 feet of visibility. I can do this……..kinda.

You know all that hovering I did while Frnak had all the fun? Well apparently cavern water is different or something because I couldn’t hover worth crap. I bounced along like a ping pong ball and swore my rear dump valve was glued shut. I followed lines, shared air, did S drills and blackout line drills while bouncing off of and touching every rock, leaf, fish, piece of sand and diver in the water. I can donate my long hose…..while wearing a blackout mask…..while holding the line……and swimming completely upside down. Unfortunately that is not quite how the drill goes.

It does not get any better when I enter the cavern. I am like a bottom crawler and spider on the ceiling alternately, all the way to the grate at the back of the cavern. I am bumped to get off the bottom more times than I can count and have my hand permanently wrapped around my rear dump valve. Before today, I had never used my rear dump valve. Today I am “one with it”. There are 5 Rules of Cave Diving and I violated every one of them….with a vengeance. Very frustrating and time for a break. I only have to climb about 100 steps to end this[picture of stairs]…..and I do.

I dive double HP100’s and apparently my wing is too big for my tanks…..not lift wise but widthwise. Like batwings or a really cool cape, it flares out beyond my tanks and lovingly wraps itself around it in all directions, making use of my rear dump valve and fine tuning my buoyancy harder to manage than Rubik’s Cube. This is not so noticeable when ocean diving, but an absolute affront to the senses here.

After much speculation and adjustments I end up borrowing a Rec Wing and head back down to the water. If things don’t get better here, I am sure my instructor will be a candidate for detox, and I am sure that twitch will go away when I do………

Back down the stairs and into the water. While waiting for everyone to get organized I try out this new piece of equipment. Deflate and sink…check…..tap a little air and don’t imitate a pogo stick ….. check ….. pull the rear dump and empty wing …… check ….. hmmmmm …. this could work.

The right equipment makes all the difference in the world. Cost of a borrowed wing…. Eternal gratefulness….. not bouncing off of the floor and ceiling in the Ballroom at Ginnie….. priceless. I wasn’t perfect, but the difference was phenominal. Now my only problems were running a reel, air share, no viz exit, no viz exit while air sharing. More than enough. Other than a small issue of tangling can light cords and hoses while donating (not mine), and almost having to be rescued while trying to find my bungeed backup reg after donating (mine) we did quite well. Only took 184 minutes of dive time but we did good, good enough to earn a fun dive in the cavern AND our Cavern Certification.

Dropping down into the clear water, beneath a rock ledge in about 15 feet of water is a short wide opening , and here you enter. Not far inside the rocks drop off and you head over and down to about 45 feet, and the floor of the Ballroom at Ginnie Springs. What is in a cavern you ask? Well, dark for one. As you play your light around you, the white walls of the cavern come to life reflecting the light and formations of rocks rise up from the floor and smaller cutouts etch themselves into the walls. The bottom is coarse sand and at the far back is a grate. The flow here is quite strong and moving against it is difficult. The grate blocks access to a cave that is dangerous in nature with high flow, poor visibility and a silty bottom. Turning back to exit you spot small fish swimming about (oh yeah…..they be poked) and as you rise back up the rock wall you see the cavern entrance illuminated with the sunlight streaming through the water of the river just outside. Hmmmm. Maybe I do want to do this.

Basic cave starts tomorrow. 9AM. Have to be on time. I will run a reel.

Diving Off Long Branch

What else can you expect from a town that's shut off from the world by the ocean on one side and New Jersey on the other? ~ O. Henry 1862-1910, American Writer

There is a lot to be said for the diving off of Long Branch and that is our destination today. I enjoy these trips. Capt. Howard, Jack F., Francis O’G., Harley, John and me for today. Before leaving the dock we stop over at the Gypsy Blood to say hi and then we are off, headed north for our first stop of the day.

On the trip out we debate the need for hot showers on a dive boat, and whether they really have to be inside….on Howard’s next boat….among the many other things we seem to find the need to discuss as divers often do, and soon we arrive.

Off of Long Branch lies a wooden schooner. All wooden planking and ribs jutting up from the sand. At one end, the remnants of a small anchor jut from the sand. I pull up a barnacle covered cleat, still holding onto a small chunk of its rail, and see the charred remnants of the wood. A fire must surely have been the final demise. Where am I you ask? I ask the same thing all the time when I go out with these guys and it always confounds me.

The remnants of a wooden barge, possibly a schooner barge. Jack and I debated whether some of the long wooden remnants traversing one end of the wreck might have been masts. He doesn’t think so, but it’s possible, and I bow to his knowledge of these things. But the name…hmmmm……was this actually the “Belle Holder”? Noooo. The real name cannot readily be recalled but this is the wreck where someone found the bell holder, but alas, not the bell…. and hence its name. We are at the Bell Holder Wreck.

