Earth hath more silver, pearls, and gold,
Than eyes can see or hands can hold.
Yet the treasure I want so dear,
I can neither see nor hold or make seem clear.
Than eyes can see or hands can hold.
Yet the treasure I want so dear,
I can neither see nor hold or make seem clear.
~ Anne Bradstreet
They say you can’t go home….. I am not so sure that is true……
It was cold in Florida….. So I did what any red-blooded displaced Jersey Girl would do. I packed up and headed north for some good old Jersey diving. I arrived just in time for the snowstorm of the month.
My ride, the LadyGoDiver, my buddies for the day, Captain Howard, Francis, Bart the Moon Snail Master, and Captain Stan.
As we wait for the last of the outgoing tide to clear the dock so we can load onboard, Bart jumps up and clears the snow from the deck.
The heater fires up and we head out of the inlet on gently rolling seas and contemplate where to go.
The wreck of choice is the Bell Holder. Now, a lot has happened since the last time I dove this wreck. The Bell Holder is no longer the wreck where they found the bell holder but not the bell. The bell has since been found and now it truly is just the Bell Holder.
As usual there is always something……things always happen….. like someone forgets their fins when they jump in…… you know …..things ……(was Bart this time....not me!)
I suit up and make my way over to the port side, place my knee on the gunwale and launch myself over the side…..such grace……. I’ve still got it.
There is a strong surface current and one by one we are towed forward to the anchor line and we descend.
The water is dark and green, almost a jewel tone, and thick with egg casings. Millions of them floating all around. As I reach the wreck at about 62fsw, I tie in and head out. This wreck is familiar to me and I look about to see what changes may have been made with this crazy winter weather. I am heading towards the bow to look for my friend the resident eel. He is always there but I am thinking this strange season may have forced him out to deeper water to keep warm and I am right. His little home is empty….the blinds are pulled, the lights are out and his mail is piling up.
Not much else has changed. There is still the long mast like wood jutting out into the water. It is taking a beating and I can see the signs of deterioration showing on its length. The walls are covered in assorted corals and anemones; it all just awaits the return of sea life with the warming of the waters.
My fingers are starting to feel the cold of the 38F water, I use 5ml gloves because the 7ml are just too thick for me, but I don’t want to leave just yet….and so I continue on. I see no fish around and the visibility is only about 5 feet so I peer closely as I move about. There are starfish in the sand. Not huge ones, not tiny ones, but a respectable supply of midsized ones. With no fish to poke I have to settle for poking the lonely stars laying scattered about. I am just making sure they are still with us and not frozen solid. Hey….someone has to check on these things, inquiring minds want to know.
Shells choices are limited. The only ones I see are clamshells…….hundreds of huge empty clam shells lay piled against the wreck, pushed in with the working currents of the season. As I move off a bit into the sand to see if anything is unearthed I see the definitive ridges in the sand showing the waters movement but not much else.
I am approaching 30 minutes and freezing fingers and remember that Bart is off collecting sinkers and Stan is digging for gold, time to go up and see if they have had any luck.
It is a cold hang on the line but I do and float watching a gazillion egg sacs float past. Sadly they remind me of snot and I am not imagining new little friends to poke. Just elongated jellied sacs encompassing a round brown spot. They practically block out the green of the water. But I work to look past them and can still make out the emerald green color so familiar to me.
As I climb the ladder I have hooked my reel to my scooter ring and my fingers just don’t want to work the clip. Bart reaches down and grabs the reel and I climb onboard with a soggy thump.
A few minutes of warming in front of Wall-E (swear the heater on board looks just like the robot from the movie) and I am ready to hear how everyone did. We had navigational glass, a brass valve and antique sinkers, lobster and other goodies. Life is good.
We head over to our second site, we are going off shore to look for some better viz and heading for the Cobblestone Wreck, another familiar site. As we make our way out hoods and gloves sit steaming around the heater. A close watch is kept on all to prevent the annual melting of the dive gear and we do good.
As we get ready for dive #2 some of us fall by the wayside……it wasn’t me that said Stan wimped out….but he did. Others of us launch ourselves into the sea. The current is still cruising along and we are still getting rides to the anchor line.
I drop down and note that the water is clearer, about 15 feet of viz, not as many egg sacs, not quite as green, and a whole degree warmer at 39F at 87fsw. I hit the wreck and reach for my reel. There is a decent current on the bottom this time and I plan to hug the wreck. Do you remember Bart taking my reel on the ladder? Me neither. Doh!! No biggie, I just locked on to Bart’s line and followed it out till I found him. I began rooting around as he did and while Bart found sinkers and other treasures, I found an odd piece of wood and a long metal spike.
As he reeled on in, I trailed behind looking for things to poke and again found no fish out and about. The cold kept this dive shorter and up we went. To the boat and the warmth of Wall-E.
Upon surfacing I still had my spike in hand but the piece of wood I had carefully balanced in my pocket was gone. And Stan wouldn’t jump in and find it for me …… go figure…..
As it turns out my spike isn’t brass (I still don’t believe it ) but if I paint it up pretty and give it a story…… no one will ever know.
A tiny crab is found in among the days treasures and offered to me to poke…..alas he is frozen solid and putting him too near the heater produces grilled crab.
We are making a third stop today on the Stanley H., a new set of numbers, and throw out a buoy as Captain Stan shows us his boating skillz. Without a doubt…… “THAT was going in my dive report”……
This site shall be revisited…… there may or may not be any gold bars, if I told you they would have to kill me…. Really….they told me that…… and we brought up none of the silver and china this trip…. Just too cold and tired at this point. I am sure Howard marked where the 12lb lobster sat on the porthole through which you could see the safe and what appeared to be the outline of a bell. He will be going back….. true story…. Will just have to save it for another day……..
