The shoals are there still, the winds howl loud, the rain beats down, the waves burst strong. Some night, in the chill darkness, someone will make a mistake: The sea will show him no mercy. ~ John T. Cunningham
“Lost Tourists on the Jetty” ……. Their very own version of Hide and Seek. Two members played victim and while the rest suited up, they went out among the jetty jacks (long concrete pieces used to protect the end of the jetty. The way they are piled looks like a childs toy jacks) to find a place to hide, simulating a tourist or fisherman falling off the jetty and into the rocks.
As we pulled her up, she was face down and we were attaching her that way to a back board. Upon extricating her we rolled her over and now the fun began. While holding the board we needed to finish strapping her in with straps that were wedged under and around everything and one and now the tide was really coming in and several times we came close to not being able to lift her to safety from the waves rushing in, and water surrounded her face as we worked .
Once out to the water, we found an opening large enough to pull her up through and with support from above we stood the backboard straight up and hauled her to the top of the rocks.
s rocks. With a little assist we all made it up and now we had to get our cargo to shore. Forming a human chain we passed her along until she was safe on land.
This time the victim could not be brought out on the board as it just didn’t fit back through the only way in or out. And so we went to Plan B. Stabilize and bring out without the back board and then board him up and raise him out.
Dive Team Training
It was windy…….very windy. And cold. Not that this has ever stopped me before. I met a group from the Point Pleasant Beach Dive Team and we headed for the inlet.
The water was dark and murky. Kind of a brown green and the wind was kicking up quite a chop. It was decided that instead of a dive…..there would be a drill.
The rest of us then broke into 3 teams of 3 and went looking. Let me say, this is not the first time they have done this. They are very good at hiding.
Sue was located first. Playing the unconscious victim wedged in the rocks. She had found a cave like section of rock and wedged body parts all around. I was part of the 4 man team down with her as not everyone fit through the opening she had gone in through. It was tight….very tight and we became “close” friends as we climbed over each other lining up.
After stabilizing the head and neck and dislodging the body parts, we proceeded to use the incoming waves to bring her out of her hole and up with us. The tide….the incoming tide…..that with each wave came farther and farther into our little “room”.
Once getting her in place we now had to get her out. Certainly not through the slit we shimmied in from. We started crawling out toward the water carrying our passenger with us.
I won’t say I wasn’t getting a little nervous as the water was rising and rushing in about us and we still had to get out. I have short legs here and those are some gi-normou
The value of teamwork and the efforts of many make a rescue like this possible in real life. This type of real life/real time practice puts it all in perspective.
Our second “victim” was harder to find. I think he fell asleep waiting for us. I yelled Marco hoping for a Polo as we climbed about looking betwixt and between the rocks for him. He was finally spotted and again in a tight hole. Again they called for me to go in but there just was not enough room in this hidey hole for all of us and I stayed at the opening protecting another member who was half in the hole from hitting his head on the rocks as he worked.
This job is not easy. It’s like a puzzle to figure out. It’s definitely a group effort. And this is only one of the many things they do. It will be interesting.
Where the Heck Did I Dive?
Below in the deep there's adventure and danger,
That's where you'll find Diver Dan.
The sites that he sees are exciting and stranger,
Than ever you'll find on the land!
He moves among creatures of frightening features,
Flashing teeth slashing jaws, flapping fins snapping claws.
He protects and he saves his friends under the waves,
That's where you'll find Diver Dan.
Hey boys and girls….did ya miss me? I didn’t think so. After a slow start this year born of weather, sniffles and travel, I was determined to get out today…. the first day of spring, promises of warming ocean temps, promises of sunshine and salt air…..I was excited.
I packed up the night before, powdering my seals and searching out my errant 4th element top and just the right socks to make my toes toasty. I set my alarm and drifted off to sleep with visions of shipwrecks draped in seaweed and fish large and small, lobsters and scallops, hydroids and aneomes and starfish, sharks…. eels…. giant squid and whales….. ummmm.
BEEEEP….BEEEEEEP……BEEEEEP…..time to get up. I gathered my gear and headed for the car. It was a bit nippy out, not spring like at all…… and I had to scrape the frost off of the windows, where was my sunshine and flowers?
I stopped for coffee and to scrape more frost from the windows and soon was on my way. As I arrived at the marina I spied Francis and Howard onboard and as I backpacked my tanks down the gangway I was passed by Jack all sunny and tanned from his latest Florida foray. I loaded on board and soon Bart roused and loaded on, joining us just before Bob arrived and now we were ready to head out. Six eager little faces straining to see what awaited us at the end of the inlet. There was talk of the Hankins, the Big one or the Little one, String Wreck, Locomotives, Spring Lake Sailer and the Bell Holder(I got the Historical Divers report but will save it for the next dive on her) ….. and of course the need for lobster, mussels, sinkers and a fish two. We didn’t want much.
The reported swells with 17 seconds betwixt and between were greatly exaggerated and we found ourselves with a north wind and some mondo chop….. like the little ship on Gilligan’s Island we braved the waves and headed for………what else………the Cobblestone Wreck. I think it amuses them to do this to me and they weren’t done having their fun yet, saving the best for a little later.
Now, I have been on the Cobblestone wreck before. An old wooden barge that sank carrying a load of Cobblestone. It is sometimes referred to as the New Deal wreck since it is close to another popular wreck and can be easily substituted when there is another boat there first, thus, giving you a “new deal”.
We arrived and quickly snagged a piece of wreckage and the pool was open. Now, someone, no finger pointing here, forgot the heater…… so it was a bit chilly gearing up this morning. But anticipation of the wreckage with low lying debris, high sections of intact wall, and sinkers and lures strung like Christmas tree decorations called to us, and we quickly geared up and dropped one by one into the cold green water. I was last in (hey…far end of the bench and my gloves were at the bottom of the hot water cooler!!! I was being polite)….last in and as I surfaced from my perfectly executed knee roll over the starboard gunnel I caught in the strong surface current and was swept towards the stern even as I kicked steadily trying to make headway to the granny line thoughtfully in place. As I grabbed hold of the line and pulled myself down, something was just not right….. I stopped and jiggled my rig, trying to reposition it on my back but that wasn’t it, a little deeper and my neck seal started to press in at my throat, making my breaths come a little harder each time. I stopped, got vertical, took a few breaths and tried moving gear about, adjusting hoses and my valves, pulling tanks up higher and tugging at my hood. But it just seemed to get worse, so before reaching the anchor I turned my dive.
I surprised Howard and Francis as I started up the ladder, they hadn’t expected me back so soon and they grabbed my manifold and pulled me up on deck and off the bouncing ladder. This was not good and I was disappointed. As I pulled at my neck seal and adjusted the layers of clothing below it, divers began to appear at the ladder.
Bart first, with only a few grand sinkers in tow and questions about the wreck. Visibility was dark green and only about 10 feet, no fish and there was a current on the bottom….. but the wreck reminded him of something else. Then Jack was at the transom with a good sized lobster in tow and a similar story, commenting that the wreck had a spooky look to it. Bob arrived on deck and as Howard geared up I was right behind him, having reworked my insulating layers, lengthening my reg necklace and foregoing my chest strap I once again rolled over the side. I grabbed hold of the line as I entered the water and came up ready to vent my wing and head down.
Much better this time and I noted the thick dark green color or the water as I made my way down. As my hand ran out of rope and began to feel chain, I still could not see the wreck. The tall aneome and coral covered piece of wreckage appeared quite suddenly and I followed the chain down to the anchor and the wall of wreckage down to the sand.
