Peacock with TMet

You have brains in yer heads, and feet in yer shoes.

You can steer yerself in any direction you choose.

Yer on yer own, and you know what you know.

You are the one who'll decide where to go"

~Dr. Seusss

It was dark out when I got up….. no fair! What is this all about……. Caves don’t have tides….. no assigned time slots….. it is the advantage to looking at wet rocks……. Where is my advantage? Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa……..

TMet is a slave driver….cracking the whip…… up before dawn …. Pack into the car….He didn’t even bring donuts!!! Waaaaaaaaaaaaaa…………..

Enough of the whining……I smuggled a cup of coffee into the truck, along with my dog and my dive gear and we were off. We didn’t stop for gas, or a potty break, or donuts……. Sorry, back to the dive story.

We arrived at the Dive Outpost late-morning and unpacked the car…….no we weren’t staying…. We just put the tanks on the bottom, in the future we will reconsider this strategy….. anyway, it was quiet and while Ron put a cave fill in some and “topped off” the rest we stretched our legs and looked about. Grabbing a few supplies and hoses, and a Twix bar…..they had no donuts….. I know I know…. focus……. We collected what we need and packed back into the car.

Hobie found a soft piece of floor and opted to stay, knowing full well that anyone who entered the shop would fall for his sad eyes routine and give him a pet and a milkbone…… he is a fan of cave country.

We pulled into the park and headed for Peacock. There is a new trail running through the park and I told Terry about it as we drove. This project has been a few years in the making and is entirely designed, built and paid for by cave divers. We have been told it is one of the best in any of the States many parks and divers should take pride in this. Anyone who dives the springs and parks in north Florida should take a few moments and join and support the North Florida Springs Alliance. http://northfloridaspringsalliance.org/ This organization is a wonderful ambassador for the diving community providing things like this interpretive trail, promoting conservation of the springs and working to open more areas to divers. The trail is 1.05 mile long, beginning at the Peacock steps and ending there as well. It follows the same route as the caves below the ground with over a half dozen stations describing the caves below and trail above. These are located at places like the Breakdown Room, Crypt, Peanut Restriction and Olsen Sink. Olsen will also have a scenic overlook built there so you can walk out over the top of the sink and get a good look down into it. (no throwing rocks at the divers below…. They told me that….I don’t know why… really…) A few weeks ago I met some other divers here and we spent a few days clearing the trails, putting benches in along the trail and setting the signs in at each stop…they weighed in at over 250 lbs each, Tim the Toolman would be proud.

The park ranger remembered me, he introduced me to another ranger as the one who got their 4 wheel drive golf cart stuck between 2 trees, a story for another day…..

If you are in the area, be sure to take a few minutes to walk this trail and enjoy it.

Terry and I geared up and other divers made their way out of the water or into the park. Even on a Monday there is a steady stream of divers here enjoying the caves.

I am still working out the kinks on my new dry suit. Cannot say I am a fan yet, but I am working on it…. There is less water in this one than my last one, so that is a good thing.


Terry is practicing and getting ready to further his training. He is making his way to full cave and doing just fine. I think I have to keep a close eye on my double 85’s from here on in though, as he is a fan of them.

There were a few equipment glitches and after ironing them out we were on our way.

The walkway out to the Peacock steps is only a short distance in flipflops but extends, meanders and snakes its way along when you are carrying a100 lbs or so of dive gear. Like the march to Bataan we made our way to the water. I sat on the steps, pulled on my fins and plummeted face first into the water. It is an art and I am the master of it.

A quick bubble check and we are on our way. I have my new reel and I am about to give it a workout. There are 2 other teams already in the system and it takes several tries to find a good spot to tie in around them, they took all the good rocks!

Securely tied to the cavern entrance we make our way inside. Our first dive will be the right side and out to Pothole Sink.

