Scuba diving is very much a black and white world in terms of the laws and rules one must abide by. It comes down to clear-cut physics. If the laws are broken, severe penalties are exacted, including paralysis or even death. ~ CARLOS EYLES, The Blue Edge

I am pretty sure if I forget my fins again I risk paralysis or even death….it’s kind of a given….but I am getting ahead of myself…..

My time in Florida is fast approaching and it appears that I might need additional supervised time on my doubles before taking them for a spin down there. After watching the weather forecasts the weekend didn’t hold much promise but we are giving it a try. Round Two in the Back Bay with my new 3442 lb doubles.

It appears that winter has finally arrived and we have been the lucky recipients of multiple days of weather in the 30’s although we have thus far avoided any snow. Under a cover of gray skies we are in the Belmar marina parking lot assembling or gear and pulling on our assorted layers of insulation before donning our drysuits.

I have my tanks fully assembled and leaning on the seawall while I pull on the last of my wool socks and stuff my feet into my suit. Mark already has his on and is setting up his tank. I sigh as I realize that I have left my bungee necklace on my pony bottle and my toolbox with the extra bungee cord in the garage. Oh well, will have to be inventive here.

I rub some sea gunk into my mask and rinse with the last of my water bottle and then lay out my gloves and hood beside my tank and check my hose routing to see if I can get it to lay better. One quick turn of my valves to ensure they are on, tap a little air in my wing and I am ready to go…maybe. Where are my fins? Think Cheryl…. Think . I see them…. I see them very clearly hanging in my garage, never making it to the load up pile having been distracted by looking for additional weights and “discussing” the difference between putting 10 or 15 lbs in my weight pockets. Ohhh….

As I inform Mark we will not be diving just yet, I can see “the look” cross his face as he immediately starts loading the tanks back in the truck, “severe penalties are to be exacted, including paralysis or even death.”

Wearing our drysuits and long underwear we head on over to the dive shop and grab a set of loaner fins and head back to the marina parking lot. Setting up our tanks one final time before going in we are joined by more divers, Angela, Scott and a third whose name I can’t remember, sorry. We weren’t the only ones with the idea of jumping in to test out equipment.

We walk into the water and swim out towards the dock where we lift our inflator hoses, dump our air and slide silently beneath the water arriving on the bottom in a huge puff of silt. A few taps of air to get me off the bottom and I am on my way. It isn’t pretty but I have moved the bands up some and am not fighting the face plant any longer. With enough weight I am not stressing the floating issue either. Trim however is simply another story. I was trying my best to move myself in the water column with breaths of air and only occasionally succeeding. This is going to take some work.

I still bounced off the bottom a few times and I still had to work my way out of my cloud of silt to read my gauges but I eventually felt confident enough to start poking the tiny crabs scurrying through the water and box a round or two with the larger ones. Rounding out the wildlife for this dive were quite a few starfish spread out along our route and numerous hermit crabs half buried in the sand. I even pulled out my compass to get my bearings.....who am I kidding......I used it to clock a big crab who was threatening me with his claws....

The water was a fairly clear 42F with about 5-7 in visibility anywhere not near me, but the surface swim back to shore was killer. I was definitely chilled by the time I got in.

Doubles..... Take Two

Scuba diving is very much a black and white world in terms of the laws and rules one must abide by. It comes down to clear-cut physics. If the laws are broken, severe penalties are exacted, including paralysis or even death. ~ CARLOS EYLES, The Blue Edge

I am pretty sure if I forget my fins again I risk paralysis or even death….it’s kind of a given….but I am getting ahead of myself…..

My time in Florida is fast approaching and it appears that I might need additional supervised time on my doubles before taking them for a spin down there. After watching the weather forecasts the weekend didn’t hold much promise but we are giving it a try. Round Two in the Back Bay with my new 3442 lb doubles.

It appears that winter has finally arrived and we have been the lucky recipients of multiple days of weather in the 30’s although we have thus far avoided any snow. Under a cover of gray skies we are in the Belmar marina parking lot assembling or gear and pulling on our assorted layers of insulation before donning our drysuits.

I have my tanks fully assembled and leaning on the seawall while I pull on the last of my wool socks and stuff my feet into my suit. Mark already has his on and is setting up his tank. I sigh as I realize that I have left my bungee necklace on my pony bottle and my toolbox with the extra bungee cord in the garage. Oh well, will have to be inventive here.

I rub some sea gunk into my mask and rinse with the last of my water bottle and then lay out my gloves and hood beside my tank and check my hose routing to see if I can get it to lay better. One quick turn of my valves to ensure they are on, tap a little air in my wing and I am ready to go…maybe. Where are my fins? Think Cheryl…. Think . I see them…. I see them very clearly hanging in my garage, never making it to the load up pile having been distracted by looking for additional weights and “discussing” the difference between putting 10 or 15 lbs in my weight pockets. Ohhh….

As I inform Mark we will not be diving just yet, I can see “the look” cross his face as he immediately starts loading the tanks back in the truck, “severe penalties are to be exacted, including paralysis or even death.”

Wearing our drysuits and long underwear we head on over to the dive shop and grab a set of loaner fins and head back to the marina parking lot. Setting up our tanks one final time before going in we are joined by more divers, Angela, Scott and a third whose name I can’t remember, sorry. We weren’t the only ones with the idea of jumping in to test out equipment.

We walk into the water and swim out towards the dock where we lift our inflator hoses, dump our air and slide silently beneath the water arriving on the bottom in a huge puff of silt. A few taps of air to get me off the bottom and I am on my way. It isn’t pretty but I have moved the bands up some and am not fighting the face plant any longer. With enough weight I am not stressing the floating issue either. Trim however is simply another story. I was trying my best to move myself in the water column with breaths of air and only occasionally succeeding. This is going to take some work.

