There's a Step!!

The three great elemental sounds in nature are the sound of rain, the sound of wind in a primeval wood, and the sound of outer ocean on a beach.
Henry Beston~ American, Writer

Today held all three, rain, wind and waves….. and a step…… the water, wind and waves are a given …. But a step!!! I can’t believe there’s a step! All this time and there’s a damned step!!!

I awoke this morning to fog and rain as I walked the dog and loaded the car. But I got no call so I headed on down the Parkway.

I arrived at the marina to a flurry of activity as everyone was emptying their cars and loading onto the Lady GoDiver for a day on the seas. It was duly noted I was diving singles this day and my gear was quickly stowed. I hadn’t planned on single tanks and I quickly swapped out hoses and arranged gear. It is amazing how quickly you acquire muscle memory to a certain set up and a little switch makes you have to stop and think.

We were 5 in all, Jack, Francis, Jeff, Howard and myself. And all 5 pairs of eyes were on the lookout as we headed out into the thick fog on the bay. As we reached the inlet the water took on a snotty attitude, with a thick chop following us all the way to the mouth of the inlet where deep rolling waves greeted us until we were clear of the land in the ocean. Once out, the water calmed and we made our way forward to our first stop the San Saba. Later in the season, this site will be continuously occupied by divers and fishermen alike and we felt confident today we would have it to ourselves.

We were correct and quickly hooked in and readied to see what the bottom held. The San Saba was an iron hulled freighter sunk in 1918 by floating mines laid by the enemy U-Boats of WWI that wrecked havoc up and down our coast. She lost 30 of her 37 member crew that night and now lies broken in two in 80 fsw with boilers, winches and other machinery spread across the sandy bottom.

I was ready in record time and quickly made my way to the rail…. Quickly should have been my clue…… As I put my knee on the gunwale, Howard called over to me “Are you going to take your fins?”….. He insisted… so I put them on and tossed myself into the water.

As I pulled down the line I felt a little light but a few tugs and I was on my way and my attention turned to trying to see something. The water was hazy and thick and I was at the chain when I finally made out the shapes of wreckage below. The bottom has warmed some, weighing in at about 46F, and a crisp current at the sand cleared the water to about 10 or 12 foot of hazy visibility. We were tied in to a huge open boiler, lying on its side, partially sunken into the sand and covered in soft corals and blooming anemones. If you went to the sand you could look through this tunnel of sorts, and it was littered with starfish and gi-normous clam shells, but only a few small fish. They would have to do. I tied in my reel and set out into the sand to see what was about. I am now using reel #3 as I await a new screw to replace the one I lost last dive out. This is my cave reel and for some reason there is a little bit of sticking as I play out line and move along. I keep adjusting until I am holding the adjustment screw in my hand and now just give in and put it in my pocket and move along.

There are collar shaped moon snail egg casings lying in the sand and starfish and clamshells and sand dollars….I choose a sand dollar for my shell bucket, but nothing else is of interest and I head back to poke about the wreckage. Here I find small blackfish and sea bass rummaging about, but Jack must have been ahead of me as all the holes are empty and no claws and antennae greet me.

I head back to the line and debate how to stow this reel. It is large and bulky and sure to unravel on the trip up. As I ponder, Jeff opens his bag and points….the decision is easy and I drop it in the bag and head up.

As we hang at our 3 minute stop, the water feels comfortable compared to the chilly hangs earlier this winter and my mind wanders as I ponder this. Looking at my computer I am surprised to note that I am no longer at 15 ft but back at 22 ft and Jeff is right with me. There is a bit of surge going on here and we have to pay a bit of attention as we finish our hang.

Topside, a single tank is a breeze to walk up the ladder compared to my doubles and I am back on board in no time. Emptying my dry suit pocket is a bit like Christmas, I apparently have not done so in a while. I pull out a knife, a moon snail shell, a clam shell, a rock, the screw to my reel and the broken pieces of my sand dollar….. Oh well…

The wind has picked up some and is apparently the culprit of our hang time dilemma as it rocks us about as we await our last divers return. Turns out, Jack has the same reel…. If I lose that screw next dive I now know where I am “shopping” for my new one…..

Our next stop is the Chappara, just a mile away, another freighter to fall prey to the U-boat mines of WWI, sinking just 3 weeks after the San Saba.

I have “issues” this time gearing up. I take forever gearing up and am a little damp from the previous dive and not happy. I will be sending my suit back to California for a final decision on my leaking seams….. somewhere in the dry part of a dry suit…. You should be dry right? Ackk….don’t start me…..

I do a knee roll into the water, I am sure looking more like I am cannonballing the last diver instead of following him down, and I am on my way.

The water is still 46F at 84 fsw and the visibility is still 10 to 12 feet but as I move along it does not seem as hazy. There is still a current but it feels slightly weaker, or maybe it is just the way it falls across the wreck, and I am not working as hard to move about. I am down on a short filled tank and plan on a short dive so I make the most of my time motoring along the wreckage and peeking all about. There are more fish here, they are not bigger than the San Saba fish but more plentiful. I collect a moon snail shell for my bucket and look about for some sinkers, only finding one in need of rescuing. As it turns out, Francis was ahead of me and rescued all the others…. Who knew…..?

I have peeked, poked, prodded and pocketed some shells…. I am approaching 500psi and my job here is done….. up the line I go. The surge is not present here and the hang is uneventful, as is my climb up the ladder…. I do like scrambling up the rungs with the lighter tank instead of lumbering with the doubles. We shall see….

The sun has broken though the haze and the day is turning out nicely, no more rain, or wind or waves… the cooler is filling nicely with a final count of 8 lobster, Howards on a roll, and some ling, one who was exceptionally ugly….. so I didn’t poke him.

This would be the end of the story if it wasn’t for the step…

I nap peacefully on the way in and awake to sunshine, flat seas and the sight of bulk heading….. we are back. The lines are secured and we begin to unload onto the dock….. crates, dry suits, dry bags and weights are placed ashore. The same routine for 2 years now. I have it down to a science. I slip into my harness and climb up on the transom….grab hold of the ladder and pull myself up standing…. Stretch over to the dock and clamor up on the bulk heading…. And then onto the back of my truck. One more tank and I am done.

As I turn I see Francis making his way with his rig also…. Only to have it shift a tad and what happens next you ask? You have to love this…..

Howard asks….”Francis, do you want ……. the step?”…… “I think so” he answers…..

There is a freaking step!!!! They all stand back and watch me struggle to get my tanks off the boat and then they pull out a freaking step!!!! Two years and no one tells me about “the step”…. Francis bobbles for 8 seconds and out comes the step.

Look out now….I’ll show them…..I know about the secret step….the damned step. Nice guys….nice.