Here, piled together, were gargantuan starfish, nestled one atop the other. There were long thin boards lying in the sand and I pulled at them looking for a sturdy place to tie my reel in. The water was cloudy and green and visibility about 10ft. I had tossed extra weight in my pocket for the current and an extra line cutter for the mountains of fishing line always present here. As I made my way down the wall of the wreck I noted it was covered in hydroids, anemones and soft corals. There were broken clam shells in the sand and live sand dollars covered in their dark brown velvet coats. Large hermit crab shells dotted the landscape and each one I picked up was occupied. No fish were about and moon snails were nowhere to be seen. I passed several perfect circles of hydroids and aneomes closing up as I approached and swaying gently in the current as if there were a breeze blowing past. They were perched in the sand just a few yards from the wreck walls and looked to be about the size of car tires…..hmmmm
I ran out my line, staying close to the sand and looking about for something more to poke but it seemed no one was home today. I turned and headed back reeling in my line as the current carried me back and staying higher on the wreck hoping to catch a glimpse of something. Maybe even cobblestone. I have been here 3 times and have yet to see any of the cobblestones on this wreck.
At the chain Howard signaled up as he was pulling the anchor behind us and I slowly made my way up the line with Howard right below me. But not for long, he soon passed me like his shorts were on fire and was up on the boat and out of his suit by the time I arrived on deck. He apparently was cold and no man or woman was slowing his pursuit of a warm jacket and sunshine.
My computer registered 40F at 82fsw and as I stripped off my gear I was informed there had been a slight error….. we were not on the Cobblestone Wreck after all. We were on…… the Pinta…. Ooops…..long pieces of lumber in the sand, high intact walls…… yup…..they do this on purpose you know….it’s like a test or something.
As we made our way to the Cobblestone Wreck once again, the seas were beginning to lay down and we talked boats and fishing and one of us basked in the warmth of the sun coming though the cabin window proclaiming he felt like a “flower in the sun”. I gotta get out more…..We arrived at the Cobblestone Wreck and quickly tied in. While the cabin was 60F with the sun streaming in and I had remembered my hat and gloves, I was still a bit chilled
and opted out of dive #2 while I was still comfortable and having a good day. Howard and Francis joined me and the others rolled off both port and starboard like mice abandoning ship.Their dives were short, with reports of cooler water and lessening viz. None the less, Bob once again was last onboard and he was excited.
He had run right into a lobster and making a quick grab dropped him in his bag. But right after that…. He had fallen upon a fish…. A fish too big to let pass…. Slightly sluggish in the cold water and pinned against the wreckage our very own Rambo of the deep pulled out his trusty dive knife and while mentally plotting his move with grid by grid analysis, he did a Tarzan move and took this behemoth of a fish with a quick stab to the head. Holding him in place and swooping him into his goody bag he ascended the ladder onto the boat and tossed his prize catch on the deck.
He had managed to snag, with a clean stab to the head, a black fish weighing in at over 14lbs. (I poked him) Luckily Francis had his camera because you really had to see it to believe it. Good job Bob! After hearing about the cold and deteriorated visibility, I was not disappointed in my decision to pass on the dive and I wrapped myself in my blanket and snuggled in for the trip home and stories of boats and adventures and dives past.
We were soon at the dock and loaded up for home… lobsters, blackfish, sinkers and clams in tow, but not a single cobblestone…..I think they are a myth…..
The Dives I Didn't Make
We are tied to the ocean. And when we go back to the sea, whether it is to sail or to watch - we are going back from whence we came. ~ John F. Kennedy
I have had some tough weeks this year…… illness and injury keeping me dry. This week again I was destined to stay at the dock….or was I?
Maybe I couldn’t dive…. but I could mate. I packed up my box of tissues and headed for the dock. The sun was peeking out and there was the promise of sunshine and flat seas and I was getting out. One way or another.
As I arrived at the Lady GoDiver I was greeted by:
Captain Howard
Bart, and his new never been seen dry suit,
Harry and we will get to him later,
Stan the Popsicle Man and HIS DRYSUIT, 60F and he wasn’t diving wet, what’s up with that?
John, suave and debonair as ever
and Francis who valiantly tried to move me along to load my gear on board, only to learn I was the mate of the day, and pleasantly surprised at that.
The sun was shining and the day was already warming nicely as we headed out. Clearing the inlet we were met by gentle rolling swells and the promise of an enjoyable day on the water.
I knew that we would head for wrecks I had never visited but smiled as the discussion turned to which wreck to hit first. As usual I was befuddled and confused as suggestions were bantered about…..how about the one that used to be…no, not that one…..how about the one with no name over by….. no not that one….. how about the real Sea Girt Wreck, no to be confused with the one they call the Sea Girt Wreck, out past the other Sea Girt Wreck….. hmmmm we had a winner.
I finished my coffee as we lazily relaxed in the cabin catching up with one another and Howard and Harry told tales of past navigational trials and feats, including taking a row boat from Sandy Hook to Cape May. There was a voyage I was glad I wasn’t the first mate on.
We arrived at our destination and the anchor was dropped. Harry gave some lessons in knot tying and I still am practicing this grapevine knot he so diligently tied for us.
As mate, I helped with gloves and hoods and masks, checked tanks and hooked up inflator hoses. Got fins and clipped off lights and goody bags, paying back past times of assistance offered to me. Soon my boys were geared up and rolling off the gunwale as I handed down cameras and spear guns and waived “good bye…Luv you”…. And they were off, slipping beneath the clear cold water.
After putting the second wave of divers in the water, I waited on deck for their return as I knew the frigid water temps would keep these dives short. I mused how I stood here now in just a sweatshirt and last time out it was so cold on deck my mask froze on the inside. Soon my first group was back and I reached down pulling up goody bags laden with the days catch and treasures and spear guns and whatever else I could as the divers climbed back on board.
There were goodies to eat and others to contemplate and muse over. ¾ lb sinkers, what were they fishing for? And teeth marks from vicious scaled attack fish? There were lures and sinkers and pictures to share of the 25-30 foot viz. And cold cold hands from the 38F water. I broke open a package of hand warmers and put out a light snack….. after all, what are mates for?
We were soon all back onboard and sufficiently warmed and ready to choose the next dive site. Stan had been diligently poring over the maps and charts to no avail. After some discussion, information overload for me as usual, the Logwood was decided upon and we steamed ahead.
Arriving on target, the buoy was tossed, followed by the short discussion of the possibility that the wreck was deeper than the buoy line. No matter, short work was made of hooking the wreck and again divers geared up. One diver learned not to “hop” inside the cabin as he wriggled into his dry suit (low ceilings) and another skipped this dive as his regulator had some free flow problems on dive one and another contemplated how cold his hands had been fist time out….but it didn’t stop him from going down once more.
The dives were a tad shorter this time but more goodies arrived on deck. There was the lobster we accused of being short, but upon measuring he was more than legal….. and the goody bag laden with sinkers. More tales of good viz and cold water and how the winters currents had shifted the sands and uncovered a good portion of the wreck. There were lobsters with eggs and a dopey skate, and Stan graciously presented me with his “special” find which I will be cleaning up and setting on the mantle in a place of honor.
Everyone was soon back on deck and the anchor pulled and all that was left to do was collect our wandering buoy. No problem, Mate Cheryl at the helm.
There is some disagreement as to whether it was currents, my steering or Stan’s throttling that made us miss the buoy….. three times….. I can tell you the comments regarding how it would be dark in 7 hours didn’t help either…… (and it was Stan’s fault….but you didn’t hear that from me)
Soon we were clearing the inlet and backing into the slip. As we readied to unload the boat, in the corner of the deck laid a lone fish, speared earlier in the day ….. I hadn’t dived …… but what the heck….. you know it ……. I poked him .
I love diving.
How Many Days Until Spring?
Cold! If the thermometer had been an inch longer we’d have frozen to death.
~ Mark Twain ~
It was chilly today…..we will leave it at that for the time being.
A bit of chill in the air this morning as I set out for the lady GoDiver and a day’s diving. Arriving at the marina, yesterdays wind had died down and the morning was clear and crisp.