I still bounced off the bottom a few times and I still had to work my way out of my cloud of silt to read my gauges but I eventually felt confident enough to start poking the tiny crabs scurrying through the water and box a round or two with the larger ones. Rounding out the wildlife for this dive were quite a few starfish spread out along our route and numerous hermit crabs half buried in the sand. I even pulled out my compass to get my bearings.....who am I kidding......I used it to clock a big crab who was threatening me with his claws....

The water was a fairly clear 42F with about 5-7 in visibility anywhere not near me, but the surface swim back to shore was killer. I was definitely chilled by the time I got in.

The Glory Wreck

There are strange things done in the midnight sun

By the men who moil for gold;

The Arctic trails have their secret tales

That would make your blood run cold;

The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,

But the queerest they ever did see

Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge

I cremated Sam McGee.
“The Cremation of Sam McGee” ~ Robert W. Service

The chosen wreck was the unidentified Glory Wreck, also known as the Gloria and some believe it to be the Kennebec while others say the Lake Frampton. Heck, I thought I had not been on it before and that proved to be wrong also…..

The "Glory Wreck", at 70 fsw, is a twisted mass of hull plates and steel spread over a wide area on a sandy bottom and there are usually artifacts and lobsters found.

She is possibly the remains of the Kennebec, a freighter named after a county and river in Maine which sank June 18, 1921, after springing a leak.

Or she might be the Lake Frampton, a tanker, which sank after a collision with the steamship the SS Comus on July 12, 1920.

Since there was no GPS back then, until the telltale artifact is discovered we will not know.
The night before, we watched the forecast as it was in a state of constant change and awoke in the morning to…..dark. It is dark at 5:30AM! By the time we arrived at the dock, the sun was peaking out and it was 50F and the start of a promising day. Captain Bill arrived bundled up like Sir Edmund Hillary and welcoming divers as only he can, and I was reminded why I enjoy diving this boat.

The Captain, Mark and I were joined by Brandon, whose voice reminds me of…nevermind, and Stefan, and spear fishing Bill, who I have dived from the Seazure with before. We loaded onboard and prepared for the ride out. The Seazure is quick, very quick and as we left the bay the swells built up and for a moment we bounced from the top of one to the other. Captain Bill slowed us down a bit and smoothed out the ride and we still quickly arrived at the dive site.

The air was warming up and the seas had rolling swells with wide troughs between them. The top layer of water was clear and the diving looked very promising. Brandon had answered a barrage of questions on his new rebreather on the ride out and he now readied to drop down and tie us in. While we waited the captain spotted a whale off of the bow, surfacing and spouting a huge stream of water. He disappeared again below the surface and a few minutes later the bottle was up and we were gearing to drop in.

I gave Captain Bill a bag of pistachios to keep him busy and not raiding our coolers as he often threatens to do when left alone topside and then followed Marks lead on the knee drop over the side. While I did it, I can tell you it involved neither grace nor agility.

We headed on down the line and arrived to find 10-15 feet of visibility which was a welcome sight considering the amount of rain and storming it had done the day before. Mark tied off his reel and we headed on out, first following a line of debris which quickly dead ended and then moving out along the boiler s. Tucked inside we could see several reasonably sized tautog and sea bass swimming about. As we neared the end of the boilers the fish became noticeably smaller in size and there were but a few starfish scattered about. While the water was still around 44F, you could tell it was winter and a good portion of the sea life was off vacationing in Boca for the winter.

We turned around and at the tie in there was Bills spear gun, planted in the sand ready to be retrieved on the way up the line. We headed on out in the other direction and came across several broken and abandoned traps with no locals errantly trapped inside and the wreck provided a fairly intact portion with some wide openings and lots of peekholes to look in.

All through the dive there had been a strong surge around the wreckage and by this time it was taking its toll on our energy level and was noticeable in our air supply so we turned the dive and headed on up before the cold caught up with us too. During our hang, Mark kept motioning to listen as he thought he heard the whales off in the distance. I had busied myself watching a purge of bubbles coming up from below us and really wasn’t paying enough attention to say.

As each diver arrived topside, they had their wreck story to tell. Bill had a problem with the bands on his gun and abandoned it to poke around for lobster, Stephan found himself some ships hardware, Brandon did a marathon dive and we were the sightseers reporting back the sights and condition of the wreck and its landmarks. We ate and laughed, telling jokes and stories and Stephan entertained us with a rousing rendition of the poem “ The Cremation of Sam McGee” replete with dramatic renderings, assorted character voices and accents.

During the surface interval the seas laid down quite a bit to almost flat and although the sun was shining I got chilled and couldn’t loose it. While I was going in for the second dive, I knew it would be a short one.

I rolled over and dropped down and we again headed out, this time checking out the scattered hull plates and some other machinery with rather large gears which looked more like truck tires. The visibility had dropped remarkably and the surge was in full force. I began to really feel the cold and motioned up and we headed on back and up.

At the surface we found the good Captain relaxed and sunning himself on deck. The rest of our group followed quickly behind us and we readied for the ride in. A fine end to the dive season for the Tuna Seazure and just plain hard to believe that it is mid-January.

Captain Bill….See you in March.

Mohawk and the Riggy Barge

There are fish in the sea better than have ever been caught ~ Old Irish saying

As I stood in line to pay for my coffee, I made small talk with the man in front of me.... "Glad it warmed up this morning" and he heartily agreed 35F was much warmer than 16F ..... now that is insane ......

The sun never really came out, it was gray and cold as the last of my gear was loaded on the Lady Godiver. The heater was blasting and we were 5 hearty souls making our way out of Shark River to the Atlantic. There was a bit of a chop in the water and we bounced our way along.

The main bottom finder was not working so with just the smaller one to find our target we opted for the Mohawk for our first dive. This site is so big that although I have been on it more than once, I still haven’t seen it all.

Just as we approached the wreck the errant bottom finder kicked into gear, but we were content with our choice of dives and proceeded to tie in...twice...but with a snug hook we readied to drop in. As usual, I was geared up and ready to go in no time and we rolled over the side into the cool green water.