The ocean was flat, barely a ripple, but looks deceive. A good little current was running past and a safety line was put out to keep us on target as we rolled in. Me? With even less grace than usual, I plummet off the gunwale into the sea. Grab the line, a quick OK and I am descending, down, down, down in the dark green water, thick with egg casings and particulate. And suddenly….at 7 feet….I reach the weight and end of the line. Doh! I am on the wrong line. Back up and over and once more I am on my way down, this time to 60 fsw. At about 30 feet, by Harley’s measurements, there was a thermo cline and the water warmed a bit, to about 50F, but the visibility opened up a lot, to about 20 ft.

There is a lot of relief to the site and I swim it end to end just looking about. At one end lies the remnant of anchor and at the other wooden timbers and ribs, with one long one askew and heading off into the sand.There are fish to poke here, as the black fish abounded, but only one would have been of interest to my spear toting buddies. The rest were small. What was not small and definitely plentiful? Eels. Large eels. And lots of them. As you swam along and looked between the wooden timbers and planking, you could spy their cute little faces, and bodies, everywhere. Did you know that eels don’t blink? Makes you want to poke one. Yup.

Coming back to the anchor line I find my souvenir shell for this trip and begin to poke about the wreckage, fanning the sand and finding more and more planking as I move away from the walls. In among the piles of wood I find a cleat, encrusted from its time on the bottom, and can readily see the charred wood it still clings to, telling a part of the story of the ship, but not the bell.

Some wayward butterfly fish were spotted here swimming in a circle trying to keep warm, but no fish were speared, although 2 lobster did join us topside.

Once back onboard we are on our way to our next site. The Offshore Knoll, or the Other Knoll, or the Other Offshore Knoll. There are lots of them……and of course……they are not knolls, they are rock piles. You wonder why I get confused. There are dozens of fishing boats dotting the water, and our intended dive sites, but there are plenty of other rocks if we just take a minute and look, and so we do. Site #2 I have dubbed the First Knoll-L. Keep saying it, you’ll appreciate it. Let’s just say Francis is a bad influence on me.

The site is small, but there must be fish around. Why else would all these other boats be here? We are still debating this question.

We head back south and on to site #3, without a name, it will hereafter be referred to as the “Rockettes”, rocks slightly smaller than the Knolls. Jack has numbers, hundreds of numbers in a little book and he carefully picks out sites for us to visit, tossing out suggestion after suggestion. There is a chill in the air and we are all in the cabin with the heater warming up as Jack looks up possible sites and their numbers. He is on fire today…. Smoking…. literally. I smell burning rubber and smoke is coming from Jacks suit, he is standing too close to the heater……. We reposition the heater and continue on.

The Rockettes are a pile or ridge of rocks in 45-50 fsw and offer no larger fish to shoot than the last sites, but they are interesting. The bottom is silty and the rocks are covered in white coral and small taug swim all about them. Starfish are tucked in among the cracks and crevices and offer contrast to the brightness of the coral and black of the rocks. This site must teem with life in the warmer water months and swimming among the coral and sponges and tropicals that pass through, along with our regular locals, must make this a great sightseeing dive in late summer. And I imagine a decent hunting spot too.

Alas, I did not get to see all of the area as my suit again leaked buckets suddenly this dive. Francis videoed some for me and it came out great. I thank him. I must have had something not tucked right at my neck seal as I was wring ‘em out wet from chin to toes and did not last long in the cool water. Now I know why you need a hot shower on a dive boat. I changed to my dry clothes and we headed for our 4th site. And for the life of me I can’t remember what it was.

An unidentified wreck close to shore which the Historical Divers have been monitoring, trying to find the pieces of puzzle that would allow them to identify this ship. It is definitely wood and it is definitely old and it definitely did not give up any clues this trip although it could have with crowbar and hammer. But that is how these things go.

We headed on into the marina in late afternoon and loaded up for home.

Back at the Bridge

What do you get when you graduate from scuba diving school?
A deep-loma.
Funny…..funny how some days things all go your way and some days they don’t….
Funny….

It was cold today, colder than it has been in a while. Guess I just wasn’t ready for it. My warm fall diving is gone for another year.

The chance for an afternoon dive came up and I took it. The weekend blowouts are getting old and I am looking to get in some practice before my trip. The Railroad Bridge it is our entry of choice.

John has never had the pleasure of being washed through the railroad bridge on the incoming tide, coming up in the marina and missing the opportunity to fin north for the rocks only to be pinned against the boat slip pilings and clinging tightly until the tide turns or until some boat owner pulls you up on the dock to safety and a walk back around to the park. Funny thing is….John doesn’t want that pleasure either. And yet he still lets me lead……

The tide is still coming in but it is slacking quickly as we gear up for the water. I am trying out my new can light, the one I had to take to a machine shop this morning to get it opened to charge the battery. Who knew I was so strong I could screw the end on so tight it would take an act of Congress and a bench vise to get it off? I can assure you we will try not to do that again.

