They say that nobody is perfect. Then they tell you practice makes perfect. I wish they'd make up their minds. ~Wilt Chamberlain
I pick up my bottle and reel at the sign and slowly start to wind my way out.
I am again meeting Jim Wyatt at Ginnie and hope to actually get a dive in this time. I will be diving wet as my dive yesterday resulted in 2 inches of water in my new dry suit. I just can’t win.
We gear up and move on down the steps into the water. Blue gills are abundant in the spring run and a lone turtle swims near the far steps, the water is clear and patches of blue in a plethora of shades dot the spring run as we set ourselves for the dive.
The dive plan is once again to enter the eye and jump off at the Hill 400; popular little plan apparently. This time I am running the reel and as Murphy loves his time with me, there is already a line going in taking the best points and course on the way in.
I find a small spot, smooth with wear and make several attempts to tie on before being rewarded with a good hold. My secondary is again slipping and sliding and as I move on it slides off once more. So frustrating. I try to make my way down not crossing or hindering the line already there but with my tanks above me and my O2 bottle below I am constantly catching on the rocks as I move slowly downward. Battling to squeeze my tanks and my butt through the narrowing rock spaces, the flow steadily does its best to push me back out. I struggle to find holds for the line and keep moving forward while and the line lets loose from several moorings and is caught in the waters flow and wraps itself around the regulator and gauge on my bottle. As I pull the line free, I loosen the gauge and regulator from their respective spots and this loosening seems to invite more line to tangle itself around. By the time I reach the Reaper sign I need to check my air, the idea that I may have hit thirds in my struggles does not seem so farfetched to me.
We head up and into the flow making our way back in the cave. I am doing better, this trip; I have only a small knick in my thumb from pulling on the limestone rock instead of the multi-finger carnage of previous trips, and I again glide on through the Lips, no longer my nemesis.
I tie in the jump at the Hill 400 and we make our way back once more marveling at the changing cave before us. With no training to distract me, I can take in the subtle changes of the cave and peek in places I previously passed up while locked in concentration.
We return along the same route we followed in and I begin to recognize the landscape and anticipate the twists and turns to come; the mental map of the gold line slowly taking hold in my mind. This is what I had been missing, the familiarity and mental image of the common parts of the cave that give perspective to where you are and where you are going. For all my frustration, there has been progress.
I pick up my bottle and reel at the sign and slowly start to wind my way out.
Once back on land, Jim packs up to leave and my phone has a message that Barbara isn’t feeling well. We will cancel our dive and meet for dinner. I feel badly for her but will use the free time to master my floating line, just laying line in and reeling it back out a few times before getting fills and readying for dives in the morning.
My last text to Jim….. “Where are you when I am laying line a girl can be proud of?”
There is progress to be made and I am making it.