Freakin ice cream headache cold is more like it!!! Yowser!!! It took a minute but as we descended through the layers of water laden with little stringy thingies it got better and then even the water cleared..... a lot. We arrived on the bottom with 44F water temps and 20-30 foot of visibility. Our only problem was which direction to head out into first.

We were tied in near the boilers and as we headed out I began to spy pieces of truck. Tires mainly, and axels and other discernable pieces. I had not been on this section before and began to look around.

There were not many fish about and the ones that were swimming past us were mostly small with the exception of the ling cod which were huge. This was not going to be a poking kind of day and so I began to peek in and about the tangled wreckage to see what was to be found. And mostly it was pieces of truck. Tires which were slowly melting away in the harsh ocean water made graceful arches along the route. You could easily make out the tread as you passed over top and they were surprisingly soft when you brushed against them. Twisted metal and lopsided stacks of metal plates filled the area. And we peeked all about as we swam.
We looked around for some time before turning to come back and then....there he was...just sitting there....only about a foot long and blending in perfectly with the wreckage, what was it? A lionfish? No, no not that. Ahhh, I know....a monk fish. I circle slightly taking in the sight and I could see him close his eyes and hear his little fish voice saying "Go away! I am invisible". Just as my hand shot out I received the sign. Not the bunt or steal sign, but the distinct and reverberating "Don’t poke that, it bites!!" I considered this for a moment but heeded the warning and would have to move on and settle for grabbing a ling cod by the tail instead.

We reached the line and swam out a bit more. The hydros and aneomes covering the wreckage were all opened up and moving slowly due to the cold and I could actually watch them pull slowly into their tubes like little disappearing bouquets. The cold was starting to make itself known and we headed on up the line. That safety stop was pretty cold and I was glad when it was over. We got onboard and headed for the cabin and some warmth.

No fish came up on this site and no legal lobster were sited either, but Harry did pick up a block of square tiles. These were interesting to see since the hexagonal tiles are what are usually found here.

As the last diver emerged from the water and we sat huddled in the cabin our next site was decided upon and. While we were not blessed with a parting of the clouds overhead, the seas laid down almost flat as we set sail for the Riggy Barge, making the ride pleasurable.

For many years the real name of this big wooden wreck was not known, and it was referred to as the "Rig Barge" or "Riggy Barge". It has since been discovered that is the three-masted schooner barge, the Helen.

Wooden walls protrude from the sand and are easily followed. At one end of the wreck is a large post sticking up all by itself, while at the other end is an interesting collection of machinery. The wreck is popular with lobstermen, whose traps are all around. The traps themselves are interesting since they often contain many other creatures besides lobsters.

We geared up and the cooler of hot water was most welcome, making donning the wet hood and gloves actually manageable. And we dropped into the water curious as to what we would find.

Again we descended through the profusion of thin brown strings only to have the water clear as we came upon the wreck. While the visibility was slightly less here, we still had a solid 20 foot of viz and I can only imagine what it would have been had the sun been shining providing additional ambient light.

The low lying ribs of wood extended out into the sand and we followed them on out. There were tons of little cubbies along the wall of wreckage and in each one was a large sea crab dug in for the winter. I tried dislodging one but he held fast. There were many different starfish scattered about, some spindly, some thick, and lots of fairly large moon snails making their way along the bottom. And there were not as many fish on this wreck as the other. We swam out past the end of the wall and turned to come back.

At the line we swam out in the other direction to see what it had to offer. On this end of the wreck were a line of lobster traps. As we swam past one I looked inside and did a double take. There were a few fish and decent sized lobster moving about but there were a pair of claws laying on the bottom that did not belong to any 3lb lobster….this was MUCH bigger and as I looked closer I saw this one covered the bottom of the trap and the rest of the inhabitants were just climbing over the top of him. Some Lobsterman is going to be very happy when he pulls this trap up.

Mark found some sort of a tool, encrusted with sea life and debated his souvenir, carrying it with him for a bit before deciding to place it back on the wreck. He is currently in the midst of restoring his last find so I guess one artifact at a time is all that fits in his toilet tank. Oh well.

We looked about a bit more and then headed for the line starting to feel the cold of the icy water. As we approached the anchor line I saw a pair of claws sticking out from a cubby and reached in and grabbed. Out I pulled a nice sized lobster, but upon turning it over, I was met with the site of eggs and back my little missy was going. Except that she was really pissed and grabbed hold of the seal on my dry suit. I tried coaxing a bit but she wasn’t letting go and I turned to Mark for a little assistance since I was not looking forward to the resulting flood from ripping the seal in this cold water. A little wrestling match of holding down the errant claw and keeping the lobster aligned while Mark loosened her grip ensued and back she went and we headed on up the line.

Harry was on deck as we arrived and he told the story of a really irate female lobster he left behind. He had a picture of her on his camera…..it was my little missy…..same lobster, same cubby…..we told him of our encounter with her also. No wonder she was so worked up when I grabbed her.

A few minutes later Jim came up and he was not happy. He pulled off his glove and there was the bruise from a female lobster with eggs. A cantankerous little wench that got him as he was putting her back! Our little missy got another one…..guess by now getting grabbed by divers was getting really old. We all had a good laugh and waited for Howard to see if he had a run in with the little girl too.

Howard arrived topside and couldn’t imagine how he had missed her. “Several lobsters were taken” is the word for the trip. Many shorts and eggers were left behind. We headed on in looking at Harrys pictures and telling diving tales as only divers can do.

New Year....New Dives

When I do good I feel good. When I don't do good I don't feel good. ~ Abraham Lincoln

It is New Years Day, a new year, new experiences, new adventures. One down....364 more to go.

I have doubles now. Not one set...but two. Woo Hoo! I am going to see all the sights everyone writes about. The Norness, the Empress of Ireland, the S-5, the Texas Towers. All I have to do is learn to use them. Hmmmmm.

After a hydro, viz and O2 cleaning, 2 sets of regulators, an interesting old school Dive Rite doubles wing, and the STRONG recommendation that I not paint them like I did my pony (that could be a whole nother report), I am ready to begin.