I have new spring straps on my fins and as usual the mediums were too big and the smalls are a bit snug. Oh well.

And I am diving my doubles for some last minute practice with buoyancy before hitting cave country. This leaves me debating on the necessary weight for this dive. Always err on the side of heavy…..

As we enter the water it is cold, 50 F kind of cold, but it is clear, with 10-15 ft on the visibility scale.

We drop down and the first thing I notice is that the cord on my light is a wee bit long for my arm. I am not all that surprised as most dive gear is designed with someone a bit taller in mind. The next thing I notice is that the switch is a bit** to reach with the can clipped to the back plate. This is immediately followed by the memory of why I really don’t like my 5ml gloves and the way they interfere with my fine motor skills. Turning the light on is a bit of a challenge. I guess a bit of imaginative routing is in order.

We swim about a bit in the channel as I play with my new toy, shining it about as we look in and around. There are slim pickings today with star fish and small crabs being the most abundant. There are many really small hermit crabs skittering around though and a lone tiny flatfish to poke and send on his way. At this point I realize I really have not been paying much attention to where we are and I surface for some bearings. We are just shy of the white marker by the bridge and my plan is to hit there and pick up a hand full of mussels and then shoot through the bridge and peek in among the rocks for friends to poke and feed the mussels to.

I must not have conveyed that clearly because as we cleared the bridge I could clearly hear John yelling at me through his regulator. Something tells me he was not ready for that ride…..actually John tells me that….oh well.

We are peeking and poking about but alas no fish are around to feed and I abandon my mussels as we move along. In the shallower water along the rock wall I can feel that I have not gauged my weight well and am a bit light. This will prove to be a bit of a pain as we make our way back under the bridge pulling along against the flow.

We swim along the north shore of the inlet and the mussels thin out as we head farther east. We still only see the tiniest of hermit crabs and a few teeny moon snails and make out the slightest of movements beneath the sand as we disturb some crabs that are freshly dug in for the winter. As we swim along we see the largest hermit crab of the day, about the size of quarter, and she climbs up on my glove, holding on and not moving. I take her with me for a while showing her the sights as we move along, waiting for her to choose where she wishes to get off.

As we turn and head south for the bulkhead we pass a crab about the size of my fist having an afternoon snack of eel. I give a tug on his quarry but he holds fast and I swear if looks could kill…..well ……it would not be good for me.

Swimming across the channel I can feel I am too light and the water is getting a bit chilly, my arm is wet, I am sure the dump valve is leaking and will bring it into the shop this weekend. I go up and make the last few feet back a surface swim as I head on over to the ramp and my exit to a warm dry car.

It’s funny how some days everything goes right…..and some days it just doesn’t. Not “Why is the sand wet?......Cause the sea weed….” kind of funny…..think about it ….you will eventually get it…..anyway, not that kind of funny..but funny none the less.

Railroad Bridge in November

"Going to the Ocean and not diving, is like going to the Circus and not looking inside the big top..." Anonymous
John had never dove the inlets…..I promised to take him….he is a brave soul…..who was going to take me?......

Not everyone remembered about Daylight Savings…me …..I was all over it, snuggled into the covers for that extra hour of sleep before heading up to Shark River to dive.

I hadn’t left the house yet when my phone rang, I knew I was on time today, what was up now? John was already at the inlet and doom and gloom was the word of the day. There were 5-6 footers breaking in the surf, waves were breaking over the jetty, and white caps were in the inlet and bay. He had put his hat in the car for safety with the howling winds and he just wasn’t sure he wanted to make this his first inlet dive. Chicken…… just kidding.

You cant get to the water and just not dive…..it just isn’t right.

I was up and I was packed….I was diving. I told him to hold on as the trees in my yard were not even moving….I was going to check the Railroad Bridge. As I neared the water, the breeze picked up a little but being so far back in the inlet the bridge was protected and the water practically flat. I made the call for John and Anthony to meet me there and went to grab a coffee as I waited.

As I watched the water and drank my coffee people began to arrive, and then the Pt Pleasant Rescue Team arrived and a few dozen pumpkins with them. I had forgotten all about the pumpkin carving! It looked like they had a good group together for the fun and I watched them ready as I waited for my guys to arrive.

John arrived in full force, carrying on and complaining and generally teasing the heck out of me as I explained about tossing pieces of shell and waiting to see the current slow down instead of trusting the tide charts.

The center of the channel was still running a bit fast as the pumpkin carvers took to the water and you could see the flashes of pumpkin and full out half torsos of flailing kicking legs breaching the water as the participants struggled with their tasks. We watched a bit before suiting up and making our way into the water for our own dive.

