My soul is full of longing
For the secret of the sea,
And the heart of the great ocean
Sends a thrilling pulse through me.
~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow~
The Gulf of Mexico lies just outside my door….. but it isn’t the ocean, it isn’t the sea, it isn’t the same. I drove through the night and into the next day and then drove some more. My car packed high with the jumble of last minute packing. This was a last minute trip, very last minute, planned on a few hours notice; but the first things in the car were tanks and dive gear. I might not have planned this trip but I knew just what I was doing.
I still dive, but not the wrecks. There are no wrecks near my new house, not as I know them. I dive caves, with wet rocks and little blind critters. Tall rocks and tiny holes, fossils and clear blue waters, majestic rooms and surprising colors appearing at the turn of a corner…. It just isn’t the same. My first love is the cool green waters filled with wooden ribs jutting from the sand and hidey holes stuffed with treasures.
I contacted the good captain and asked if my spot was still available and his answer caused a large smile to cross my face. He said I could even choose our destination…. that made me chuckle. We all know the process of choosing the site with this crew; I couldn’t wait to see where “I chose”.
The morning started out in a blur. An early alarm and a frantic collection of gear scattered about a strange house where I had no spaces that were just my own. I begin my trek down the parkway and the marina is not in my GPS; my smart phone was stymied for an address, my address book having only home phones. Really? Really? And that black bag I passed as I ran out the door with my coffee….that was my regulator bag. I am now consigned to being mate for a day. But I will be on the ocean and they might even let me bring the boat around to pick up the buoy. No…. that wasn’t going to happen, I am pretty sure my last navigational attempt was still permanently imprinted in their brains. Oh well.
As I boarded carrying just doughnuts and coffee, four faces looked at me blankly. They took off for my car hauling tanks and gear. There was an extra regulator among them, I was diving.
We set out from the marina with swells and a bit of bump but I hardly noticed. Catching up on people and news, the salt smell and familiar sights, I was just soaking them in. We cleared the inlet and the seas began to calm and now the fun began.
We were five this morning. Captain Howard, Jack, John and a new face in the group, Jim. Where to go…. Hmmmm. A notebook opened and the little black book I remembered so fondly lay there tucked between the pages. Sites were bandied about, the Harry Rush? The West Ridge, south of the East Ridge and next to the North? The ridge that was actually a barge or the barge that was actually a ridge? A crane or half a crane, or maybe the submarine that was actually a barge or the barge that was 12 minutes from a wreck. Wood or metal, north or south, so many choices. I smiled and sat back and waited to hear where “I would choose”. I had no doubt I would choose well.
I can’t tell you where we went, if I told I would be made to walk the plank. Or worse…. But I can tell you, as usual with this crew, the names only makes sense to a scant few people in the world and I am not one of them.
I sat geared up on the gunwale, anticipating what was to come. It has been too long, and thoughts raced through my head like a child on Christmas morning. With a Jersey Roll and a big grin on my face I splashed and I laughed. So good to be back, so good; still laughing I rolled completely around before surfacing. A quick thumb and a purge and I slipped below the surface. The water was just as I had remembered it, cool and dark with bit of green haze. I kicked for the anchor line and savored my descent, slowly floating deeper. A light particulate dotted the water and a thermocline at 30 fsw quickly cooled things down; the haze thickened and I wasn’t sure how much farther I would need to drop when the relief of wooden ribs broke into sight.
I tied in a reel and wasn’t sure what to do first. Poking a fish was high on the list and I headed for a jumble of wreckage and began to terrorize some unsuspecting sea bass and black fish. Tails and fins flying, they quickly cleared out and I moved on. Small light blue starfish dotted the sand and large empty clam shells wedged along a row of timber jutting from sea floor. A lone moon snail shell lay in the sand off to the side and I slipped it in my pocket to add to my shell bucket. As I swam my eye caught a familiar mottling in the sand and I smiled. A large dinner plate outline began to appear and I swear…. It blinked! This one was too large to pass up and I do not spear. I finned on past as if nothing were amiss and headed for the blurry outline of a dive light ahead. With a quick flick of my own light beam I caught Jacks attention and… he waved. Jeesh, with a quick flick of my hand I called him over and he followed me to where my friend was still lying hidden among the grains of sand. One quick point down was all that was necessary and I swam off to explore some more as Jack pulled him from his spear.