A group dive at L Street in Belmar for New Years Day seemed the perfect time to take them for a test spin. I loaded the dive mobile with everything I thought I might need and some redundant redundancy besides. It looked like I was making a pilgrimage to the Doria not a dive in the back bay, but I was prepared.

Arriving at the beach fashionably late, I prepared to ask questions of the more experienced doubles divers as to what to do next. It was a group effort with much discussion and debate as to the best approach to my first time out. Mark was gracious enough to assemble most of the gear with explanations as to the hows and whys.

As we suited up, the weather was changing to overcast skies and the wind had picked up bringing with it a bit of a chill. But the water was crystal clear and a bit of excitement was in the air. We geared up on the beach side wall and it seemed like I added much more than an extra tank to the mix as I clipped off my gear. Around my neck I wrapped my regulator on a hose so long I could share air through a restriction with a giraffe.

We walked down to the water and waded on in and we were off. I pulled on my fins and did a weight check. And.........nothing happened. I bobbed unceremoniously on the surface like a large neoprene duck. Bob suggested I lift my feet. Wise guy. I was in over my head. He clipped off 2 lbs to me and I tried again. Lets just say he clipped off 2 more lbs and then Mark dropped 3 lbs in my pocket. I was able to kick myself to the bottom and so we continued on out to the docks.

I was not the only one struggling as we unfortunately lost two divers to suit leakage before we headed on down. On my way down, I noted the 5-10 foot visibility which we don’t often get in this area and then arrived at the bottom in a cloud of silt, immediately bringing the viz to Zero.

I had been warned of the inevitable face plant issues and struggled to stay horizontal. My head was being pushed down and my feet were trying desperately to make a break for daylight. I struggled to keep from upending and single handedly depleted the water clarity for 3 nautical miles all around. Trying to maintain some semblance of trim by using breath holds I followed after Mark occasionally hitting patches of clarity which I immediately rectified by loosing trim and banging along the bottom. I still felt light, or maybe it was just the fear of being light, but hard as I tried I lost my way and started floating on up. Mark dropped another 3 lbs in my pocket, no easy feat at this point and we went down again.

Trying to keep the illusion of trim and searching desperately for that sweet spot in buoyancy, while trying to keep my dive buddy in sight, all the while enveloped in a never ending cloud of silt, I continued on. My waist strap was too loose and the tanks shifted slightly from side to side and I bounced off the bottom trying to recenter them on my back. The 7 foot anaconda I was using for a primary hose was having its way with me and I found myself pulling it from side to side like reins in order to turn my head. I was so fearful of being light I hated to pump any air in my wing and dreaded adding any to my suit for warmth. And my left fin must be larger than my right as I kept drifting to the right and Mark kept pushing me back on track. I was quickly becoming frustrated.

I seriously considered selling these tanks at the flea market next month and taking up bowling. My back ached from arching it to keep from burying my head up to my shoulders in the silt and I was getting cold from not adding any air to my suit. I almost gave it up right then and there. I took a deep breath and gave it one last try.

Then....all of a sudden the water would clear and for a few brief moments I could see the last of the sea urchins holding onto the scattered pieces of timber and occasional cinder block. The smallest of crabs were still scurrying about as if they had last minute shopping to do. These were Jersey crabs. You can tell by their attitude. As I bounced off of them they waived their little claws threatening me should I try that again. And at one point Mark tried to guide my hand to a small flounder I didnt see buried in the sand and asking to be poked. He took off just as my fingertips brushed him.

We headed on in after 28 minutes that seemed like a lifetime, they had to seem longer to Mark. I cant thank him enough for his patience although I can do without his new nickname thanks to all the silt I kicked up....Pigpen.

We broke down our gear and I even got my tanks in the truck by myself...it wasn’t pretty, but it was all on my own.

We headed out to Pete and Eldas for a hard earned dinner and beer. I am going to try again......I’ll get it....I hope.

Humboldt Squid and Other Good Things

The Humboldt Squid (Dosidicus gigas), also known as Jumbo Squid, Jumbo Flying Squid, or Diablo Rojo (Red Devil), is a large, aggressive predatory squid found in the waters of the Humboldt Current in the Eastern Pacific Ocean. They are most commonly found at depths of 200-700 meters (600 to 2300 feet), from Tierra del Fuego to California. Recent findings suggest the range of this species is spreading north into the waters of Oregon, Washington, British Columbia and Alaska ~ Wikpedia

We got the best of the days this weekend for our New Years Dive. We held our breath and watched the weather reports and waited...... Morning arrived as did my ride. Time is a relative thing ....we weren’t late. That is a good thing. 9AM is a civilized time to set sail.

The parking lot at the Belmar Marina is in the midst of repair and refurbishing. Unfortunately some precious parking spaces have been lost to the beautification and improvement process. Take note for next year.

My first Jersey boat dive of this year was on the Stingray, so it is apropos that my last one should be. There were seven of us and the good Captain this morning, Mark and myself, Steve (SteveR), Ernie (theRookman), Bob (PIR8), Jeff, and Sean (Martini), ready for whatever was in store for us. There was some frost this morning, and the skies were a bit gray but the heater was roaring and the Scuba Gods smiled on us with near flat seas and occasional wide troughed roller. We were headed for the Northeast Sailor. This site was on my list of places to revisit since my dive there earlier in the season was cut short. These are all good things.

This wreck lies in 75 feet of water and is the remains of an unknown wooden sailing ship. The absence of towing bits is an indicator that this was probably not a schooner barge. Low lying wreckage remains along with a huge anchor pile and some machinery and boilers. Ernie had predicted 42F water with 15-20 foot viz. I contemplated the calm water and incoming tides as I geared up. My last dive of the year, I was hoping not to be disappointed. I rolled in and came up in a bit of current, swimming like crazy for the line at the back of the boat. Mark followed and we headed on down. There were chunks of particulate in the gray green water as we went down but light was filtering through and as the strobe on the chain came into view I smiled.