With choices of hundreds of wrecks to visit, the #9 Wreck is decided upon. Again I am lost. The best I can tell you is that it is a wooden barge in 80 feet of water and you can’t dive it unless you have dived Wrecks 1 through 8 first. I lied and we went diving.
I have no idea how the new wing managed, as I believe I spent the entire dive puffing air only into my suit for warmth and not the wing. I felt dry in my suit but the cold settled in as I made my way up and hanging in 15 feet of icy cold water with a crystal clear view of the dive ladder was tortuous.
Let’s just say that the warmth of the cabin brought surface interval discussions of hot tubs in the snow and trimmings for the “new” boat, including the hot showers, heated rails and salon with the 42 inch plasma TV. OK so maybe not the TV…. But the rest of it for sure…..Please buy the old boat……
An
yway….back to the task at hand. All four computers gave a different water temperature. We had 37F, 39F, 41F and 42F. Take your pick. Artifacts were found, sinkers rescued, lobsters harassed and rays and eel pouts spotted. Bob recovered a very respectable fish with a clean shot through the head and Howard brought up a plethora of scaled creatures with the worst dental work I have seen in a long time. I poked them too.
~ Mark Twain ~
It was chilly today…..we will leave it at that for the time being.
A bit of chill in the air this morning as I set out for the lady GoDiver and a day’s diving. Arriving at the marina, yesterdays wind had died down and the morning was clear and crisp.
Four of us loaded on board, myself, Howard, John and Bob, and the new heater (that looks like Wall-E of movie fame) was going full force. An apparent recent reorganization onboard worked wonders and with all our gear loaded on board the head was empty and we were sprawled across the seats as we headed out of the inlet with only the icing on the windows giving hints of the day to come.
With choices of hundreds of wrecks to visit, the #9 Wreck is decided upon. Again I am lost. The best I can tell you is that it is a wooden barge in 80 feet of water and you can’t dive it unless you have dived Wrecks 1 through 8 first. I lied and we went diving.
I believe this is also referred to as the Sylvanus, or the Steam Canal Boat Austin - piloted by SYLVANUS GREENWOOD -- reportedly a well-known boatman on the Erie Canal. This Steam Boat reportedly went down with all hands near Perth Amboy, N.J. about February 1903.
The water was flat and the air cold as we headed north for our first dive. We discussed our local wreck museums, past dives, wet dry suits and dive trips south. Time passed quickly and suddenly we were there.
As I geared up my fingers ached from the cold and relief was found in the steamy water bucket we dipped our hoods and gloves in before slipping them on. It took me a minute to figure out why my mask was so foggy as I wiped at the lens with my gloved hand, but ice had formed inside the mask and Howard gave it a scraping and a warm dip to get me on my way.
With little current running we were tied in off the stern and soon divers dropped one by one in the water and down the line.
With little current running we were tied in off the stern and soon divers dropped one by one in the water and down the line.
As I slid beneath the water the lone thin strip of exposed skin on my forehead made its presence known and threatened an ice cream headache if not attended to and so I descended with my hand on my hood warming the errant area just enough to ward of the chill. The water was a dark green and thick with those little stringy thingys so popular this time of year, but as we neared the wreck the water cleared and a respectable 20-30 feet of visibility showed 3-4 foot high wooden walls and planking stretching out before us.
I peeked and poked the tiny blackfish taking refuge near the sand and in each nook there seemed to be a large sinker neatly placed on display. I soon took up sinker hunting, filling my pocket up to the top. I barely had room to squeeze in my brass artifact find and no room was left for a souvenir shell. My fingers were now numb from the waters cold and I turned on back to the anchor line and thoughts of the warm cabin.
I have no idea how the new wing managed, as I believe I spent the entire dive puffing air only into my suit for warmth and not the wing. I felt dry in my suit but the cold settled in as I made my way up and hanging in 15 feet of icy cold water with a crystal clear view of the dive ladder was tortuous.
As I grabbed hold of the ladder I could feel the slushy beginnings of ice forming and John reached down and grabbed my manifold to help me up and keep me from slipping back into the water.
Let’s just say that the warmth of the cabin brought surface interval discussions of hot tubs in the snow and trimmings for the “new” boat, including the hot showers, heated rails and salon with the 42 inch plasma TV. OK so maybe not the TV…. But the rest of it for sure…..Please buy the old boat……
An
yway….back to the task at hand. All four computers gave a different water temperature. We had 37F, 39F, 41F and 42F. Take your pick. Artifacts were found, sinkers rescued, lobsters harassed and rays and eel pouts spotted. Bob recovered a very respectable fish with a clean shot through the head and Howard brought up a plethora of scaled creatures with the worst dental work I have seen in a long time. I poked them too.Our second dive was at an all too familiar wreck, the Bell Holder. Bob remembered the actual name of the wreck, but I forgot it already, but I will ask him again.
I had been debating whether to make the second dive as I was just thawing out from the first but could not pass up a chance to visit my good buddy, Edgar D. Conger III. Eddie is a gargantuan eel who has taken up residence in the very end hole of the wreckage where the mast or long wooden post extends out into the sand and I always stop to see him when I am there and he comes out to greet me. It would just be rude to be in the area and not stop by and so I once again suit up and drop over the side. Large blackfish were spotted here also and lobster but only small ones were talken. We were all cautious, calling it at about 30 minutes and feeling much better not waiting around for the cold to send us up once more.
Once more onboard we raised the dive ladder and looking out at it from the cabin, the icicles that once dripped down as we climbed the ladder pointed straight up in the air making for an unusual sight. But we warmed up as we headed on in, the warmth of the cabin, sunshine and flat seas slowly softening the memory of the cold edge of the day.
Just some January Musings
And the Grinch, with his Grinch-feet
ice cold in the snow,
stood puzzling and puzzling,
how could it be so?
~Dr. Suess~
Five hardy souls were we this morning as we sat at the dock waiting to hear if the Lady GoDiver would set sail.
I just got my stitches healed and my drysuit back from repairs, I was ready to go....this dive was to be dry by golly, even if it wasnt that warm.
It looked cold this morning when my alarm went off. As I loaded that last of my gear in the car, it was cold, not quite 10 F yet. As I drove from Pt Pleasant to Belmar, I noted that only 3 people were up....whats up with that,only 3 lights on....where were all the old people that have to get up to p**? Must have been cold if they werent getting up.
From past experience, I knew not to get doughnuts when I stopped for coffee, the Capt and crew on this boat are cookie monsters, so I searched out a market with an early opening to pick up the days snacks.
With this in mind....I think Howard's new boat should be called "Chips Ahoy"...but anyway....
Arriving at the dock, we all pulled in one by one, but an unfortunate series of events prevented todays dive....so we went out to breakfast instead.
I do have to mention.....one of us had ICECREAM for breakfast.....Gotta love divers...
Popsicle Diving
The old man knew he was going far out and he left the smell of the land behind and rowed out into the clean early morning smell of the ocean.
~Ernest Hemmingway “The Old Man and the Sea”~
Hmmmm…… lets see …… last time I dove it was 74 F water temps and 100 ft viz ….. today it was 26 F as I loaded on board for a 44 F dive with 20 ft visibility …… what was I thinking? …… going off and diving that warm water stuff ….
A tad nippy this morning as I made my way to the Lady Godiver, 26 F, and Howard moved the boat on me again, this was a 2 cuppa coffee kinda morning.
I arrived at Main One and began loading my gear onboard. Francis, John, Mike and Stan the popsicle man were already there as was a lone swan named Delilah, hereinafter referred to as D. Swan. Dee kept close watch as we set up our gear and after finishing, she and I had a heart to heart while we shared some Munchkins. They go straight to her hips but she loves them anyway. Scott from Shore Aquatics stopped by to say hello and soon after we were all stowed away and set out with Dee swimming as fast as she could to keep up.
Shark River was flat but I had heard the wind would be at work today. I read it on the internet, so it had to be true.
