The old man knew he was going far out and he left the smell of the land behind and rowed out into the clean early morning smell of the ocean.
~Ernest Hemmingway “The Old Man and the Sea”~
Hmmmm…… lets see …… last time I dove it was 74 F water temps and 100 ft viz ….. today it was 26 F as I loaded on board for a 44 F dive with 20 ft visibility …… what was I thinking? …… going off and diving that warm water stuff ….
A tad nippy this morning as I made my way to the Lady Godiver, 26 F, and Howard moved the boat on me again, this was a 2 cuppa coffee kinda morning.
I arrived at Main One and began loading my gear onboard. Francis, John, Mike and Stan the popsicle man were already there as was a lone swan named Delilah, hereinafter referred to as D. Swan. Dee kept close watch as we set up our gear and after finishing, she and I had a heart to heart while we shared some Munchkins. They go straight to her hips but she loves them anyway. Scott from Shore Aquatics stopped by to say hello and soon after we were all stowed away and set out with Dee swimming as fast as she could to keep up.
Shark River was flat but I had heard the wind would be at work today. I read it on the internet, so it had to be true.
We made our way 5 miles out to a wreck whose name escaped the good captain, but whose remains held promise of good hunting. Upon arriving, we were greeted with 3 footers, rolling fast and hard and having their way with the boat as we tried to hook into a piece of the wreckage. It was decided that we would forego this site and head inshore for something more protected, and we set sail for the Bell Holder. You remember the Bell Holder…. wooden wreck, inshore, not Belle Holder as in ladies name, but Bell Holder as in they only found the holder and not the bell…. that Bell Holder.
I have my new wing, to better fit my tanks, and cant figure out how to get my computer back in the console, so I guess it will remain a wrist mount for the time being. My drysuit valves have been tightened and my manifold lubricated. A never ending process this kit of mine. Lets dive.
We were bundled in our warm under roos and tucked in our rigs as we rolled off the side, well most of us were. Stan the popsicle man was diving wet, on purpose, go figure. Earlier, in the cabin, we had questioned why his booties were smoking. He apparently has a system to all this.
As I descended on the line, I was sure to hold on as the water was a thick green color and the only things I could see were the line and my hand if I was close enough. I could feel the trickle of water on my left arm as my suit leaked once more. It was not looking good.
As I arrived at the anchor things opened up considerably and the wooden planking came into view. Running left of the tie in to the end of the wood and ribs, several small blackfish swam about and starfish were all that were tucked beneath slowly decaying boards. Here I found my shell for my bucket at home and as I looked about, I “tapped several fish on the shoulder” to ask directions to where the larger denizens were congregated. Okay, so I poked them and pointed, happy?
Back at the tie in I could feel the water squish in my sleeve but headed right to have a look. Here was where the big guns were hanging. Swimming in and out of holes but staying close to the safety of the wreck. At the end of the debris, a long wooden pole extended out into the sand. Possibly a mast or even a wooden shaft of some sort, I gave a look and pondered this before turning back. Back at the wreck, I spied a large eel curled up outside a hole. His tail was wrapped round him like a cat curled up on a rug in front of the fire and the haziness of the water played with the greens of his body making him a spectrum of color all snuggled there in the sand in front of his den. He made a striking picture.
Francis had his camera with him and I brought him over to the scene as quickly as I could, but my squiggly friend had already moved on. I could have easily stayed much longer with so much to poke under and about but I was chilled now and needed to go up.
I followed Francis up the line and as I hung in the hazy cloud of green water I thought hard for the name of the dry suit guru I had been told about. The name did come to me and my dry suit will be paying Steve Gamble a visit.
With the post being gone from the ladder for winter, climbing on board was a bit of a challenge with nothing to grab onto. As I reached the top step, a quick lift on my manifold brought me over the transom and into the cabin to warm up. Thank you gentlemen.
The water here was much calmer but still had a bit of fight in her and we pulled from the mooring as we waited for the last of the divers to exit the water. Several nice sized fish were speared and John managed to just reach out and grab what looked to be a blackfish of maybe 12 lbs. I am sure that fish was more surprised than John as he went into that goody bag. Good job!
I poured water out of my sleeve, wrung out my thermal top and changed into warm dry clothes. With a chill on me, I was done for the day. And of course, as luck would have it, our second dive of the day was on the Vega, a wreck I have never been on. Oh well, next time.
Mike and John opted to sit out this dive also. So it was up to Francis to bring us back pictures and Stan the popsicle man to give a report. They headed over the side, Francis with his camera and Stan with speargun in hand and we waited to hear what was below.
The Vega is a sunken ferry, lying turtled and intact on the bottom, its metal hull just beginning to show signs of giving way to the oceans poundings. There were fish, but all small and Francis videoed the exterior to share with those of us who did not visit her. As we readied for the ride in the air was still steel cold but the sun shone down keeping the damp and gloom that could have been at bay.