Mark tied off a reel and we set out to look about. There were a few issues with the reel and he wrestled with it as I looked about. I had my reel but he was determined and so we continued. We followed some ribs out and looked about and then poked around the chain pile looking in the dents and holes. While filled with swimmy guys, they were all rather small, some barely worth poking. I grabbed an occasional tail or two for fun as we moved along looking about. Steve passed by us with his spear gun in tow just as I spied a nice sized fish tucked into a hole in the chain. I looked up, ready to signal Steve with my light, but he was too far passed, so....................I poked it.

As we continued to look about the reel was still behaving badly and so we turned around to head on up. There was still the occasional starfish lying about, some rather large, and lots of shells and Ernie was wrong. While we had the 15-20 foot visibility, the water temperature was 44 F not 42F. That is a good thing.

On the surface there was no one to greet me at the ladder.....it was a wee bit cold topside and everyone was taking advantage of the heater and I managed a respectable climb up on my own before Ernie came out to help. My first time up this ladder this year I did not fair so well. It wasn’t pretty. As I end the year, I am getting better. And that too is a good thing. We snacked and traded stories on the surface interval. There were many lobster on this wreck but they were all small or females with eggs. The wreck is known for its deep holes and several large sets of claws were tucked waaay back. Unfortunately Bobs suit leaked, he looked like he jumped overboard without it and he was sitting the next dive out.

We headed for our next site, a new one for me, the Spring Lake Wreck, an unidentfied turtled schooner barge named for its proximity to the town of Spring Lake. A buoy had been left on the site from earlier in the year and Ernie went down the line to check things out as we got ready. Just before we were ready to splash in he appeared on the ladder ranting and raving and carrying on. Apparently there was quite the current on the bottom....and the visibility was only 5 feet......and it was cold.....and there were no fish....and the chain moved....and he had a hard time......and there were sharp bars crisscrossing the interior of the wreck..... There were some fish but that was the only redeeming quality of this wreck.... it was the worst dive of his life. Jeesh Ernie...tell us how you really feel.

The seas were picking up and we could see the promised foul weather coming in as we rolled over the side, with Jeff joining us Since Bob was remaining on top. The current was considerably stronger here as Ernie had mentioned and as I swam against it for the line I was having my doubts about making it. I could see me spending my projected 30 minute dive time kicking my heart out and swimming in place. We descended we had to watch for fish hooks caught on the line and unceremoniously arrived on the bottom. Not running a reel, we ran along the side of the wreck looking about and checking the wildlife hiding inside. The metal hull of this barge was slowly disintegrating and left many pieces having rusted and fallen to the sand below and the current was fairly strong so we stayed low to the sand as we moved about. As we swam along I suddenly spotted it. At first it looked odd and I couldn’t imagine what it was, it looked like long tentacles hanging below the ragged edge of the wreck, As we swam it moved down the line of the wreckage and Mark pointed so I knew he saw it too. Before I could move he stuck out his hand and grabbed for it. That’s my boy! I taught him well. We continued along peeking about but never encountered it again. We swam about and I poked at the occasional fish just inside the barge, and rescued two sinkers caught in the debris, and picked up my final shell for the year. While the water temp was just one degree colder we felt it and headed on up.

Our stop on the line was chilly but I took the time to consider the past year of diving and all that I saw and did, even on this last dive of the year. As we arrived on deck we quickly broke down our gear and headed into the warmth of the cabin.

I was telling Ernie about the tentacles we saw . I think it was a squid, maybe a Humboldt Squid, really, it could be. But I saw Mark shake his head. I guess he didn’t think it was a Humboldt, probably thought it was just a regular old Longfin Jersey Squid. Doesn’t matter.....it surely wasn’t just some algae, so it will forever remain in my mind as the giant squid on the Spring Lake Wreck.....this is a good thing....really.

We arrived back at the docks, safe and sound. Not the best of conditions. Not picture perfect dives. Jersey dives, typical Jersey dives....you know....the ones we all know and love. And that is a good thing.

New Jersey Museum of Maritime History

In anticipation of the Nor’easter a comin’...... we decided to visit the New Jersey Museum of Maritime History in Beach Haven, and I am very glad we did.
We spent a good part of the early afternoon browsing through the two floors of exhibits.

At the museums front entrance lies a huge anchor and chain, the possible weight of which we wondered out loud about as we climbed the steps to the front door. Upon entering the museum, you are immediately met by floor to ceiling exhibits covering all the walls and in cases and on tables everywhere you look.

I believe it is a 13 lb lobster that you immediately spy as you enter, and as much as I would love to claim victory over one of these monsters, I will admit, especially since things look measurably larger under water, I might.....just might now...not poke one of these. Awww ..... who am I kidding, I would probably be sorry, but I would do it.

To the right of the entrance is an antique Navy diving suit. The forerunner of today’s dry suits. There are lead weights covering the toes to keep you from having floaty feet. I have enough trouble climbing a boat ladder without lead weights on my feet that could kick a hole right through the boat. And just past that is a lighted display of hand painted slides of maritime themed pictures. They are absolutely intriguing.

As you walk down the hallway, it is lined with pictures and little comments on myriads of New Jersey wrecks hung in alphabetical order. To see these and be able to say, “Hey I dove on that one!“ makes your time here fly by.

From there you enter a large room with floor to ceiling pictures and antique postcards of local towns and follow their development into what they are today. I could not imagine trying to swim in some of the costumes displayed here.

In another room are more pictures of maritime rescues and local coastguard stations and storm devastation. While we were there a video was playing showing the local coastline being devastated by storms from the late twenties to the one in the sixties when “the ocean and the bay met” . There was some awesome footage on this video showing the power of these storms that have pounded our coastline with enough force that one time it beached a Navy battleship.