We made our way 5 miles out to a wreck whose name escaped the good captain, but whose remains held promise of good hunting. Upon arriving, we were greeted with 3 footers, rolling fast and hard and having their way with the boat as we tried to hook into a piece of the wreckage. It was decided that we would forego this site and head inshore for something more protected, and we set sail for the Bell Holder. You remember the Bell Holder…. wooden wreck, inshore, not Belle Holder as in ladies name, but Bell Holder as in they only found the holder and not the bell…. that Bell Holder.
I have my new wing, to better fit my tanks, and cant figure out how to get my computer back in the console, so I guess it will remain a wrist mount for the time being. My drysuit valves have been tightened and my manifold lubricated. A never ending process this kit of mine. Lets dive.
We were bundled in our warm under roos and tucked in our rigs as we rolled off the side, well most of us were. Stan the popsicle man was diving wet, on purpose, go figure. Earlier, in the cabin, we had questioned why his booties were smoking. He apparently has a system to all this.
As I descended on the line, I was sure to hold on as the water was a thick green color and the only things I could see were the line and my hand if I was close enough. I could feel the trickle of water on my left arm as my suit leaked once more. It was not looking good.
As I arrived at the anchor things opened up considerably and the wooden planking came into view. Running left of the tie in to the end of the wood and ribs, several small blackfish swam about and starfish were all that were tucked beneath slowly decaying boards. Here I found my shell for my bucket at home and as I looked about, I “tapped several fish on the shoulder” to ask directions to where the larger denizens were congregated. Okay, so I poked them and pointed, happy?
Back at the tie in I could feel the water squish in my sleeve but headed right to have a look. Here was where the big guns were hanging. Swimming in and out of holes but staying close to the safety of the wreck. At the end of the debris, a long wooden pole extended out into the sand. Possibly a mast or even a wooden shaft of some sort, I gave a look and pondered this before turning back. Back at the wreck, I spied a large eel curled up outside a hole. His tail was wrapped round him like a cat curled up on a rug in front of the fire and the haziness of the water played with the greens of his body making him a spectrum of color all snuggled there in the sand in front of his den. He made a striking picture.
Francis had his camera with him and I brought him over to the scene as quickly as I could, but my squiggly friend had already moved on. I could have easily stayed much longer with so much to poke under and about but I was chilled now and needed to go up.
I followed Francis up the line and as I hung in the hazy cloud of green water I thought hard for the name of the dry suit guru I had been told about. The name did come to me and my dry suit will be paying Steve Gamble a visit.
With the post being gone from the ladder for winter, climbing on board was a bit of a challenge with nothing to grab onto. As I reached the top step, a quick lift on my manifold brought me over the transom and into the cabin to warm up. Thank you gentlemen.
The water here was much calmer but still had a bit of fight in her and we pulled from the mooring as we waited for the last of the divers to exit the water. Several nice sized fish were speared and John managed to just reach out and grab what looked to be a blackfish of maybe 12 lbs. I am sure that fish was more surprised than John as he went into that goody bag. Good job!
I poured water out of my sleeve, wrung out my thermal top and changed into warm dry clothes. With a chill on me, I was done for the day. And of course, as luck would have it, our second dive of the day was on the Vega, a wreck I have never been on. Oh well, next time.
Mike and John opted to sit out this dive also. So it was up to Francis to bring us back pictures and Stan the popsicle man to give a report. They headed over the side, Francis with his camera and Stan with speargun in hand and we waited to hear what was below.
The Vega is a sunken ferry, lying turtled and intact on the bottom, its metal hull just beginning to show signs of giving way to the oceans poundings. There were fish, but all small and Francis videoed the exterior to share with those of us who did not visit her. As we readied for the ride in the air was still steel cold but the sun shone down keeping the damp and gloom that could have been at bay.
I have had better days on the water, and certainly much worse. Tis good to be wet, even on days such as these. I will go again.
~Ernest Hemmingway “The Old Man and the Sea”~
Hmmmm…… lets see …… last time I dove it was 74 F water temps and 100 ft viz ….. today it was 26 F as I loaded on board for a 44 F dive with 20 ft visibility …… what was I thinking? …… going off and diving that warm water stuff ….
A tad nippy this morning as I made my way to the Lady Godiver, 26 F, and Howard moved the boat on me again, this was a 2 cuppa coffee kinda morning.
I arrived at Main One and began loading my gear onboard. Francis, John, Mike and Stan the popsicle man were already there as was a lone swan named Delilah, hereinafter referred to as D. Swan. Dee kept close watch as we set up our gear and after finishing, she and I had a heart to heart while we shared some Munchkins. They go straight to her hips but she loves them anyway. Scott from Shore Aquatics stopped by to say hello and soon after we were all stowed away and set out with Dee swimming as fast as she could to keep up.
Shark River was flat but I had heard the wind would be at work today. I read it on the internet, so it had to be true.
We made our way 5 miles out to a wreck whose name escaped the good captain, but whose remains held promise of good hunting. Upon arriving, we were greeted with 3 footers, rolling fast and hard and having their way with the boat as we tried to hook into a piece of the wreckage. It was decided that we would forego this site and head inshore for something more protected, and we set sail for the Bell Holder. You remember the Bell Holder…. wooden wreck, inshore, not Belle Holder as in ladies name, but Bell Holder as in they only found the holder and not the bell…. that Bell Holder.
I have my new wing, to better fit my tanks, and cant figure out how to get my computer back in the console, so I guess it will remain a wrist mount for the time being. My drysuit valves have been tightened and my manifold lubricated. A never ending process this kit of mine. Lets dive.
We were bundled in our warm under roos and tucked in our rigs as we rolled off the side, well most of us were. Stan the popsicle man was diving wet, on purpose, go figure. Earlier, in the cabin, we had questioned why his booties were smoking. He apparently has a system to all this.
As I descended on the line, I was sure to hold on as the water was a thick green color and the only things I could see were the line and my hand if I was close enough. I could feel the trickle of water on my left arm as my suit leaked once more. It was not looking good.
As I arrived at the anchor things opened up considerably and the wooden planking came into view. Running left of the tie in to the end of the wood and ribs, several small blackfish swam about and starfish were all that were tucked beneath slowly decaying boards. Here I found my shell for my bucket at home and as I looked about, I “tapped several fish on the shoulder” to ask directions to where the larger denizens were congregated. Okay, so I poked them and pointed, happy?
Back at the tie in I could feel the water squish in my sleeve but headed right to have a look. Here was where the big guns were hanging. Swimming in and out of holes but staying close to the safety of the wreck. At the end of the debris, a long wooden pole extended out into the sand. Possibly a mast or even a wooden shaft of some sort, I gave a look and pondered this before turning back. Back at the wreck, I spied a large eel curled up outside a hole. His tail was wrapped round him like a cat curled up on a rug in front of the fire and the haziness of the water played with the greens of his body making him a spectrum of color all snuggled there in the sand in front of his den. He made a striking picture.
Francis had his camera with him and I brought him over to the scene as quickly as I could, but my squiggly friend had already moved on. I could have easily stayed much longer with so much to poke under and about but I was chilled now and needed to go up.
I followed Francis up the line and as I hung in the hazy cloud of green water I thought hard for the name of the dry suit guru I had been told about. The name did come to me and my dry suit will be paying Steve Gamble a visit.
With the post being gone from the ladder for winter, climbing on board was a bit of a challenge with nothing to grab onto. As I reached the top step, a quick lift on my manifold brought me over the transom and into the cabin to warm up. Thank you gentlemen.
The water here was much calmer but still had a bit of fight in her and we pulled from the mooring as we waited for the last of the divers to exit the water. Several nice sized fish were speared and John managed to just reach out and grab what looked to be a blackfish of maybe 12 lbs. I am sure that fish was more surprised than John as he went into that goody bag. Good job!