A short distance into the cavern is an oval opening in the rock wall. As you slide into this opening you drop almost straight down 65 feet making your way to the floor and the beginning of the cave. I tie into the gold line and we make our way forward. I am struggling in my drysuit with about 3 feet more zipper than there is real estate across the front of me and am working on how to move the air about my suit though this excess as I adjust my buoyancy during the dive. My struggle seems to be in the beginning of the dive. Going from the surface to the cavern and getting rid of the bulk of air. I don’t believe I had any problems in the cave and Terry did not point out any bouncing about so I am good so far, although I do need to put a bit more air in the suit next dive.

Terry is moving about brilliantly, getting to enjoy the cave as a tourist and not a student.

Large rocks give way to lower passages with silty floors. The beams of our lights illuminate arched grotto like alcoves along the cave walls and the white of the walls contrast sharply with the dark floors and sand. The arches increase in size as we move along extending across the cave and providing openings large enough to swim through and explore. The cave begins to widen and several pure white crayfish scurry along the floors. These are troglobites. They live only in the pure dark of the caves and so have no eyes as there is no need to see and no color as they need not hide from an enemy nor attract a mate. They are especially fun when they float down from the ceiling and you catch them in your light like it’s raining creepy crawlers.

At Pothole Sink the dome of the cave opens up and rises over 50 feet into the air and as you look up you see a hazy patch of blue where the sunshine from the surface filters down into the water stretching its rays far as it can reach into the black of the cave. There is a T tied into the line pointing the way to the surface with a note stating “Emergency Exit Only” and halfway up the wall a small ledge. The cave narrows after this and the Nicholson Tunnel lies beyond.

We turn head on back seeing Mother Nature’s architecture from a whole new angle. Some of the dark grotto like indentures light up as small passageways with at least one tying into the left side of the system. There is no flow and the quiet and the dark lets your thoughts concentrate and wonder at what you are seeing. I pick up my reel and begin to crank in the excess as we slowly rise up the wall and towards the surface. The line tangles round the spool, but this is a wreck reel and I have used it before, I know it will keep going. It continues to tangle but still turn and as I reach my tie in I have a mess round the reel but no unspooled line. Yep, this will be my primary from now on.

At the surface I clip off my tangled reel to a stage clip at the steps and we float about resting and planning the second half of this dive. The left side and the Breakdown Room.

We sink back below the surface and I tie around another team’s line and we make our way back into the cavern. I tie into the gold line and we make our way to the start of the tunnel and the grim reaper sign proclaiming “there is nothing in this cave worth dying for”. This is true. When your light is out and there is no sound, and a dark so black that not a hint of the outside world pierces it. You need to touch your eyelids to see if they are open or closed but you cannot for there is a mask in the way and help or harm could be but an arms length away and you cannot see it…. You want to know what to do and how to do it.

I think of this each time I pass one of these signs and go over in my mind what I need to do. Then the cave is there and I swim on. Past rocks and boulders of all shapes and sizes as you slowly go deeper and then there above is again a small slit, ledge like, and as you approach it you see it extends to the left in a low narrow like passage. Through the Chute and into the Breakdown Room we go.

As we pass along the rock encased tube of a tunnel you can see it is not just wet rocks. There are fossils, some lying on the bed of rocks, small perfect scallop shells permanently embalmed in stone and bits and pieces sticking up from the rock floor. You can scoot along through here pulling on the occasion and riding it like something at Disney or you can march on through eyes forward, finning perfectly not touching floor nor ceiling and making your way along looking for the end and anticipating the rooms farther back, or you can meander like a drunk down a hallway with no straight line and check along the floors and walls for the fossils. Little treasures, time capsules of a time gone by and long past. The sea was here, starfish and sand dollars dotted this floor. Maybe great sharks swam this same passage, maybe it was not always a cave. So many maybes, so much wonder.

This gives way to larger and larger spaces and once again boulders of rock line the floor and as we turn to make our way back I listen…. Can I hear footsteps…. Are there people walking, children running just above our heads? The silence is deafening. But they are up there, in some spots not more than 20 feet above…. There are squirrels scurrying and snakes slithering and maybe even people following the trail…. And reading those signs…. Planted 30 inches deep…. I know cause my arm is 29 inches and if I couldn’t touch the bottom of the hole than it was 30 inches and deep enough.

Ahhh, the surface. We are on our way.