Sea robbins scurried hovering close to the sea floor, fins spread on each side like airplane wings, and eel pouts gingerly emerged from their holes to see who was rummaging about. They don’t like to be poked. I followed the length of the wreckage and back before heading up the line.
As I passed from cool to warm water, I slowed and took my place on the line to hang for a few minutes in the warmth before surfacing.
As we moved off, the coolers were already beginning to fill and the sea layed flatter and a feeling of calm settled in.
Our next site was a new one for me. There are so many I haven’t seen it wasn’t hard. I planned on going off in the sand and digging, but even the best laid plans can be derailed.
It took some maneuvering for the anchor to catch and as the others played the anchor along the bottom looking to snag a piece of wreck, I sat with chin on arms staring dreamily over the side. It was different here. Dark and clear, I could see the line reaching down into the water at least 30 feet and I waited to splash in.
With a knee on the side I unceremoniously slipped into the water. Okay, I made a splash… just a little one, but I love that feeling when you leave the solid footing of the boat and fall through the air those few seconds before being engulfed by the water. And the water was warm, warmer than the first site and hundreds of small jellyfish paraded past on the currents. As I hit 30fsw I anticipated the cool water but it wasn’t there. Nor at 35 or 40…. Hmmmm. At 50 feet it hit and hit hard. Not quite the ice cream headache of a winter dive but the almost 20 degree drop in temperature got my attention and I stopped for a moment to orient.
The water took on a thick hazy hue and the jellyfish had disappeared, opting for the much warmer waters above and at about 80fsw the wreck came into view, growing larger as I slowly dropped down. A wall of ribs, the sides collapsed in giving the impression of decking, a row of hidey holes lined one after the other stretching out into the sand. Sea robbins gliding along the floor, eel pout slithering betwixt the timbers and ling cod bustling between them all (they don’t like to be poked either). Small white sand dollars lay scattered and I looked for the soft brown texture of live ones, but they were not to be found. A ball of 20 or so of those light blue starfish lay in the open with two or three more on the sand surrounding them, like they were waiting their turn to jump in and join their friends. I was about to help one of the stragglers join the gang when it occurred to me I should give them their privacy and moved along. Hundreds of empty skate egg casing carpeted sections of the wreckage and the relief ranged from a few inches to 8 or 9 feet.
The small holes called out and I looked in the first seeing a scrawny set of claws. To the left was some fallen planking and I tugged at it, sure it would give; but only a small piece, softened by the water and rotted by time broke off in my hand. I moved along and up over some timbers, about to catch hold of a passing fish tail when I again saw the outline take shape in the sand below. He gave the slightest of flutters and settled back in. Just past him was the slightest of movements and I peaked over the edge. Antennae…. Big antennae, attached to claws that looked like Popeye arms, arms so big they didn’t fit in the hole. And a mound of sand in the hole next to that and in the next one.... And me with no goody bag this time down.
I collected several shells and began marking the holes to return to before going up. One hand for a lobster, one for the line…. Works for me.
I turned and signaled an approaching diver, Jim, who was there with his camera. He waved and came over and took some footage of Popeye before moving on. I then swam out about 20 yards before running into Captain Howard. What the heck…. A few shakes of my light and he looks up and…… waves. Really? What is with the waving with these guys? I make the international sign for large fish and lobster which to anyone but a diver looks like I am describing a guy playing the accordion, wearing tiny finger cymbals and King Kong is behind him, but Howard knows what I mean and quickly follows. As we approach my row of shells laid neatly out I point down at my flat little friend who has not moved. He is quickly dispatched and the wiggling antennae beyond him and meaning of the shells does not go unnoticed.
I move towards the line, my job here is done and the surface is calling. Again at 50 fsw the water warms and the jelly fish return. The water is bath warm and I could hang here forever watching the show of soft white bodies slowly undulating past but too soon it is time.
On board the coolers are full with lobster and fish, a small dead eye soaks in the mask bucket and we debate whether we can see shore from where we are or if we are just seeing other boats anchored in the distance. The good humored banter of friends on the water, the gentle rocking of the boat and the tired ache of a good day in the water…. Life is good.