There is a huge display on the Morrow Castle catastrophe that brings a very personal side to the story to your mind and replaces the fact that you just knew that she burned and sank. From the beginning where they show you the poster advertising 10 and 20 day cruises for $200.00 and bills showing charges to rooms for 12 beers at a cost of $1.20, you look to see what other little treasures are among the hundreds of items spread before you. And then the story progresses to pictures of the fire and rescues. Showing the actual victims being pulled onto the beach while people try to revive them. Of children who have lost their entire family sitting with blank stares waiting for someone to claim them. It is a very powerful exhibit.

You then wind your way upstairs where you are greeted by a library of maritime reference books, a lending library and computer data base. There are several areas to sit and browse with tables and chairs, desks and a conversations pit of comfy stuffed furniture.

As you walk along up here you still have to remember to look up as things are everywhere. There are so many portholes on display that you find it hard to believe there are any left in the ocean. If you have never been lucky enough to find your own, you come away with a respect for how heavy these are and how thick the glass in them is
There is a display on the Andrea Doria and on this visit a video documentary on the sinking was playing. There are personal items and china and several cases of artifacts as your read your way along the display. Attached to the walls and ceiling are lights and bells and pieces of various ships, many of which are on loan from divers and local people through out the state.

There are display cases with recovered artifacts from dozens of wrecks and displays of antique navigational tools and even a cannon. Antique logs of shipwrecks and letters and articles and personal pictures that bring the history to life. Just a never ending display.

In one small alcove is display of the submarine S-5 which was visited by a group of local divers this summer. Center of the display is the recovered coffee urn from the mess room of the sub. I could not imagine swimming out of that sub dragging this piece behind me.

There is another room dedicated to local wildlife and displays of different shells and several areas where you can see they are still a work in progress. The building has been lovingly restored and the huge amounts of natural light make walking through a pleasure. The displays are varied from sea life to local history and covering rescues and diving. Admittance is free and donations are accepted. I am positive you can revisit this place several times and still find something new or something you missed every time. I know I will be back.

http://www.museumofnjmh.com/photographs.html The pictures are from the website, visit it to see more and visit the museum to see it all.

The Locomotives and the Macedonia

I could never stay long enough on the shore. The tang of the untainted, fresh and free sea air. Was like a cool, quieting thought, and the shells and pebbles and the seaweed with tiny living creatures attached to it never lost their fascination for me. ~Helen Keller

My friends and family think I am crazy.....it doesn’t help when they ask where I am going...and I say diving....but its winter, what are you going to see?...choo choo trains.... Sometimes diving is hard to explain.

Sometime in the 1850’s, two small locomotives fell into the Atlantic Ocean and landed side by side, about 7 feet apart, upright, in 85 feet of water. They remain upright instead of sinking into the sand because there is a stone ledge not far below the sand forming a solid platform beneath these engines. And there is a Federal Court Order of Protection on these trains and no artifacts may be taken nor is any damaging of the trains allowed. You tie into a sand spike between the two instead of onto their wreckage and diving this with two members of the New Jersey Historical Society gives you some additional insight into the site and the plans to retrieve the trains.

As we readied to dive, Rich G. rolled over first to tie us in. His theory was that with the site being so small there would only be one fish worth taking on the wreck and he was going to get it.

Josh and I readied to follow him. As I geared up Ernie mentioned that other divers referred to me as “Flash“ due to my lightening speed. It is good to be recognized and know some people appreciate me. I did have usual my blonde moments, but must mention that I did have help this time. The gauntlet of my new 5ml gloves does not easily fit over my dry suit arms and I asked for some assistance. Ernie had to call in reinforcements and with Howard braced against the benches with my arm against him and Ernie pushing on the gloves they finally managed to get a recognizable imitation of the gloves on my hands, although they did mention that I might not want to try and run a reel or anything with them on. They then sat me on the gunwale and I rolled over...into the water....and couldn’t kick myself upright.....without fins.... We had worked so hard on the gloves, no one noticed. I climbed back aboard and was assisted into them and rolled in again.

The seas were flat and we dropped down and passed Rich on the line, both times down. About half way down the line Joshes suit started to flood and we surfaced to adjust his zipper before continuing to the bottom and about 20 foot of viz.

While much of the wooden structure of the engineers cabin has rotted away, and the salvageable hardware and the brass has long been removed, as you come upon this unusual sight there is no mistaking that they are trains. While encrusted in a thick growth of barnacles, hydras and anemones, they form a natural encasement of the engine, boilers, wheels and stacks of the engines and a definite outline of a train.

After a swim around each engine you have seen the entire sight. The six spoked wheels still fully intact in the special 2-2-2 (o0o) design of these engines which are center of the wreckage. The boilers and smoke stacks above. The doors to the engine furnaces encrusted over in sea life.

The rear of the engines have the most enormous anemones I have seen. They are impressive and we swam a second circuit to check out the locals. Towards the rear of the engine, just above the last wheel, the wooden cabin is no longer there allowing you to see through to the other side. And sitting in this space, framed by the rest of the engine sat an enormous blackfish, close to 3 feet long. Just hanging out. Josh and I looked at each other, I could not imagine what Rich had speared if he left this guy behind.

We moved on up to the front where the cow catcher grate would be and as we approached, I saw it. It was just a tail and it stuck out about 2 foot, but it was big around and I headed straight for it. I peeked inside and this eel ran the whole width of the train inside and with his head in and his tail out....he begged to be poked. My hand went out and like a shot Josh grabbed it and gave me the international sign for “No Cheryl, we don’t poke these, choose something else.” And he nudged me along just to be sure. For a small site it had some mighty big inhabitants.

We moved on to the second engine and as we poked around we came across two nice sized blackfish in the 5lb range hiding between the spokes of the wheel and the side of the boiler. I swear the one played dead. He just laid on his side and didn’t move like “oops, you don’t want this one...move along“. I took my flashlight and clocked him right on the head. Apparently I didn’t hit him hard enough because as I grabbed him to pull him out he came to and wiggled out of my grasp and wedged himself farther inside the wreckage and out of my reach. I was “thiiis” close.