Terry is in the lead now. Beams of light bouncing off white rock in every direction as we take one last look. Silvery pools pock the ceiling. They are pockets of trapped air waiting their turn to make their way slowly up to the surface through the porous limestone rock. And if you drag your finger through them they shimmer and tiny bubbles appear. Almost as good as poking fish…. Almost.

I pick up my reel and crank my way to the light, the haze of blue green marking the entrance to the cavern and the exit to the surface and home. I am a poker….. I hang for a few moments before surfacing and there are a few fish I now know…. On an intimate basis….. they will learn.

We stop to pay our bill and pick up the dog…. Another Twix….. STILL no donuts…. And we are on our way home…. A long day…. But sweet dives….

The Blackthorn

I shall go the way of the open sea, to the lands I knew before you came, and the cool ocean breezes shall blow from me the memory of your name.

~Adela Florence Nicolson ~

The 180 foot U.S. Coast Guard cutter Blackthorn, was built at Marine Iron & Shipbuilding Corp., Duluth, Minnesota, on May 21, 1943, launched in July of 1943, and commissioned in March of 1944. She served in the great lakes doing rescue, salvage and breaking ice, off the coast of California and finally at ports along the Gulf of Mexico. She had just been refitted in Tampa and was heading to Galveston, Texas on January 28, 1980 when she collided with the 605 foot freighter S.S. Capricorn just outside the Sunshine Skyway Bridge. The blending of lights from vessels, land and the bridge, inexperienced crew, lack of proper response, wrong side of the channel …… it doesn’t matter what the reason was, that doesn’t change the fact that 23 of the crew of 50 on the Blackthorn were lost that night in 40 foot of water due to an unbelievable chain of events. Such was the impact of this tragic loss that it prompted changes in the Coast Guard including special schooling of officers who would command ships and raised standards for emergency training and equipment. It also fore fronted the improvement of navigational aids in the shipping channel and systematic of tracking vessels in Tampa Bay.

The collision alone did not spell disaster for the Blackthorn, but one of the anchors of the Capricorn pierced their hull, at the crews showers, and dragged the coast Guard cutter along with the huge freighter until the Blackthorn pulled up aside the Capricorn causing slack in the anchor chain which folded under the cutter. Seconds later, when the chain went taunt again, like pulling the string on a top, it rolled the Blackthorn and she sunk in less than 3 minutes trapping 23 crew members inside.

In 2000, Seaman William Flores, was posthumously awarded the Coast Guard Medal for heroism. He had opened the life jacket locker as the Blackthorn capsized, and secured it open with his belt making sure that his shipmates were able to get to the life jackets as the vessel sank. His quick thinking and ingenuity and the time he took on a sinking vessel to complete this selfless act helped save many of the 27 survivors.

The ship was raised but so damaged that it was scuttled on January 28, 1980 just 300 feet from the Sheridan on Pinellas Reef #2. Today, the site remains a memorial to those Coasties who perished that night and a coast Guard flag “flies” at the wreckage and a yearly memorial service still takes place.

Topside, Dave is having computer troubles and opts to join another group for this dive. Mr. Bravo and I ready to dive and with a grace few others will ever know, I launch myself, like a big ole cannonball into the warm green swells.

We drift down onto the broken portions of the Blackthorn and begin our dive. She sits broken and turtled on the sea floor, covered in life from the sea bottom. There are not as many moon jellies here but swarms of bait fish still dart about and the ever watchful barracuda eye us like rent-a-cops at the mall.

A portion of the hull has given way and you can slide in and hover with the cool kids as they eye you with distrust. If you ask me, I think they hang in here and have a little toke outside of the prying eyes of ‘cuda gendarmes. That’s what I think…

We swim all about checking the nooks and crannies as fish swim freely all about. We head out into the sand to look and come across some oversized pipes. Shining my light inside all I see is Jens shining his light and waving from the other side. No one is home.

We head back to the anchor line where there are fish in need of petting and poking flitted in and about. Black sea urchins beckoned to be decorated with small shells. So much to do, so little time.