I have had better days on the water, and certainly much worse. Tis good to be wet, even on days such as these. I will go again.
~Ernest Hemmingway “The Old Man and the Sea”~
Hmmmm…… lets see …… last time I dove it was 74 F water temps and 100 ft viz ….. today it was 26 F as I loaded on board for a 44 F dive with 20 ft visibility …… what was I thinking? …… going off and diving that warm water stuff ….
A tad nippy this morning as I made my way to the Lady Godiver, 26 F, and Howard moved the boat on me again, this was a 2 cuppa coffee kinda morning.
I arrived at Main One and began loading my gear onboard. Francis, John, Mike and Stan the popsicle man were already there as was a lone swan named Delilah, hereinafter referred to as D. Swan. Dee kept close watch as we set up our gear and after finishing, she and I had a heart to heart while we shared some Munchkins. They go straight to her hips but she loves them anyway. Scott from Shore Aquatics stopped by to say hello and soon after we were all stowed away and set out with Dee swimming as fast as she could to keep up.
Shark River was flat but I had heard the wind would be at work today. I read it on the internet, so it had to be true.
We made our way 5 miles out to a wreck whose name escaped the good captain, but whose remains held promise of good hunting. Upon arriving, we were greeted with 3 footers, rolling fast and hard and having their way with the boat as we tried to hook into a piece of the wreckage. It was decided that we would forego this site and head inshore for something more protected, and we set sail for the Bell Holder. You remember the Bell Holder…. wooden wreck, inshore, not Belle Holder as in ladies name, but Bell Holder as in they only found the holder and not the bell…. that Bell Holder.
I have my new wing, to better fit my tanks, and cant figure out how to get my computer back in the console, so I guess it will remain a wrist mount for the time being. My drysuit valves have been tightened and my manifold lubricated. A never ending process this kit of mine. Lets dive.
We were bundled in our warm under roos and tucked in our rigs as we rolled off the side, well most of us were. Stan the popsicle man was diving wet, on purpose, go figure. Earlier, in the cabin, we had questioned why his booties were smoking. He apparently has a system to all this.
As I descended on the line, I was sure to hold on as the water was a thick green color and the only things I could see were the line and my hand if I was close enough. I could feel the trickle of water on my left arm as my suit leaked once more. It was not looking good.
As I arrived at the anchor things opened up considerably and the wooden planking came into view. Running left of the tie in to the end of the wood and ribs, several small blackfish swam about and starfish were all that were tucked beneath slowly decaying boards. Here I found my shell for my bucket at home and as I looked about, I “tapped several fish on the shoulder” to ask directions to where the larger denizens were congregated. Okay, so I poked them and pointed, happy?
Back at the tie in I could feel the water squish in my sleeve but headed right to have a look. Here was where the big guns were hanging. Swimming in and out of holes but staying close to the safety of the wreck. At the end of the debris, a long wooden pole extended out into the sand. Possibly a mast or even a wooden shaft of some sort, I gave a look and pondered this before turning back. Back at the wreck, I spied a large eel curled up outside a hole. His tail was wrapped round him like a cat curled up on a rug in front of the fire and the haziness of the water played with the greens of his body making him a spectrum of color all snuggled there in the sand in front of his den. He made a striking picture.
Francis had his camera with him and I brought him over to the scene as quickly as I could, but my squiggly friend had already moved on. I could have easily stayed much longer with so much to poke under and about but I was chilled now and needed to go up.
I followed Francis up the line and as I hung in the hazy cloud of green water I thought hard for the name of the dry suit guru I had been told about. The name did come to me and my dry suit will be paying Steve Gamble a visit.
With the post being gone from the ladder for winter, climbing on board was a bit of a challenge with nothing to grab onto. As I reached the top step, a quick lift on my manifold brought me over the transom and into the cabin to warm up. Thank you gentlemen.
The water here was much calmer but still had a bit of fight in her and we pulled from the mooring as we waited for the last of the divers to exit the water. Several nice sized fish were speared and John managed to just reach out and grab what looked to be a blackfish of maybe 12 lbs. I am sure that fish was more surprised than John as he went into that goody bag. Good job!
I poured water out of my sleeve, wrung out my thermal top and changed into warm dry clothes. With a chill on me, I was done for the day. And of course, as luck would have it, our second dive of the day was on the Vega, a wreck I have never been on. Oh well, next time.
Mike and John opted to sit out this dive also. So it was up to Francis to bring us back pictures and Stan the popsicle man to give a report. They headed over the side, Francis with his camera and Stan with speargun in hand and we waited to hear what was below.
The Vega is a sunken ferry, lying turtled and intact on the bottom, its metal hull just beginning to show signs of giving way to the oceans poundings. There were fish, but all small and Francis videoed the exterior to share with those of us who did not visit her. As we readied for the ride in the air was still steel cold but the sun shone down keeping the damp and gloom that could have been at bay.
I have had better days on the water, and certainly much worse. Tis good to be wet, even on days such as these. I will go again.