One more quick look around and up we went, heading right for the heated cabin and a snack. Rich had not gotten a goliath black fish, his reputation as a hunter must have preceded him and the big fish hid in fear while he was there.

Our second dive was to be the Macedonia, a 280 foot freighter sunk in June of 1899 in a collision with the ocean liner Hamilton, in 60 feet of water. It was rammed so hard by the Hamilton that she was wedged 12 feet into the freighter and most of the crew jumped onto the deck of the Hamilton before she broke free and left a gash so huge the freighter sank in half an hour. The Macedonia was owned by the Ward Lines. Sound familiar? She was part of the same fleet as the Mohawk, the second Mohawk, the Morro Castle, the Havana, the Algonquin, the City of Washington......

There was a bit of a surface current here and Ernie tied us in. I was using my new regs and computer for the first time and they were working out well for me, I switched to my trusty 3ml gloves, kitted up and reclaimed my title of Flash as Josh and I splashed in. There was a slight current at depth here and the visibility was about 10 feet with water temps around 48F.

This is really a sweet wreck. All you guys who pass up the chance to dive it because it is only 60 feet deep really are missing out. This is a huge contiguous debris field with impressive boilers and two propellers and all kinds of goodies.

Josh ran a line as we found ourselves jumping back and forth over hull plates looking about. The debris is covered in the usual sea life and there were a large assortment of blackfish begging to be poked with a spear and not a finger. I believe Howard accommodated them. Tucked in among the regular wreckage were several anchors, lost by unwitting fishermen, and a sinker garden where I stopped to harvest a few while Josh adjusted the reel. This is a wreck I could go back to.

Not a bad day on the water........Thank you Captain Howard, well done.....And Ernie great history lesson on the Locomotives....and Rich great suggestion of the Macedonia.....and Josh, my younger better looking dive buddy (his description by the way) (you better duck when you see Mark)we had fun. I will have to do this again.

The Locomotives and the Macedonia

I could never stay long enough on the shore. The tang of the untainted, fresh and free sea air. Was like a cool, quieting thought, and the shells and pebbles and the seaweed with tiny living creatures attached to it never lost their fascination for me. ~Helen Keller

My friends and family think I am crazy.....it doesn’t help when they ask where I am going...and I say diving....but its winter, what are you going to see?...choo choo trains.... Sometimes diving is hard to explain.

Sometime in the 1850’s, two small locomotives fell into the Atlantic Ocean and landed side by side, about 7 feet apart, upright, in 85 feet of water. They remain upright instead of sinking into the sand because there is a stone ledge not far below the sand forming a solid platform beneath these engines. And there is a Federal Court Order of Protection on these trains and no artifacts may be taken nor is any damaging of the trains allowed. You tie into a sand spike between the two instead of onto their wreckage and diving this with two members of the New Jersey Historical Society gives you some additional insight into the site and the plans to retrieve the trains.

As we readied to dive, Rich G. rolled over first to tie us in. His theory was that with the site being so small there would only be one fish worth taking on the wreck and he was going to get it.

Josh and I readied to follow him. As I geared up Ernie mentioned that other divers referred to me as “Flash“ due to my lightening speed. It is good to be recognized and know some people appreciate me. I did have usual my blonde moments, but must mention that I did have help this time. The gauntlet of my new 5ml gloves does not easily fit over my dry suit arms and I asked for some assistance. Ernie had to call in reinforcements and with Howard braced against the benches with my arm against him and Ernie pushing on the gloves they finally managed to get a recognizable imitation of the gloves on my hands, although they did mention that I might not want to try and run a reel or anything with them on. They then sat me on the gunwale and I rolled over...into the water....and couldn’t kick myself upright.....without fins.... We had worked so hard on the gloves, no one noticed. I climbed back aboard and was assisted into them and rolled in again.

The seas were flat and we dropped down and passed Rich on the line, both times down. About half way down the line Joshes suit started to flood and we surfaced to adjust his zipper before continuing to the bottom and about 20 foot of viz.

While much of the wooden structure of the engineers cabin has rotted away, and the salvageable hardware and the brass has long been removed, as you come upon this unusual sight there is no mistaking that they are trains. While encrusted in a thick growth of barnacles, hydras and anemones, they form a natural encasement of the engine, boilers, wheels and stacks of the engines and a definite outline of a train.

After a swim around each engine you have seen the entire sight. The six spoked wheels still fully intact in the special 2-2-2 (o0o) design of these engines which are center of the wreckage. The boilers and smoke stacks above. The doors to the engine furnaces encrusted over in sea life.

The rear of the engines have the most enormous anemones I have seen. They are impressive and we swam a second circuit to check out the locals. Towards the rear of the engine, just above the last wheel, the wooden cabin is no longer there allowing you to see through to the other side. And sitting in this space, framed by the rest of the engine sat an enormous blackfish, close to 3 feet long. Just hanging out. Josh and I looked at each other, I could not imagine what Rich had speared if he left this guy behind.

We moved on up to the front where the cow catcher grate would be and as we approached, I saw it. It was just a tail and it stuck out about 2 foot, but it was big around and I headed straight for it. I peeked inside and this eel ran the whole width of the train inside and with his head in and his tail out....he begged to be poked. My hand went out and like a shot Josh grabbed it and gave me the international sign for “No Cheryl, we don’t poke these, choose something else.” And he nudged me along just to be sure. For a small site it had some mighty big inhabitants.

We moved on to the second engine and as we poked around we came across two nice sized blackfish in the 5lb range hiding between the spokes of the wheel and the side of the boiler. I swear the one played dead. He just laid on his side and didn’t move like “oops, you don’t want this one...move along“. I took my flashlight and clocked him right on the head. Apparently I didn’t hit him hard enough because as I grabbed him to pull him out he came to and wiggled out of my grasp and wedged himself farther inside the wreckage and out of my reach. I was “thiiis” close.

One more quick look around and up we went, heading right for the heated cabin and a snack. Rich had not gotten a goliath black fish, his reputation as a hunter must have preceded him and the big fish hid in fear while he was there.

