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!