I poured water out of my sleeve, wrung out my thermal top and changed into warm dry clothes. With a chill on me, I was done for the day. And of course, as luck would have it, our second dive of the day was on the Vega, a wreck I have never been on. Oh well, next time.
Mike and John opted to sit out this dive also. So it was up to Francis to bring us back pictures and Stan the popsicle man to give a report. They headed over the side, Francis with his camera and Stan with speargun in hand and we waited to hear what was below.
The Vega is a sunken ferry, lying turtled and intact on the bottom, its metal hull just beginning to show signs of giving way to the oceans poundings. There were fish, but all small and Francis videoed the exterior to share with those of us who did not visit her. As we readied for the ride in the air was still steel cold but the sun shone down keeping the damp and gloom that could have been at bay.
I have had better days on the water, and certainly much worse. Tis good to be wet, even on days such as these. I will go again.
I Am Coming Home
Most of us, swimming against the tides of trouble the world knows nothing about, need only a bit of praise or encouragement - and we will make the goal.
- Robert Collier
Today was the final dive. I have spent the last nine days here in northern Florida engrossed in dive training. I took on quite a bit with this trip covering Cavern, Cave, Advanced Nitrox and Deco, and have passed all. I have had fun with my trip reports using humor to get through some of my less than stellar moments, and I did have fun, but I worked too.
Today we did our final dive, another guided dive. Again we were at Devils Ear and this time we were going to the Bone Room. Again I walked my deco bottle down the stairs and into the water before we made our way over the edge of the chimney and down to the cave entrance. The flow felt much stronger today. I guess the rain up north is making its way here through the aquifer. I pulled myself through and hid out of the flow while Jim tied in. I dropped my bottle behind the Grim Reaper sign and made my way up to the ceiling. I was leader again today.
You would think by now the tunnel would be familiar but I am still a tourist here. There are so many nooks and crannies and out croppings, I still haven’t seen everything. The walls change shape as you move along from room to room and tunnel to tunnel, moving up and down as the ceiling of rock rises and lowers above you. Each turn holds a new surprise. Sometimes it is tall and narrow and sometimes low and almond shaped. There are enormous rooms that you think will go on forever and slits in the rock you must pull yourself through. And then….. it is time to turn back.
Back at the end of the gold line I pick up my O2 bottle and am signaled to pull the reel. With the bottle and the current of water I still could use a little work on my buoyancy but I pull the reel without fouling it and we are on our way out to the chimney and up to the log.
We are joined on the log by a large river eel and he swims his way up and over the edge and into the river just ahead of me. I make my way back to the steps getting a few last pokes
in and then I am out and I am done. I have passed all my courses and I’m on my way home. I am ready.
I researched my instructor, Jim Wyatt, and I am pleased with my choice and would recommend him without hesitation. He was thorough and well versed, not a hand holder and not a screamer. He readily conveyed information and he critiqued, not criticized.
That being said, I would like to thank everyone who offered me encouragement through all this. It was greatly appreciated. Really.
I wish everyone the Best of the Holiday Season, the Merriest Christmas and Cow Butts in your New Year.
- Robert Collier
Today was the final dive. I have spent the last nine days here in northern Florida engrossed in dive training. I took on quite a bit with this trip covering Cavern, Cave, Advanced Nitrox and Deco, and have passed all. I have had fun with my trip reports using humor to get through some of my less than stellar moments, and I did have fun, but I worked too.
Today we did our final dive, another guided dive. Again we were at Devils Ear and this time we were going to the Bone Room. Again I walked my deco bottle down the stairs and into the water before we made our way over the edge of the chimney and down to the cave entrance. The flow felt much stronger today. I guess the rain up north is making its way here through the aquifer. I pulled myself through and hid out of the flow while Jim tied in. I dropped my bottle behind the Grim Reaper sign and made my way up to the ceiling. I was leader again today.
You would think by now the tunnel would be familiar but I am still a tourist here. There are so many nooks and crannies and out croppings, I still haven’t seen everything. The walls change shape as you move along from room to room and tunnel to tunnel, moving up and down as the ceiling of rock rises and lowers above you. Each turn holds a new surprise. Sometimes it is tall and narrow and sometimes low and almond shaped. There are enormous rooms that you think will go on forever and slits in the rock you must pull yourself through. And then….. it is time to turn back.
Back at the end of the gold line I pick up my O2 bottle and am signaled to pull the reel. With the bottle and the current of water I still could use a little work on my buoyancy but I pull the reel without fouling it and we are on our way out to the chimney and up to the log.
We are joined on the log by a large river eel and he swims his way up and over the edge and into the river just ahead of me. I make my way back to the steps getting a few last pokes
in and then I am out and I am done. I have passed all my courses and I’m on my way home. I am ready.I researched my instructor, Jim Wyatt, and I am pleased with my choice and would recommend him without hesitation. He was thorough and well versed, not a hand holder and not a screamer. He readily conveyed information and he critiqued, not criticized.
That being said, I would like to thank everyone who offered me encouragement through all this. It was greatly appreciated. Really.
I wish everyone the Best of the Holiday Season, the Merriest Christmas and Cow Butts in your New Year.
The Deco Log
"Oxygen is addictive and deadly. Everyone who uses it will eventually die"
RW Hamilton, PhD 1991
Yesterday was a classroom day. Philosophy, physiology, rules, equations, charts …… total overload. After dinner, I sit and review and come up with the questions I should have asked in class. I work a little bit with some planning software and I read a little more. As a break, I try to put grommets in my dry suit pocket but they are apparently titanium lined or something as I have some nice deep holes in my block of wood, but not a one in the pocket.
I toss and turn in bed as I try to sort out the things I want to ask and imagine trying to drag my hiney through the Ear while dragging an additional O2 bottle. I have found my 1ml gloves and my still sore fingers hope they do the trick.
As I stare at the stars above…. I think ……. Where the hell did the roof go?!! …. And then I remember the glow in the dark plastic stars stuck to the ceiling. This is going to be a long night.
Morning comes and I sit with my cup of coffee and review the dive planning once more. I am about to purposely violate the NDL limits for the first time in my diving career.
We are back at Ginnie Springs as rain north of here has rendered most of the area springs undivable. The swift movement of the water here keeps the cave clear. I fumble with the O2 bottle, but some adjustment of the D-ring and moving my reels to my butt make midwater clipping off of the bottle go much more smoothly. I have moved my computer from my D-ring to my wrist and written out several contingency Deco schedules on my slate and I am trying out double 95’s. All new little tweaks for me.
I swim around a few minutes getting used to the tanks and poking a fish or two before we move on and now we are ready. This 40 cu ft tank seems to weight me like a rock and I am at the bottom of the chimney in no time. I will be second in line this dive and try to get my buoyancy with the bottle down as I wait for Jim to tie the reel in. It isn’t pretty but at least I am not dragging my way through the tunnel. I drop my deco bottle at the beginning of the gold line and we work our way up to the ceiling and pull ourselves into the cave. I am feeling disorganized. I want to check my tank pressure and in doing so I fall behind and fin to keep up instead of frog kick. My long hose is sticking at the back of my neck and I am in perpetual tug of war with it, my ears seem to be in need of clearing more often than usual and to do so I have to either let go of the wall or use the hand with my light, banging the light head off of my forehead more than once. I have to keep my light where the diver in front of me can see it and keep track of the light of the diver behind me. My suit is squeezed and tapping air in is not doing the trick. It seems to just move along my shoulders and out the exhaust valve. I am obviously out of trim and just when I think I will signal for the team to hold up, a corner is turned and I hold off until we are in a better area. These are just little annoyances, not life threatening or dive ending issues, nothing I cannot correct or handle. The right answer was to hold everyone up and get situated but I didn’t. Through the Lips and at the Keyhole I lose my trim while checking my gauges and kick up a bit of sand, not too bad but I shouldn’t have. We reach the 400 Hill and I signal that I want to turn the dive. I am not at my turn pressure but at the end of my comfort level and I would like to regroup and try again. We turn and head back.