We swam all around, hitting the far north shore looking for mussels and going east to the pilings checking for fillet and release projects. We grazed the rocks near the bridge but held off our timing underneath hoping to be there for the train. Not much was about, but then there was quite a bit of thrashing about going on with the carvers spread out in the area so I should not have been surprised. We did see a lot of crabs burying themselves in the sand and just as many large and small huddled together doing whatever it is they do like that. Starfish were still in attendance and stone crabs have not all gone south for the winter yet. Schools of shiners swam past us and tiny flat fish tried their best to blend into the bottom.

We surfaced near the bridge and within seconds the train whistles sounded. We dropped back down and headed on under the bridge. There we were met with the usual bergalls and other inhabitants who were still hiding from all the commotion in the channel. Small fish swam all about us and an eel about 18 inches slithered below us. Yes I had to poke him, no he was not happy about it. But the cement bridge is just not the same. I could hear some commotion but nothing loud and the vibrations just didn’t reach the water. I guess you have to hug a stanchion to get that. We played here for a few more minutes and headed on back in.

The air is getting that winter chill in it and Spikes looked very inviting…….lobster bisque all around was in order and we warmed ourselves over soup and good conversation.

You cant get to the water and just not dive…..it just isn’t right. And a day in the water….it just isn’t wrong.

The Ida K and the Delaware

"The secret of genius is to carry the spirit of the child into old age, which means never losing your enthusiasm." ~ Aldous Leonard Huxley

Like anything else I do lately….Saturday was a last minute adventure. I was not going to go out. I was staying home and getting some of the things on my must do list done….. gotta do them….right? Well a late night call from Jim F. (I swear he offered me candy and a late morning departure) and I gotta do them next week cause I am diving this week.

I hand out candy to all the little kiddies and pile my gear in the front hall for morning, setting my alarm clock for 6:00am, giving me plenty of time to load up, stop for coffee and doughnuts for everyone and make the boat with time to spare to load on for 7:30. What a good plan…..except about 6:30 my phone rings and it is Jim, “Are you coming?” ….turns out some miscommunication regarding loading time….my bad….. (but, as it turns out the later start was so enticing it will happen NEXT week.)

Luckily I live close and make it well before the planned departure…..Thank you Steve for thinking of me!

As I arrive and load on, with no coffee by the way, there is even more time to spare as some work is being done upon the electronics. Shortly, the Captain, with a huge grin on his face and a Woot! Woot!, is throwing the radar unit off the bridge and into the bay. This will be an interesting day. My boat mates are Steve R., Al S., Mr. October aka Al G., Jim F. and our mate Renee. And let us not forget Capt Tony in high spirits this fine morning.

The air is a bit brisk and as we head out there is a bit of ……chop ……yes…. chop to the water. As we head farther out it becomes “chop with an attitude”.

Our destination is the Ida K and I am excited as this is a site I have not been to. The Ida K was originally a 118 foot WWII sub chaser, brought to Pt Pleasant in 1977 to serve as a trawler and scallop boat as she neared the end of her life. She was deliberately sunk by her owners in 1978 or 79 in 90 fsw and makes for an interesting dive as it is a debris field of pieces of metal sheathed hull, propeller shaft, rudder, large box shaped tanks and other interesting shapes along with some added goodies of porcelain and trash can nature.

Al and I buddy up again and head on over into the water. There is the chop to deal with along with a surface current and a bit of wind……all in different directions. Grannylines, tag lines and tows to the ladder were the order for the day here. We make our way to the anchor line and drop on down. Below the surface is our playground and lucky children we are. As Al ties his reel in, 30 foot of visibility and 57 degree water temps, added to being tied directly to a large piece of the wreckage with little fish and other play friends, sends me into a fish poking AAD frenzy similar to turning a 3 year old loose in FAO Schwartz at Christmas. He soon has me focused on the tasks at hand and off we go in search of lobster for Al and more poking for me.

We swim past the large square tanks which used to hold fuel for the vessel and I corralled a few small swimmy guys in the corner of the tank only to have them escape. There are starfish and clams littering the bottom as we move along and soon we are heading off into the sand to some of the “added features”. Arriving at a 30 gallon trash can with wheels, (who needs a rolling trash can at sea, that’s just crazy) a clawed inhabitant is spotted hiding waaay in the back. I go round to see if a lift and dump is possible….it is not and Al is shaking his head as he just squeezes himself in and comes out with a new friend for his goody bag.Farther along some porcelain holds Als attention, but a tire not far off looks promising to me and I move over to have a look. There are no fish to be found, and I know that because I had to move a 1 ½ lb lobster out of the way to look. Taking pity on me, or is it the loster I am using to poke around with, Al opens his bag and offers transport.