Our second dive was to be the Macedonia, a 280 foot freighter sunk in June of 1899 in a collision with the ocean liner Hamilton, in 60 feet of water. It was rammed so hard by the Hamilton that she was wedged 12 feet into the freighter and most of the crew jumped onto the deck of the Hamilton before she broke free and left a gash so huge the freighter sank in half an hour. The Macedonia was owned by the Ward Lines. Sound familiar? She was part of the same fleet as the Mohawk, the second Mohawk, the Morro Castle, the Havana, the Algonquin, the City of Washington......

There was a bit of a surface current here and Ernie tied us in. I was using my new regs and computer for the first time and they were working out well for me, I switched to my trusty 3ml gloves, kitted up and reclaimed my title of Flash as Josh and I splashed in. There was a slight current at depth here and the visibility was about 10 feet with water temps around 48F.

This is really a sweet wreck. All you guys who pass up the chance to dive it because it is only 60 feet deep really are missing out. This is a huge contiguous debris field with impressive boilers and two propellers and all kinds of goodies.

Josh ran a line as we found ourselves jumping back and forth over hull plates looking about. The debris is covered in the usual sea life and there were a large assortment of blackfish begging to be poked with a spear and not a finger. I believe Howard accommodated them. Tucked in among the regular wreckage were several anchors, lost by unwitting fishermen, and a sinker garden where I stopped to harvest a few while Josh adjusted the reel. This is a wreck I could go back to.

Not a bad day on the water........Thank you Captain Howard, well done.....And Ernie great history lesson on the Locomotives....and Rich great suggestion of the Macedonia.....and Josh, my younger better looking dive buddy (his description by the way) (you better duck when you see Mark)we had fun. I will have to do this again.

Does my SAC Rate Really Matter?

This SAC rate thing.....could it be over rated?

When I first started diving, I was diligent about writing down numbers, exact numbers, starting tank PSI and ending PSI and bottom time and hang time and then dividing and multiplying and dividing again and then factoring in depth and gear and currents and water temps and then taking into consideration the phase of the moon, the icecream flavor of the month and the price of tea in China.... I would have an exacting SAC rate which I would double check against the online SAC calculator. I still have a multifunction Scientific Texas Instrument calculator in the bottom of my dive bag because of this.

What I found was:
1. I didnt have a bad SAC rate
2. I didnt know any other girl divers to compare my rate to
3. All the guy divers I knew had higher SAC rates
4. Everyone knew girls have better SAC rates than guys and
5. No one cared what my SAC rate was.

I also found that for the diving I was doing.....my SAC rate really didn’t matter in terms of gas management. I was running out of NDL before gas, even with nitrox.

My dive planning was always around run times and NDL and my gas always more than sufficient. Life was good. I went to the bottom, poked the fish, saw the sights, came up and had gas to spare.

I logged my bottom time, my depths and kept up on my weighting, which I still struggle with. Noted what there was to see, which wrecks were best for the lobsters and where the mussels were. But starting and ending PSI slowly gave way to the variety of fish to poke and what was scattered about in the way of debris to put the ship whole again in my minds eye and unusual events. Which conditions of depth, temperature and visibility put the boogeyman at the end of the line and how I dealt with it. Boat ladders, crew and dive buddies. All details.

I always check my starting pressure when I set up my gear, I always check my PSI as I dive, and use it as a gauge of when to stop sightseeing and start back, and I always get back onboard with gas to spare. But I stopped tracking the actual numbers at some point.

Now, I am being called on the carpet for my laxness. I am looking towards doubles and when discussing it with my dive buddy I have been given a list of considerations to take into account as I move forward. My biggest considerations are weight and maneuverability. If I cant carry it, I do not think I should be diving it. So the big question comes down to size. HP 100’s, LP 85’s, or even 74’s are in the running. Hmmmmmm, how do I decide. Apparently, according to “someone”, gas management answers this question.

So, I consider what I want to dive, where I want to dive and how I want to dive it. I then consider how often that will happen.

For the immediate time being I will be diving the recreational limits and upsetting my computer with occasional 10-15 minute deco obligations. Soon...heliox and some of the deeper and more interesting things just outside my door. After that and some experience....advanced deco and more bottom time and a little deeper.....I just am not limited ever.......how do you plan for what you just cannot imagine.

There are so many things out there to see. More than enough under 100 ft to keep me busy the rest of my life, I am sure. But the history draws me. And the stories. And so many of them are right there, right out my back door, and just a little bit deeper than I should go right now. The big boy wrecks out by the canyon and the mudhole.... where the artifacts are found, the scallops are laying about, the big fish swim. The stories of the S-5 and the Texas Towers. I want to dive a submarine, the towers, a wreck with portholes still intact, see where the big fish swim and the octopus live, watch sea lions and dolphins play, see a wreck that hasn’t been dragged by the Coast Guard and pounded by the weather, do a dredging dive and a numbers run and discover something totally new. The things to see and the fish to poke........more than I can imagine....how do you finalize a list like this?

So what is the next question? How big a tank do you need? How do I find this out? Using math and my SAC rate. Jeesh!!!

Does my SAC rate really matter? Get out my trusty calculator and a pencil, then run the dives on V-planner and then figure that if I see a really big shark, or a whale, or I am dragging 100 scallops stuffed in my goody bag and my pockets that my SAC rate is out the window anyway. And in an emergency situation I think my condition would be more than “my heart is all aflutter” ...... so.....

Does my SAC rate really matter or should I figure my tank size on the average for where I want to dive and a little measure of added safety for me and my air hogging buddy. It troubles him that I dont track my air consumption. He cant see how I can choose my tanks without it. I cant see how I can limit myself with all there is out there.

I have no problem admitting...there is so much I dont know, have not seen, cannot imagine...and I promise to keep better track of my air consumption.....but in the end, does my SAC rate define the future of my diving or do I plan my dive around the moment. This wreck..... in these conditions...... using this set of tanks and equipment.....I can visit this long. I think doing the math is a guy thing.