I am sure I did not look like I was struggling to the rest of the team, just a bit off on my buoyancy and some improper finning. It always feels worse to you when it happens. The return trip went more smoothly with the current carrying us and at the Lips I am stopped and signaled…. “Where is the line?” My nemesis drill. Even when I find the line I always have something else going on. Black out mask on and I feel for my reel…. Which has been moved to behind me. I little fumbling to find the reel I want and I now have to find a good rock to tie off to. I remember I have to go up a bit to keep from getting bogged down between the rocks and I feel for the direction of the current as I then know that here, the gold line is to my right and along the wall. I set off doing sweeps for the errant line and as I am about to pull out line for my third sweep I feel the gold line, grabbing on and checking for the thickness, making sure I haven’t doubled back on myself again. I tie off my reel and am rewarded with my own mask back. Now I have to just reel in my line and stow it without fouling and I am done.
We are back at the start of the gold line and I pick up my deco bottle and clip off, trying to anticipate the rush of water as I squeeze through the Ear and out into the chimney. The weight of the bottle helps keep me in place and I pull myself onto the log. I have not earned
any deco time this dive and sit for my 3 minute safety stop at least glad the gloves worked out. My hands feel good for a change.
RW Hamilton, PhD 1991
Yesterday was a classroom day. Philosophy, physiology, rules, equations, charts …… total overload. After dinner, I sit and review and come up with the questions I should have asked in class. I work a little bit with some planning software and I read a little more. As a break, I try to put grommets in my dry suit pocket but they are apparently titanium lined or something as I have some nice deep holes in my block of wood, but not a one in the pocket.
I toss and turn in bed as I try to sort out the things I want to ask and imagine trying to drag my hiney through the Ear while dragging an additional O2 bottle. I have found my 1ml gloves and my still sore fingers hope they do the trick.
As I stare at the stars above…. I think ……. Where the hell did the roof go?!! …. And then I remember the glow in the dark plastic stars stuck to the ceiling. This is going to be a long night.
Morning comes and I sit with my cup of coffee and review the dive planning once more. I am about to purposely violate the NDL limits for the first time in my diving career.
We are back at Ginnie Springs as rain north of here has rendered most of the area springs undivable. The swift movement of the water here keeps the cave clear. I fumble with the O2 bottle, but some adjustment of the D-ring and moving my reels to my butt make midwater clipping off of the bottle go much more smoothly. I have moved my computer from my D-ring to my wrist and written out several contingency Deco schedules on my slate and I am trying out double 95’s. All new little tweaks for me.
I swim around a few minutes getting used to the tanks and poking a fish or two before we move on and now we are ready. This 40 cu ft tank seems to weight me like a rock and I am at the bottom of the chimney in no time. I will be second in line this dive and try to get my buoyancy with the bottle down as I wait for Jim to tie the reel in. It isn’t pretty but at least I am not dragging my way through the tunnel. I drop my deco bottle at the beginning of the gold line and we work our way up to the ceiling and pull ourselves into the cave. I am feeling disorganized. I want to check my tank pressure and in doing so I fall behind and fin to keep up instead of frog kick. My long hose is sticking at the back of my neck and I am in perpetual tug of war with it, my ears seem to be in need of clearing more often than usual and to do so I have to either let go of the wall or use the hand with my light, banging the light head off of my forehead more than once. I have to keep my light where the diver in front of me can see it and keep track of the light of the diver behind me. My suit is squeezed and tapping air in is not doing the trick. It seems to just move along my shoulders and out the exhaust valve. I am obviously out of trim and just when I think I will signal for the team to hold up, a corner is turned and I hold off until we are in a better area. These are just little annoyances, not life threatening or dive ending issues, nothing I cannot correct or handle. The right answer was to hold everyone up and get situated but I didn’t. Through the Lips and at the Keyhole I lose my trim while checking my gauges and kick up a bit of sand, not too bad but I shouldn’t have. We reach the 400 Hill and I signal that I want to turn the dive. I am not at my turn pressure but at the end of my comfort level and I would like to regroup and try again. We turn and head back.
I am sure I did not look like I was struggling to the rest of the team, just a bit off on my buoyancy and some improper finning. It always feels worse to you when it happens. The return trip went more smoothly with the current carrying us and at the Lips I am stopped and signaled…. “Where is the line?” My nemesis drill. Even when I find the line I always have something else going on. Black out mask on and I feel for my reel…. Which has been moved to behind me. I little fumbling to find the reel I want and I now have to find a good rock to tie off to. I remember I have to go up a bit to keep from getting bogged down between the rocks and I feel for the direction of the current as I then know that here, the gold line is to my right and along the wall. I set off doing sweeps for the errant line and as I am about to pull out line for my third sweep I feel the gold line, grabbing on and checking for the thickness, making sure I haven’t doubled back on myself again. I tie off my reel and am rewarded with my own mask back. Now I have to just reel in my line and stow it without fouling and I am done.
We are back at the start of the gold line and I pick up my deco bottle and clip off, trying to anticipate the rush of water as I squeeze through the Ear and out into the chimney. The weight of the bottle helps keep me in place and I pull myself onto the log. I have not earned
any deco time this dive and sit for my 3 minute safety stop at least glad the gloves worked out. My hands feel good for a change.After lunch we plan out Dive Two and drop back in the water. I am leading this time and if we reach the Hill 400 tunnel we will tour it. We drop down the chimney and through the Ear, drop our deco bottles at the Grim Reaper sign at the beginning of the gold line and make our way up to the ceiling. I pull along watching for lights behind me and we are soon at the Lips, past the Keyhole, this time leaving it clear, and on we move. The tunnels change shape as we move along, some high and narrow, some hour glass shaped and others like a candy kiss with low ledges. The rocks change shape and amass above or below me as the tunnels change. My light slowly sweeps across and up and down taking it all in as I pull myself along. At the Hill 400 jump we move to the line and continue on our way. It is strange following a white line now but I see the familiar markings for distance and direction and begin to look about. Pieces of rock jut out into the tunnel making pulling along easy in most spots and my light plays along the rock formations, lighting up the white of the limestone and the contrasting black of other areas as the movement of the water cuts its way through.
I have reached my turn pressure and signal the team to turn. As we move back through the tunnel, Jim stops to point out fossils in the hard rock walls that have been uncovered by the springs flow. Several pieces of what looks to be turtle shell and other shells and a small sand dollar perfectly intact. A little farther along he stops and moves me to the side showing me a huge sand dollar embedded in the rock, the size possibly larger than my hand. It looks like you could pick it up off the ledge, the detail is so perfectly preserved.
We move on back through the wending tunnels and passages, the rooms and finally the Lips. No more drills here, just enjoying the scenery.
At the beginning of the line I pick up my bottle and clip it off and wait for Jim to pick up the reel and we make our way back to the tie in and our exit at the slit of rock we call the Devils Ear. I make my way up to the Deco Log, and now I see why it is aptly named. I switch over my gas to the deco bottle and settle into a half nap, half watch the pretty bubbles as I wait for my computer to count down my stop. If I straddle the log and jam my head under the branch I don’t even have to hang on, I just remain perched in place biding my time. Sweet.
I am done and ready to make my way up and to the stairs out and as I make my way, I notice the river water is a bit hazy compared to past days. Nowhere near Jersey hazy, but enough to give me a tinge of home sick.
Dive #204. A success. Play that number…
Peacock One
The water is your friend. You don’t have to fight with water, just share the same spirit as the water, and it will help you move. ~ Aleksandr Popov
I am in the midst of cattle and dairy farm country, passing by throngs of cows at every curve, and today …. again ….. I saw cow butts …… life is good.