It is unfortunate that we missed the loggerhead turtle that was seen by other divers, but it was still a great dive and I mused as I made my way back to the boat how different yet the same this Florida diving could be.

As I surface I grab the tag line and as I pull my way over to the ladder, I remove one fin and place the spring strap over my hand and as I reach the ladder I pull back the spring on my second fin. Two large swells pass under the boat and the ladder bucks beneath me and I reach to hold my unsecured fin…. But I have a bad feeling….. a real bad feeling…… and before the next swell comes through I toss my spring strap and only my spring strap on the dive platform…… and then bang….. I am bounced on the ladder once more. Some days……..

The captain offers me a spare fin to go retrieve it but Tracy slips into her gear and steps off the back of the boat….. thank God for heavy fins….. straight down and in less than a minute she is back…. Fin in hand. Thank you Tracy, thanks.

The ride in is a pleasure. As all the men folk sit huddled beneath the canopy, trying to keep warm and dry, Tracy, Heidi and I sit near the transom drowned and drenched with the proliferation of waves and water clearing the gunwales of the boat. We make the best of it, laughing with each drenching. There is not much else you can do. We talked, and laughed, and rested and contemplated warm, dry land.

 

As we cleared the pass I looked back and it was like a crazy movie….. boats of every size, shape and color were heading in behind us. It looked like we were being chased….. boats going in and out, coming up port and starboard, huge cabin cruisers on our stern, jet skis zipping across our bow……. A traffic jam on the water. Expertly maneuvered through by our illustrious captain and safely tucked into our slip at the dock we unload and head home…..

There are more places like this out there…. There are….. I want to dive them…. I really do.

 

The Sheridan

Far across the ocean,
Far across the sea,
A faithful jelly doughnut
Is waiting just for me.

Its sugar shines with longing,
Its jelly glows with tears;
My doughnut has been waiting there
For twenty-seven years.

O faithful jelly doughnut,
I beg you don't despair!
My teeth are here with me, but
My heart is with you there.

And I will cross the ocean,
And I will cross the sea,
And I will crush you to my lips.
And make you one with me.

~Dennis Lee~

Excitement was in the air, a wreck dive, a real wreck dive in the Gulf and I was going. It is hard to explain why I feel the way I do, but wreck diving is special to me.

To know the history, no matter how slight, to see the remains and put it whole again in your mind….they become real and fire the imagination and feed the soul. Real people walked her decks, events played out below her decks, tragedy and history, stories and sights sometimes beyond the imagination. And finally they rest on the ocean floor and sea urchins walk the decks, large fish hold court in the empty holds, barracuda circle the broken rails and feed upon small fish trying so hard just to survive. And creatures, ones others only get to imagine, lay hidden among the nooks and crannies just waiting to be found as these once proud ships melt slowly into the oceans floor. I love these dives.

Fall, or at least Florida’s version, has arrived and as I drive in the early morning hours towards the marina I see … green. No changing leaves on the trees to shades of rust and brown, the yellows and reds of chrysanthemums do not dot the sleepy yards, no new palette of color to herald in the change of seasons and passing of time. I miss this.

But my mind changes focus as I approach the dock for Tanks A Lot and the Cantankerous. I am diving, a real wreck, and Jonny is bringing donuts….. and coffee….. and familiar faces will be on the boat….. and there will be donuts….. did I mention the donuts?

As I load my gear onboard I call out morning greetings to MissD and Captain Mike and Captain Heidi. Bob and Tracey arrive with their students for the day. There are new faces, Verne and Javier, soon to become new friends. And then Dave pulls in with his new Nitrox cert….. but no donuts. Hmmmm. No donuts, no cookies, no tic tacs, no gum….just a nitrox cert. Hmmmm.
Finally Jonny arrives….with coffee….. and donuts….. boston creme donuts….. they have no holes…. donut holes are such a waste of space….. life is good….. let the day begin!

We all climb aboard and Captain Mike takes our picture, takes several actually. I am still somewhat shy being new to the group and hang back a bit, but I think he got me in one of them. We will see.