We look around a bit more and I spy one more set of antennae and stick my hand in only to come out in the end with a hole in my glove. I give the hand off sign to Al and he goes in for the score, finally coming up with a marginally sized little guy who he lets go. Me? I have a bone to pick with this guy….dive gloves don’t come cheap! And smack fest begins with he and I battling it out to the death. Al grabs Mr. Shortie and tosses him towards his hole, now pointing to his gauges……it is time to go and we turn and head for the line.

As Al goes up, I signal that I will stay a little longer poking around the tie in for a bit longer with the last of the other divers. Looking under and about I follow the line of debris grabbing at a tail or two and finding a nice addition for my shell bucket and safely tucking it away.

Soon it is time to go up and as I hang, I remember the less than perfect surface and hope I can manage the ladder in my doubles…what was I thinking? Singles…should have brought singles…. Oh well.

The ladder was a task, at least for me, and it took a few minutes to maneuver but I made it and we were soon all on board and ready to move inshore a bit for dive # 2. Seems it was a tad rambunctious on the surface while we were gone. Water came splashing over the gunwales and things in the cabin got thrown about including my glasses which hid in fear for their lives thus getting trampled anyway coming out of things in 2 pieces. Better them than me this time.

The vote was taken and we were on our way to the Delaware, another new wreck for me, this trip was a home run of newbies for me.

On her last complete voyage, the Delaware came upon the foundering steamer Benefactor and towed her to safety at Red Hook, NJ before continuing on to her home berth. How ironic.

The Delaware was a 250 ft Steamer carrying passengers and crew totaling 66. In July of 1898, about 10pm, a fire was discovered below deck the crew attempted to put it out with little luck as the fire raged ahead of them and the passengers were awakened and put on deck for the life boats as signal flares were launched. The abandon ship was done in text book fashion with all women and children in the first life boat and a female stewardess as officer in charge. While two Cuban male passengers tried to take flight in the first boat they were promptly rebuffed by the captain and made to wait til the last life boat for their efforts. 4 of the 5 lifeboats were lowered into the water safely and the last remained on deck, unreachable for the flames. The captain and remaining crew lashed hatch covers together in makeshift rafts and lowered them to the water. Two of the lifeboats had hung behind for them and towed them safely away from the burning ship.

In heavy surf, the Coastguard station launched a lifeboat which rowed out the 5 miles to the vessel in remarkably swift fashion, just an hours time, taking on passengers from the smaller boats. Two additional tugs came to the rescue picking up the remaining passengers and crew.
The next morning the Delaware was just about burned to the water line but still afloat and salvage was attempted with the effort being abandoned within site of the shore off Bay Head in just 75 feet of water.

It is said that along with her cargo of nails, soda bottles, olive jars and dry goods, including pipes and buttons, there was a load of ammunition which exploded like fireworks according to the passengers and crew as they awaited rescue. The steamship line rebukes this and claims they were mistaken and distraught and there was no ammunition although bullets are among the treasures to be found if you dig around. They also claim there is a strongbox, containing $250,000.00, still among the buried artifacts and not yet found. Hmmmm

The seas calmed to almost flat here and only the anchor line was needed. We rolled over and dropped down. What we picked up in calming seas we lost in visibility as the water turned a hazy gray green and heavy particulate filled the 15-20 foot of viz surrounding us. We were tied in to a tall boiler and set out to explore with more sea bass on this wreck but no lobster to be found.

We swam about looking in and under things but unfortunately took no time to dig. I collected a variety of weights, square, pyramid and teardrop shaped and put them in my pocket to add to the captain’s collection. The water was oddly cooler here at just 55 F and soon our time to surface came around and up we went, one by one, divers surfacing tired and wet form the day. Yes my left sleeve was a little damp still…so the valve shall be looked at much more closely this time. I had been told once it was not a matter of IF my drysuit would leak…just a matter of WHEN….oh well.

We offloaded to the dock some very nice fresh fish and several lobster. While mine was of a healthy size, I believe Jim’s fat blob of a lobster done squished him in the cooler and an immediate lunch of steamed lobster was necessary. Gracious…..how awful…..Can you imagine!

Last Back Bay Dive in October

I should have been a pair of ragged claws
Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.
- T.S. (Thomas Stearns) Eliot

We found ourselves at the Belmar Back Bay once more. It was a quick dive, as bay dives go…. For some reason, while the water was still in the mid 50’s, it felt much colder and while the visibility was in the 5-6 foot range it seemed to be forever cloudy and while there were still little denizens scurrying around, it seemed a bit barren.

There were 5 of us and we were looking forward to nothing more than a relaxing evening stroll through the water. It was early evening and a bit cool but promised to be the best day of the weekend. The boats for Saturday had already been cancelled and the Sunday cancellations were expected to soon follow.