While it is still a bit nippy here, the skies have cleared and we are able to move on to another cave system. Today we are diving Peacock I. At Peacock State Park there are several sinks, which over the course of time, divers have been able to link together through their tunnels. Orange Grove Sink is one and Challenge another. And three others, Peacock I, II, and III. Some time ago, the cave entrance at Peacock II collapsed and the area is no longer divable. Peacock III is an advanced cave with tight restrictions and a silty bottom.
Peacock I is our destination today. Another guided dive, a level above my training, at 1/3 gas supply instead of 1/6. This cave is a no flow cave. The spring water does not rush out and thr
ough these tunnels like a raging river and as such it has its own set of difficulties. In a large portion of these caves, the lack of moving water has allowed a thick layer of fine silky silt to cover the cave floor, and the walls are a crumbly porous rock that breaks at the touch. There is a looong low restriction of hard limestone in the center that most divers pull themselves through along the floor. I …. Am special. Lucky me will be allowed to swim through this restriction without touching the floor or ceiling. I am guessing that this dive is a test for me, especially after my rocky if not inconsistent performances so far, to see if I can handle my buoyancy and not silt out my environment. With no flow, in a silt out, this cave is not forgiving and I need to prove this Jersey diver can do this.
You walk down a wooden boardwalk path to a set of steps and climb down to a narrow ladder leading into the water. Here, you put on your fins and drop below the steps to the cave entrance. There are two gold lines in this cave and I am to follow the one to the left and the renowned, Peanut Tunnel.
My S- Drill goes more smoothly than it has all week, a marked improvement. I collect my buoyancy as I cannot touch the floor for any reason and the walls are very fragile. I will lead this dive and a three man team of myself, Jim my instructor and Marc, the assistant instructor into the cave.
Staying as close to the ceiling as I dare in a large open tunnel with a rock and silt bottom we move along and onto the restriction which I need to navigate without touching anything and still following the line, not getting tangled in the line and keeping awareness of the rest of my team behind me. No guys, I am not nervous. Jeesh….. I am not just a poker ….. I am THE poker. I touch everything!!!! Don’t they know that!
This restriction goes on forever, I want to blast out of there with a few good fin kicks but know I cannot. And so I creep along, looking about every now and then, and not touching anything. It is killing me.
We finally come out in a tunnel that is much smaller than the ones we have previously been in but still roomy enough to move about. The rock walls are carved out in varying formations and indentations and the lights play across the blackness, reflecting off of the white rock walls. There are twists and turns and the gold line moves from one side of the tunnel to the other as it winds its way deeper into the earth.
Crawling across the silty bottom, I occasionally spot small troglobites, mostly crayfish. Troglobites are albino looking cave dwelling animals that have adapted to no light and have no pigmentation or eyesight and often no eyes due to living their lives in total darkness. I remember the silt and know there will be no poking here and move along. I am watching my gauges and keep thinking, good lord we are going a long way, when I get the signal from behind we are turning around.
As the team turns, I am now the last man in line and am now thinking I have to keep up and not loose the line cause there is no one behind me to get me back on target…..and if I silt this place up ….. I could be here a very long time……
We wind our way back along the tunnels and inch our way through the restriction without touching …… lord knows I wish I was not so special and could pull myself along, I am getting a bit tired here.
At a rock outcropping near the tunnel entrance I am handed the blackout mask and another lost line drill is in progress. I have brought a reel and a spool with me today. Spools are so much harder to foul. Although you can do other things to them ….. like drop them ….. please don’t let me ….. please.
I set my buoyancy a little heavy and search for a rock to tie on to. Having been spun in a circle I have no idea where the line is and with no flow I have nothing to acclimate myself to except rocks. My first tie off does not hold and I find another rock and begin to make my sweep. Nothing and I move a bit more, and a bit more and ….. and….. I find a line! As I am tying my spool off to it I feel it again. Something is not right. It is too thin …. It is… hmmm… I think it is my own line. I have gotten tangled and doubled back on myself. I untie to restart my search.
My mask is handed back to me and we are calling it a day. I am not far from the line, but I do appreciate Jim not allowing me to get frustrated here. I realized my mistake and there will be other dives to practice this more. And this dive…… this dive was great.
On the way out I am to pull the reel another dive team had left behind and asked us to retrieve. With no flow, I had no trouble with my buoyancy, and more importantly….. I did not foul the reel.
I am in the midst of cattle and dairy farm country, passing by throngs of cows at every curve, and today …. again ….. I saw cow butts …… life is good.
While it is still a bit nippy here, the skies have cleared and we are able to move on to another cave system. Today we are diving Peacock I. At Peacock State Park there are several sinks, which over the course of time, divers have been able to link together through their tunnels. Orange Grove Sink is one and Challenge another. And three others, Peacock I, II, and III. Some time ago, the cave entrance at Peacock II collapsed and the area is no longer divable. Peacock III is an advanced cave with tight restrictions and a silty bottom.
Peacock I is our destination today. Another guided dive, a level above my training, at 1/3 gas supply instead of 1/6. This cave is a no flow cave. The spring water does not rush out and thr
ough these tunnels like a raging river and as such it has its own set of difficulties. In a large portion of these caves, the lack of moving water has allowed a thick layer of fine silky silt to cover the cave floor, and the walls are a crumbly porous rock that breaks at the touch. There is a looong low restriction of hard limestone in the center that most divers pull themselves through along the floor. I …. Am special. Lucky me will be allowed to swim through this restriction without touching the floor or ceiling. I am guessing that this dive is a test for me, especially after my rocky if not inconsistent performances so far, to see if I can handle my buoyancy and not silt out my environment. With no flow, in a silt out, this cave is not forgiving and I need to prove this Jersey diver can do this.You walk down a wooden boardwalk path to a set of steps and climb down to a narrow ladder leading into the water. Here, you put on your fins and drop below the steps to the cave entrance. There are two gold lines in this cave and I am to follow the one to the left and the renowned, Peanut Tunnel.
My S- Drill goes more smoothly than it has all week, a marked improvement. I collect my buoyancy as I cannot touch the floor for any reason and the walls are very fragile. I will lead this dive and a three man team of myself, Jim my instructor and Marc, the assistant instructor into the cave.
Staying as close to the ceiling as I dare in a large open tunnel with a rock and silt bottom we move along and onto the restriction which I need to navigate without touching anything and still following the line, not getting tangled in the line and keeping awareness of the rest of my team behind me. No guys, I am not nervous. Jeesh….. I am not just a poker ….. I am THE poker. I touch everything!!!! Don’t they know that!
This restriction goes on forever, I want to blast out of there with a few good fin kicks but know I cannot. And so I creep along, looking about every now and then, and not touching anything. It is killing me.
We finally come out in a tunnel that is much smaller than the ones we have previously been in but still roomy enough to move about. The rock walls are carved out in varying formations and indentations and the lights play across the blackness, reflecting off of the white rock walls. There are twists and turns and the gold line moves from one side of the tunnel to the other as it winds its way deeper into the earth.
Crawling across the silty bottom, I occasionally spot small troglobites, mostly crayfish. Troglobites are albino looking cave dwelling animals that have adapted to no light and have no pigmentation or eyesight and often no eyes due to living their lives in total darkness. I remember the silt and know there will be no poking here and move along. I am watching my gauges and keep thinking, good lord we are going a long way, when I get the signal from behind we are turning around.
As the team turns, I am now the last man in line and am now thinking I have to keep up and not loose the line cause there is no one behind me to get me back on target…..and if I silt this place up ….. I could be here a very long time……
We wind our way back along the tunnels and inch our way through the restriction without touching …… lord knows I wish I was not so special and could pull myself along, I am getting a bit tired here.
At a rock outcropping near the tunnel entrance I am handed the blackout mask and another lost line drill is in progress. I have brought a reel and a spool with me today. Spools are so much harder to foul. Although you can do other things to them ….. like drop them ….. please don’t let me ….. please.