The ride out is a long one, 2 hours and as we lose sight of the shoreline conversations turn to diving and dives past. The time passes quickly, donuts are eaten and soon we are approaching our first site…… the Sheridan.

In 1951, Ira S. Bushey & Sons, Inc., of Brooklyn, built a 180ft tugboat, the D. T. Sheridan. For 35 years she moved barge and boat and finally, based out of Tampa in her final years, her job included hauling barges to New Orleans and the Caribbean. As sleeker, stronger and more fuel efficient barges moved in to take her place she sat for several years in a shipyard before being donated to the Pinellas County Artificial Reef Program.

On November 17, 1986, she was towed 20 miles out off of Clearwater, to Pinellas Reef #2, and sunk, without the usual fanfare of blowing the holds, by simply opening her valves. She came to rest upright and intact with her propeller in the sand at 80 fsw. This reef program uses a mix of materials shapes to provide the most diverse habitats and you will find the Sheridan surrounded with an array of tires and cement culverts which add its diversity of sea life.

Jonny, Meg and myself once again joined forces, like the 3 musketeers of diving, or maybe not, were Moe, Larry and Curly musketeers? Anyway, at their urging I quickly joined them on the wet side of the boat and we were on our way down to a fish pokey time on the Sheridan.

The water was 84 F and while visibility was in the 80 foot or so range, the water had a slight green tint to it. Moon jellies are flat jelly fish resembling both a sand dollar with their teardrop center markings and a round table set with a centerpiece and fringed cloth. They are clear in color and the dozens that floated round the wreck gracefully flapped their “fringed” edges in unison as if being blown by a sudden fall breeze. A few small sea nettles made their way round near the anchor line and large shiny barracuda circled round as we made our way through throngs of small baitfish.

The Sheridan sat, as promised, the lone prop lying half buried in the sand while the rest of the tug sits upright though slightly off kilter as if listing to with the swells above.

Bait fish swarmed the upper structures and I find it ever amazing that you can swim through hundreds of them and never get bumped. Why weren’t people blessed with such agility. I can’t walk through a near empty Publix without someone bouncing off of me.

As we make our way round the structure I am antsy to see inside. I imagine the crew scurrying along the narrow walkways flanking the wheelhouse and swells of water clearing the gunwales as the lone propeller spins its way round moving tug and barge forward through the water. I am antsy to see inside, imaging the crew living and working on this spartan workhorse of a vessel. As Jens and Dave peek in porthole shaped openings I duck into a doorway to have a peek myself. I am in a small barren room with another doorway ahead, through that opening I can see ambient light and move forward figuring to poke about and emerge the far end right next to my dive buddies.

Who but I could choose to explore….. the head. Yes, through that tantalizing opening was a small narrow room, barely wide enough for a swarthy broad shouldered mate with 5 o’clock shadow covering his strong square jaw to turn both ways. And there filling the small narrow alcove of this space was ….intact porcelain. A potty, sans seat, bolted securely to the deck and harboring naught but small coral, sponge and an errant tiny fish thank goodness. And through that second door, another small room with the sink, long since fallen from its berth on the wall, laying haphazardly on the floor. I need not use my imagination here a minute longer and exited the doorway meeting my own crew and moving on with our dive.

A few yards off in the sand I come across an anchor….a gift for the captain!!! A rescue and salvage!!! But alas, while there is little to no growth on the anchor, but the chain and rope hold a whole new neighborhood in the making. While they are relocated a few feet, they remain below the water. Another time I will surface bearing gifts. It will happen…..it will happen.

MissD made a great find along one of the outer stairways….. a small octopus blended in almost perfectly and inching his way along. How very cool. And Captain Heidi led me to the hiding place of a scorpion fish….. absolutely amazing…… so much to see.

Jens and I dropped down in the hold, two levels to the bottom and….. as I spun in a circle looking for a place to go, to get out of the way, Jens who was patiently hovering just above my head got tired of waiting and squeezed in past me and circled also….. nowhere to go. Oh well…This must have been the engine hold, the oil run engine long ago removed. And so we make our way out and onto the line and up to water’s surface.

Our next stop is just 100 yards away, the U.S.C.G. Blackthorn.