The water was clearer than anticipated and we hoped to catch the last of something going on as we dropped on down. It was cool and I was glad my drysuit repairs would be complete by tomorrow. It was time to put the wetsuit away. The time for fish poking was giving way to just poking about and winter diving, with its steaming hoods and ice cream headaches, just around the corner.

The blue claw crabs were small….very small and the starfish were tiny. They looked like the little gold foil stars you got on your papers in kindergarten. There were still some tube worms things buried in the sand at the edges of the vegetation and they closed up as you stuck your fingers in them, somewhat annoyed I am sure. Small winter flounder, not longer than my finger, were scattered around and I chased them. Farther along, a few small eel still slithered along and the spider crabs were big, real big, and busy burying themselves in the sand. The clams were digging in too…. seems they all got the memo about winter and were busy in preparation. Except for a lone tropical that shivered in the sea grass, having missed the last bus out and not long for this area I am sure.We finned along picking up bottles and dislodging the inhabitants to see who was home. Mostly small crabs and all feisty at that, snapping away with their tiny claws and jumping up and down threatening to kick our butts if we didn’t stop and stop now.

I picked up two empty whelk shells for my bucket at home and dropped them in Chris’s bag to keep my hands free for my compass. OK laugh…..he knew it wasn’t true too, but carried them anyway. About halfway along our planned route we got separated and while it is well known that I am navigationally challenged, those who aren’t were still a bit confused. We headed back towards shore and upon reaching the wall waited for the flag carrying portion of our group to catch up.

As we floated about on the surface we reflected on how quickly things had turned and how few live whelk we had seen this season and moonsnails too. Compared notes on our finds today and spoke of doing this again next weekend, a boat and a beach, adive on each. Maybe the inlet this time or Western World or the Bluffs, Allenhurst Jetty, the railroad bridge, Shark River…..so many places to go on a simple tank of air.

I’ve Had Worse

O mother, mother, hear the sea!
It calls across the sands;
I saw it tossing up the spray, like white,
Imploring hands,

Mary Artemisia Lathbury

Like Alice in Wonderland I woke up this morning to a strange place, some foreign land. It was 49F and the wind was blowing in huge gusts…..where was my Indian Summer……my warm sunny days and mild ocean waters?

I was meeting a group at the Back Bay for a relaxing beach dive, some final wetsuit time, the last of the tropicals, soaking up the last warm rays of the season……you know the drill. But somehow, when the night….. met the morning sun, the air temperature had dropped 20 degrees and the wind was blowing just below gale force. This was not good.

Maybe I will skip this one…..Okay, maybe I will go down and look, and talk a little dive talk and skip this one…..Okay, maybe I will put my gear in the truck just in case, but I know I will skip this one……

When I reached L Street beach in Belmar I was met by the sight of a dozen divers milling around debating the scene playing out before them. It was high tide. I don’t ever remember seeing the tide quite this high. The bay water was coming up over the bulkhead all the way to the street. There was no beach, no boat ramp and there threatened to be little parking lot. I believe you could have giant stride off the curb of Rt 35 into the water. The gusting winds were blowing white caps across the bay.

We walked down to the end of the pier where the water was over the bulkhead and ankle deep. As I waited for John to find a shell to check the visibility, my jeans soaked up the water nearly to my knees. Well, now I was wet, might as well dive.

Three of the group had left to get a late breakfast and we called them on their cells with messages of “get the hell back here…we’re diving”. Within minutes they were once again in the parking lot, announcing loudly that this was crazy as they geared up.

An AOW class took to the water first to complete their Search and Recovery dives looking for a lost fin……. And then with all the speed of molasses in winter, John, Chris and myself were in the water followed by Tony and Vince, and Dene and Eddie. Ron was left on the dock with some free flow issues which he was going to attend to while we were gone.

After some discussion of my navigational abilities, it was decided that John would be lead compass and Chris was charged with the flag. Everyone else was to stay in tight and not get lost. My job was to poke things and I was perfectly happy with that.

We slipped beneath the water and were greeted with about 3 foot of cloudy visibility. As we swam the length of the boat ramp the theme was small. Miniature blue claw crabs scurried about the sand and tiny little hermit crabs made their along the bottom. As we made our way to the channel the vegetation gave way to the expanse of silt and sand and very little else.

With the water temperature at a comfortable 59F and the current doing our work for us we continued on turning south to check out the docks and the wall.

As we approached the docks you could see a change in the water. It was much lighter and clarity improved some. The crabs got a little bigger in this area and some spider crabs and starfish began to appear. Several small flatfish were spied and scooted along and upon shaking one bottle an irate little eel stuck his head out and with a final shake was dislodged and swimming away. Several fish skeletons were scattered about with small crabs picking the bones clean for their midday snack. Some small bait fish swam about and orange sponges and purple sea urchins were scattered around the area and the hermit crabs here were the size of baseballs.