I set my buoyancy a little heavy and search for a rock to tie on to. Having been spun in a circle I have no idea where the line is and with no flow I have nothing to acclimate myself to except rocks. My first tie off does not hold and I find another rock and begin to make my sweep. Nothing and I move a bit more, and a bit more and ….. and….. I find a line! As I am tying my spool off to it I feel it again. Something is not right. It is too thin …. It is… hmmm… I think it is my own line. I have gotten tangled and doubled back on myself. I untie to restart my search.
My mask is handed back to me and we are calling it a day. I am not far from the line, but I do appreciate Jim not allowing me to get frustrated here. I realized my mistake and there will be other dives to practice this more. And this dive…… this dive was great.
On the way out I am to pull the reel another dive team had left behind and asked us to retrieve. With no flow, I had no trouble with my buoyancy, and more importantly….. I did not foul the reel.
We exited into the clear sunlit pool of water after 78 minutes of dive time. We had gone about 1500 feet into the system when the dive was called. It was simply time to get back for us. All this time and distance and we never went deeper than 52 feet. And me, I did good. Real good. I did not touch a thing….. well not until we exited. There was one little fish, give a girl a break!
Passed Basic Cave!!
"We can see what's on the dark side of the moon or what's on Mars, but you can't see what's in the back of a cave unless you go there..." - Sheck Exley
How true is this? I don’t know. I saw the cave, not the back of it, but far enough. And I saw cow butts! Let me begin.
Cow Butts…… this morning on the way to the springs I saw nothing but cow butts. Today will be good.
I covered my fingers in band aids and set up my gear. It was a bit brisk this morning. 43F as I loaded up This morning was better. I knew it would be, and I felt better. I had coffee, plenty of coffee, and Hello Kitty band aids. Life was good.
We entered the water to complete our proficiency for Basic Cave. Again we were at Ginnie Springs and diving the Devils System. Yesterdays weather had stirred things up a bit elsewhere and we happily dove the site here again.
We climbed down the stairs and into the water and began our S-Drills surrounded by small curious fish from the river. I am still a little shakey when restowing my long hose, not quite maintaining my buoyancy, but much better than previous dives, we wont even begin to compare anything from yesterday. I felt so good….. I poked a fish.
Our first dive was in the Devils Eye. We planned our dive and dropped over the edge to the sandy bottom before the eye shaped slit in the rock that is the caves entrance. I led this dive and heading into such total darkness with just the narrow beam of light from my flashlight was a bit eerie. The tunnel has ups and downs and twists and turns and it is necessary to pull yourself along the rocks to make headway against the flow. By the time we reached the main cave and the gold line all but one of my band aids were gone. There are now a slew of Hello Kitty band aids plastered along the ceiling of the tunnel for future cavers to muse at and retrieve as they come across them. Sorry guys.
Once reaching the gold line we check our reel left in from the day before and head on up to the ceiling to get out of the flow and make our way on back. Teamwork is our objective on the way in. Awareness… body, buddy and light. We make it back to the Lips and turn the dive. Although we are concentrating on each other, we are able to relax more this dive and enjoy the cave. There are catfish swimming below us, their whiskers visible from afar in the crystal clear waters, and a never ending line of Mother Natures art in limestone all around.
Coming back to the end of the gold line I retrieve the reel and begin to reel up the line. I can feel all eyes on me waiting for the foul and it doesn’t happen! The flow pushing me from behind has its way with me and I am constantly adjusting myself as I reel in more and more of the line as I move up through the tunnel. Doug is just ahead of me freeing the line from its
placements as we make our way along. We work as a team. Squeezing ourselves out of the Eye and onto the sandy bottom of the river hole we hover doing our safety stop before heading up and into the river where those curious little fish are again waiting. As I make my way back to the stairs I chase after and pull a tail or two. I feel good. It wasn’t picture perfect, but I feel good. The fine tuning in the flow will come with practice, but the rest was good .
placements as we make our way along. We work as a team. Squeezing ourselves out of the Eye and onto the sandy bottom of the river hole we hover doing our safety stop before heading up and into the river where those curious little fish are again waiting. As I make my way back to the stairs I chase after and pull a tail or two. I feel good. It wasn’t picture perfect, but I feel good. The fine tuning in the flow will come with practice, but the rest was good .Dive two was in the Ear. Down the narrow chimney, pulling along the rocks, we make our way down against the springs flow. Doug is leading this time and as I pull myself along the rocks to make my way through the long narrow slit that is the Ear, I have a few minutes of doubt that I can make it. The power of the water is tremendous and my fingers are uncovered and a bit raw. With a few good pulls I am through and hide out of the worst of the flow as Doug ties the reel in. Primary tie in, secondary tie in and then at the gold line and we are on our way. Once more up to the high ceiling, the rocks forming a limestone picture of cathedral shapes as we move along. Coming up to the large side tunnel, Doug once again heads down and I signal him. He catches himself and comes back to follow the line. That’s twice….I think he should carry my tanks for this one…..but alas I know it is only a dream…. and we move forward.
We continue on past the Lips and make our turnaround at the Keyhole. We are signaled for a lost buddy light and then an OOA drill. Doug donates to me and we take a bit of time getting aligned for the trip back but are on our way when both of our primary lights go out. My first thought is that the cover light signal and OOA signal meant a lights out exit while air sharing. I acclimate myself to the flow and make sweeps eventually finding the line. Doug in the meantime has not seen any of the signals and turns on his secondary light as we fin along. We have accomplished two separate drills in one without even trying and are given the signal to break off and continue on. I later asked the instructor if I should have offered HIM my regulator when he gave me the signal as I really have no way of knowing if he is requesting a surprise drill or really out of air …… hmmmmm …… made for some interesting discussion at lunch.
Doug now pulled the line out as we exited with the same issues of the flow beating up his buoyancy, but managing admirably none the less. After collecting the reel from the primary tie in we dumped all the air we could and shot through the Ear and did our best to slowly make our way up the chimney to the Deco Log and our safety stop. The log is kinda cool to sit on. You can lean back and watch your bubbles rush to the surface and into the sunlit river water. Trying to make bubble patterns and rings makes the time move along. FYI…. I cant do bubble rings…. I think that whole thing is just a myth…..
As we clear the rim of the chimney and head on in I again play tag with the curious little fish….. although they are catching on and keeping their distance a little bit better now.
We have pulled our act together and have passed Basic Cave. And this last Dive……it was actually two milestones for me ….. My official passing of Basic Cave AND my 200th dive.
If diving with a Full Cave Instructor, you may dive one level above your training if the instructor feels you are able. After lunch, we are rewarded with such a dive. Basic cave only allows us to dive 1/6 of our gas, thus limiting how far into the system we can get. We have already reached about as far as someone can go on 1/6’s by hitting the Park Bench and now we are going to see what is beyond that.
I have now covered all my achy little fingers with duct tape and before we ever reach the river more than half have fallen off, leaving a little silver breadcrumb trail behind me. I gotta come up with a better way.Our plan is for 1/3’s and we are dropping down into the Ear. Doug leads again and we are on our way. We reach the tie in and make our way up to the ceiling and pull ourselves along. Past the Catacombs Tunnel that has been Dougs navigational nemesis and he is right on target up and over it and moving along the line. On to the Lips and drop some gas as we crawl our way through this low but wide restriction and tap in some air and we are past the Keyhole and moving back. We make it all the way back to the Hill 400 Line before our turn. The places we have reached and things we have seen were not goals nor intentional. We actually had no idea where we in the system were until after we surfaced and asked. We saw some amazing sites and like tourists looked all around. Our shorter dives showing us something new each time we made them, just as this longer one. There are some amazing things just past the little fishes playing in the grass on the sandy river bottom.
My confidence has been restored. I am not perfect but I can do this…..and I will get better. I needed that…..that extra day…….that extra confidence…… tomorrow ……. tomorrow I start Advanced Nitrox and Decompression …… in a cave ……. Peacock One I believe if the weather holds……. Wish me luck.
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