They say you can’t go home….. I am not so sure that is true……
It was cold in Florida….. So I did what any red-blooded displaced Jersey Girl would do. I packed up and headed north for some good old Jersey diving. I arrived just in time for the snowstorm of the month.
My ride, the LadyGoDiver, my buddies for the day, Captain Howard, Francis, Bart the Moon Snail Master, and Captain Stan.
As we wait for the last of the outgoing tide to clear the dock so we can load onboard, Bart jumps up and clears the snow from the deck.
The heater fires up and we head out of the inlet on gently rolling seas and contemplate where to go.The wreck of choice is the Bell Holder. Now, a lot has happened since the last time I dove this wreck. The Bell Holder is no longer the wreck where they found the bell holder but not the bell. The bell has since been found and now it truly is just the Bell Holder.
As usual there is always something……things always happen….. like someone forgets their fins when they jump in…… you know …..things ……(was Bart this time....not me!)
I suit up and make my way over to the port side, place my knee on the gunwale and launch myself over the side…..such grace……. I’ve still got it.
There is a strong surface current and one by one we are towed forward to the anchor line and we descend.
The water is dark and green, almost a jewel tone, and thick with egg casings. Millions of them floating all around. As I reach the wreck at about 62fsw, I tie in and head out. This wreck is familiar to me and I look about to see what changes may have been made with this crazy winter weather. I am heading towards the bow to look for my friend the resident eel. He is always there but I am thinking this strange season may have forced him out to deeper water to keep warm and I am right. His little home is empty….the blinds are pulled, the lights are out and his mail is piling up.
Not much else has changed. There is still the long mast like wood jutting out into the water. It is taking a beating and I can see the signs of deterioration showing on its length. The walls are covered in assorted corals and anemones; it all just awaits the return of sea life with the warming of the waters.
My fingers are starting to feel the cold of the 38F water, I use 5ml gloves because the 7ml are just too thick for me, but I don’t want to leave just yet….and so I continue on. I see no fish around and the visibility is only about 5 feet so I peer closely as I move about. There are starfish in the sand. Not huge ones, not tiny ones, but a respectable supply of midsized ones. With no fish to poke I have to settle for poking the lonely stars laying scattered about. I am just making sure they are still with us and not frozen solid. Hey….someone has to check on these things, inquiring minds want to know.
Shells choices are limited. The only ones I see are clamshells…….hundreds of huge empty clam shells lay piled against the wreck, pushed in with the working currents of the season. As I move off a bit into the sand to see if anything is unearthed I see the definitive ridges in the sand showing the waters movement but not much else.
I am approaching 30 minutes and freezing fingers and remember that Bart is off collecting sinkers and Stan is digging for gold, time to go up and see if they have had any luck.
It is a cold hang on the line but I do and float watching a gazillion egg sacs float past. Sadly they remind me of snot and I am not imagining new little friends to poke. Just elongated jellied sacs encompassing a round brown spot. They practically block out the green of the water. But I work to look past them and can still make out the emerald green color so familiar to me.
As I climb the ladder I have hooked my reel to my scooter ring and my fingers just don’t want to work the clip. Bart reaches down and grabs the reel and I climb onboard with a soggy thump.
A few minutes of warming in front of Wall-E (swear the heater on board looks just like the robot from the movie) and I am ready to hear how everyone did. We had navigational glass, a brass valve and antique sinkers, lobster and other goodies. Life is good.
We head over to our second site, we are going off shore to look for some better viz and heading for the Cobblestone Wreck, another familiar site. As we make our way out hoods and gloves sit steaming around the heater. A close watch is kept on all to prevent the annual melting of the dive gear and we do good.
As we get ready for dive #2 some of us fall by the wayside……it wasn’t me that said Stan wimped out….but he did. Others of us launch ourselves into the sea. The current is still cruising along and we are still getting rides to the anchor line.
I drop down and note that the water is clearer, about 15 feet of viz, not as many egg sacs, not quite as green, and a whole degree warmer at 39F at 87fsw. I hit the wreck and reach for my reel. There is a decent current on the bottom this time and I plan to hug the wreck. Do you remember Bart taking my reel on the ladder? Me neither. Doh!! No biggie, I just locked on to Bart’s line and followed it out till I found him. I began rooting around as he did and while Bart found sinkers and other treasures, I found an odd piece of wood and a long metal spike.
As he reeled on in, I trailed behind looking for things to poke and again found no fish out and about. The cold kept this dive shorter and up we went. To the boat and the warmth of Wall-E.
Upon surfacing I still had my spike in hand but the piece of wood I had carefully balanced in my pocket was gone. And Stan wouldn’t jump in and find it for me …… go figure…..
As it turns out my spike isn’t brass (I still don’t believe it ) but if I paint it up pretty and give it a story…… no one will ever know.
A tiny crab is found in among the days treasures and offered to me to poke…..alas he is frozen solid and putting him too near the heater produces grilled crab.
We are making a third stop today on the Stanley H., a new set of numbers, and throw out a buoy as Captain Stan shows us his boating skillz. Without a doubt…… “THAT was going in my dive report”……
This site shall be revisited…… there may or may not be any gold bars, if I told you they would have to kill me…. Really….they told me that…… and we brought up none of the silver and china this trip…. Just too cold and tired at this point. I am sure Howard marked where the 12lb lobster sat on the porthole through which you could see the safe and what appeared to be the outline of a bell. He will be going back….. true story…. Will just have to save it for another day……..
We caught up on the local gossip and revisited past trips, ate cookies and smiled a lot….. it’s what diving is all about, at least for me. Good times, good friends, good dives…… you’re not rid of me yet. I will be back. I love diving in New Jersey, it's good to be home......