As murky as things were, if you looked closely, there were still things to see. I really think you need to do a few dives like these during the season to truly appreciate the others. I have had better dives and I have had worse…..but I don’t regret any of them. The water is a good place to be.

As we loaded our gear back in our cars, the wind still howled putting a chill in the air and the wet divers. It was time to go. John opened his car door and the wind blew his “favorite” hat out into the bay. It floated on the current making its way out to sea, the white caps threatening to sink it as it moved along. A group gathered and tried to corral it by catching it with the dive flag and towing it back. It didn’t work….it especially didn’t work when the flag was thrown and “someone who should have known better” (not me) forgot to hold onto the line. We were now rescuing one hat and one dive flag…. John did what he had to do and put on his suit again and waded out to retrieve the errant equipment so we could be on our way.

A quick stop at Pete and Eldas for a beer and a burger and it wasn’t such a bad dive day after all. Some diving, some talk, some dive stories……some time with dive friends…..there are worse things.....like the Jets game…….

Princess Cheryl Wreck

Many the wonders I this day have seen:

The ocean with its vastness, its blue green,
Its ships, its rocks, its caves, its hopes, its fears, -
Its voice mysterious, which whoso hears
Must think on what will be, and what has been,

John Keats


8AM is a civil hour….I like leaving then. I knew today would be good day….there were little signs….like I found my way to the dock without getting lost. Yea….today would be good.

I was diving the Lady Godiver and the names of my shipmates will be changed to protect the innocent. Actually only John needs protecting so we will only change his name. I was joined by Jim Woods, and the other Jim and an unnamed diver, along with Captain Howard. It was warm this morning and the sun was shining through as we left the dock. A bit of a chop to the water as we weaved our way out past Old Barney, and the ocean proved to be a bit…..snotty, but manageable.

I would be diving wet today, as my dry suit is no longer dry and my wrist seals have to be special ordered because my wrists are too small for the standard ones. Lucky for me the diving is gorgeous right now and wet is the way to go.

We are doing numbers dives today……brand new discoveries to be made…..things to be seen….Like a virgin, Touched for the very first time, Like a virgin…..Woot Woot! Another thing off my dive list. Our first stop is an unknown and we toss out a buoy and then the anchor hoping to snag a piece of the wreckage. The pool is open. The water has a fair amount of particulate and an abundance of small jellies and jelly like egg sacs floating about but we can tell from the top it will be decent visibility. As I go down the line I am gauging the viz with my computer as I am really a horror at eyeballing it. We have about 30 feet and are actually right next to a pot as we reach the sand and take advantage of the good viz and pot line to navigate about. We are at 70fsw, the water is 64F and there is a fair amount of current to fight at the bottom. I am glad I tossed a little extra weight in my pocket just in case.

I fin along the line and at the next pot look into see what has been about. There are several sea bass and a huge lobster inside, so I now know what I am looking for. Off the line there is a small pile of wreckage. Large, thick timbers that have seen some wear. Under a piece of wood is what looks to be a borderline lobster and I ignore him as I haven’t brought a goodie bag down with me. As I poke about, I come across a decent sized sea bass that appears to be snagged in a crevice of the timbers and I give a good yank on his tail, and he squirms and wiggles but he doesn’t budge from his spot. During this time my horizontally impaired lobster friend continuously comes out of his hidey hole threatening me and being a general menace. I finally make a grab, miss and follow him into his hole, pulling out what just may possibly be a keeper. He has threatened me and made me chase him to boot….I am holding on til I know different…..that’ll learn him.

I continue along the line a short while carrying my quarry, who is most dissatisfied with the arrangement, and not seeing any additional wreckage I turn to go in the other direction. This way too are a few small piles of wood and my crustacean friend is cramping my style for poking about. As I come across Jim Woods I drop him in Jims bag and get back to poking about.

Small sea bass hover at each pile of timbers, jamming themselves into each nook and cranny and I poke my way along. But the first pile of wreckage calls to me, and I go back and start to dig. I pull up pieces of the wood and fan at the sand beneath only to have another piece of wood appear. But that’s OK. Each piece of wood shows this to be a wooden sailing ship of some sort, and the condition shows it to be old. None of the wood appears to be charred and a good portion of this ship is buried beneath the sand. That tells a lot for one dive. There is no monofilament or sinkers about so the recreational fishermen have not hit here, just the lone boat with his few pots over the wreck. He may have found it first….but I do believe we “saw it” first. These fish were never poked until I came along. Sweet.

I head on up and join the boys topside to check out the catch bags. Jim and I have 4 lobsters between us, mine was referred to as the “oversized shrimp” and I promptly tossed him back. But as luck would have it…..Jims were not much bigger and all made their way back home also. The other Jim fared quite well though with a huge trigger fish, definitely a keeper.

As we made our way to the next site we compared notes as to what we found. Just a few small piles of wood scattered about but definitely a wooden sailing ship and definitely old. Very old.

We arrive at our next site and Unnamed Diver (UD for short) and I were to head on down and check this one out. The buoy was dropped and we were brought along side and dropped on down. This time I take a goodie bag with me just in case…good thing too.

We have been dropped right on a low lying wreck wall which makes navigation quite simple. This appears to be some sort of wooden fishing boat and you can see the cleats still attached to the boats gunwales. True to form there is a lobster immediately as we go down and while UD ties in the buoy I play tag with our new friend. If only my arms were a little longer, cause I am in his hole but not far enough. Time to move along. It is a small wreck and we follow the line of the gunwale along the sand and look in and about. There are quite a few small sea bass tucked in the debris along the way and one really big conger eel. Did I mention really big? We saw “eye to eye” and are good with that. There were also several more lobster for someone with just a bit longer of an arm.

At the end of the wreckage UD ties off and heads out into the sand and I head on back to try for my first little lobster friend once more. Still no go so I moved on out to a debris field of wood and tangled metal pipes, lifting several of the boards as I moved along. The bottom sides of some of these showed definite charring, something burned before it sank. In a crevice I spy a lone set of antennae and make my grab coming up with a bug for my bag. I move on back to the main rail I have been using to navigate and spy UD with what appears to be several bugs in his bag tying off on the far end of the wreck and heading out into the sand once more.

I poke about a bit more and head off to the sand and the planking and metal pipes to pull up more wood and fan the sand to see what it might hold. As I move on up and down this area I spy another lobster making a run for a hole and grab him also….and in my bag he goes.

Other than charred wood I don’t find much else and come across UD once more and he has liberated a gauge of some sort and it now occupies his bag, except for the few short moments he takes it out to show me. But hmmmmm….that is all that is in the bag…….hmmmmmm…….

We are at 69 fsw, there is still a current on the bottom and the water is 63F. It was only a short time since my first dive and I have reached my NDL. I search out the buoy line and head on up. I am hanging at 14 fsw, 15 fsw, 14fsw…….24fsw. Hmmmm. Lets try that again. I am hanging at 14 fsw, 15 fsw, 14fsw……8fsw…...26fsw. There appears to be a bit of a surge here….a bit strong and I need to concentrate here. I recall my time with Ernie, when Frnak had all the fun….and I got to hover. It served me well…..and I managed to hold my own for my hang.

Once on the surface, Captain Howard spotted me right away and came in for the pick up and I was soon onboard. As stories go….. on this dive “someone”, we wont say who, but it wasn’t me…. Had 5 lobsters make a break for freedom from their goodie bag….

Off in the sand, the propeller and some brass or copper pipe was spotted and there will be a liberation dive coming up. A salvage dive….another thing on my list…..today really is good.

Only one of my two lobster is a keeper and the short guy is sent back down. Since we will be returning here, we needed a name and it is now officially referred to as……… The Princess Cheryl Wreck…… sweet.

As we set sail to our next site we commented on how quickly the fall has passed and how much we were enjoying the warm weather and water. Life is good.

Our next stop was a buoy and drop for Jim and Jim…..they went over and the rest of us relaxed onboard, enjoying the warm weather despite the nuisance of swells of the water. When Jim and Jim returned they reported that they did not have the same luck as we did but were dropped on a huge, as in massive sized links huge, chain that was laid out along the bottom and followed it for almost 200 feet coming across nothing. Too much of this site was sanded in and so we headed out to the Viscaya for our final dive of the day.

I have dove the Viscaya before. A steamer, that was sunk in the dead of night by a collision with the Cornelius Hargraves which also promptly sunk nearby. It was morning before the few survivors were found and the tragedy discovered. Jim W and I were the only two to partake of this dive, and as we went down the line it seemed the visibility was slowly dwindling. We were still at 20+ feet of viz, and the water a warm 64F, with the bottom current still with us.

As I looked around the site was very familiar. We were tied in to near the boilers and I swam up over and around them looking down at the large sea bass hiding inside. Off of the boilers was a large pipe, I remember chasing fish back and forth through here and I swam about revisiting other sights. A large school of trigger fish swam about just off of the boilers and looking high and low not a lobster was to be seen. It was soon time to come up and as I hit the line I grabbed Jims strobe and took it with me, the sign that I was up the line and for him to pull the hook. I hit the surface and was given a tow back to the ladder and after a long day on the water it was appreciated. Jim was just a few minutes behind me and with him he brought a sea bass weighing in at over 3lbs. Not a bad catch. Not a bad day.

Think I will do this diving thing again. After all, I have to go back to the Princess Cheryl.