Now I See It

...And the sea cucumber turns to the mollusk and says, "With fronds like these, who needs aneomes."

Marlin ~ Finding Nemo

The following day Becky got called into work and I went out once again. This time a young doctor from Germany was looking to get in some diving while visiting and I was tour guide.

On our trip out a pod of dolphins played in our wake and the captain slowly circled for a few minutes making a small arean of wake behind the boat for the dolphins to frolic in while we watched from the deck and drank our morning coffee. As they tired of their fun and moved off we continued on our way.

We were again hitting the City of Washington, and this time I was seeing her from stem to stern. I stepped off the dive platform with my usual grace and form and slowly slid beneath the bright blue water. As I led out we looked around. I followed the slowly deteriorating sides of the ship. Low lying metal walls with distinct breaks showing where she broke apart as they tried to raise her.

There were low jagged walls and what appear to be encrusted bits of debris or machinery with not as many hidey holes as I am used to. Fish swam freely in and out and corals and sponges were taking hold where they please.

While fish abounded, no artifacts were to be found. I fanned for a minute to see if coal lay under the sand but none showed. I would have thought I was on a Jersey wreck if not for the 45 feet of viz and 83F water temps!

And yes. With my good ole Jersey training, I followed the outline of the ship from bow to stern and back, arriving at the anchorline just as I should be.

Our second dive was on a deeper reef called the Minnows. The reef fared better inthe deeper waters and while not in full bloom it was rich in colors and wore a healthy suppy of soft corals and sponges.

Barrel sponges and stagshorn corals were interspersed with brain corals sporting red and green christmas tree worms which love to be poked. really...they told me. Purple sea urchins were nestled in and several "quality" lobster were snuggled against the ledges. Alas there is a season for lobster here and this is not it. I pulled them out anyway...just for practice.

There were swimthroughs in the coral and portions reaching up in the water like towers of a castle dissappearing in the sunlight.

Peppermint shrimp with their longlegs crawled about and queen angelfish swam past. A crayon box of fish small and large skittered about. But alas still no eels. No octopus either. The summer is still young. We will see.

Memorial Day Almost on the City of Washington

Poor is the nation that has no heroes.
Shameful is the nation that has them and forgets.

It is Memorial Day Weekend and while visions of Bar B Q and watermelon, hot days and clear blue water, nekkid ocean diving and good friends danced in my head, I also took time to remember. Remember those who served and those who are serving, those who returned to their homes and families and those who did not. There is a plaque on a monument..... in Tennessee I believe.... it reads....."Poor is the nation that has no heroes. Shameful is the nation that has them and forgets." I believe in that......and I believe in good times and good friends and so I plan to round out my weekend with the latter.... in Key Largo.

Becky is a good friend..... she opens her home, with its two young boys and 3lb dog to me and my 90lb shedding wonder whenever I call.... without question..... good friends are a blessing. She is also almost as good at directions as I am, but more about that later.

I arrive in the evening, a jumble of clothes, dive gear, soda and chips and we awaken the next day to clear blue skies and warm air. I told Becky I wanted to see one of the Keys wrecks.... reefs abound down there but I am missing my Jersey diving. She obliges me with plans to dive the City of Washington for me and a reef for the others. Life is good. Sometimes......

We head out with Garden Cove Divers onto flat seas and light breezes, a day filled with promise and adventure. It's always an adventure when we two get together.

Just to show how truly small the world is, there is a new captain and crew on the boat this trip and they are from NJ, Atlantic Divers I think they said. A small taste of home which I am missing. We talk Jersey diving and divers and soon we are there.

The City of Washington was an iron hulled, masted brigantine ship launched in 1877 and aquired by the Ward Lines for passenger and trade hauling between New York and Cuba.

On February 15, 1898, she was moored in Havana Harbor near the USS Maine when the Maine exploded. The City of Washington suffered some minor damage but sent out its lifeboats to rescue the crew of the Maine. The captain and crew of the Washington testified at a Naval Court Inquiry which concluded the USS Maine was destroyed by a submarine mine which was attributed to Spain and shortly after Congress declared war and thus began the Spanish American War.

She was immediately chartered by the US Army for use as a transport ship for the invasion of Cuba, and paid $450 per day, our tax dollars at work.

In late 1898, the ship returned to passenger service between New York and Cuba and was retired in 1908. She was purchased by the Luckenbach Steamship Line and refitted as a coal barge and on July 10, 1917, the City of Washington and another barge, the Seneca, were being towed by the Luckenbach 4 when all three vessels ran aground near Key Largo, Florida. The other two vessels were refloated but the City of Washington broke up and was not recovered. She now sits in approximately 40fsw, laying in a north south direction off of Key Largo and we were about to dive her.....maybe.

Becky lives and dives in the Keys, a year round wonder of warm clear tropical waters and crayola colored corals and fish. She also has a GPS and a sense of direction akin to mine. With that in mind and the vision in your head of two women who are not yet done with their conversation, giant striding off the back of the boat, you see us entering the water laughing and talking without missing a beat. We slip beneath the water still laughing and signaling as we end our conversation and begin our dive. Becks is in the lead and as I stop to peek and poke I begin to fall behind and swim to catch up. Here lies the anchor chain, still leaning propped upon the metal walls of the wreckage which is broken into groupings of low lying walls and coral groupings.

I give the chain a moment of my time and motor to catch up passing by the most gi-normous conch shell I have ever seen. The size of a basketball..... this little beauty would have given one of Barts moonsnails a run for its money in the ring. I only poked it a little....it was pretty big.

Soon the sides begin to give way to more coral and I wonder why they have been covered so much more here. Actually encased compared to the first pieces we saw. I catch up with Becky and she taps her gauges. We are in water a bit deeper than we should be and she signals up.

We are about 150 yards off the stern of the boat....we should be about 100 yards off of the bow. Hmmmm........ I tell her I am not following her anymore! She is like a bad GPS...... and we can barely stay afloat laughing. But we have plenty of gas and a compass..... Becky has her compass...and takes a heading. I wish there were mussels in Florida.... I wish we had taken her compas and smashed open the mussels and fed the fish. We should have ran a wreck reel. We would have been better off.

Becky is worse at directions than I am if that is at all possible. We looked about on the reefs, taking notice of any damage done by the winters cold spell, seeking out the inhabitants in all their color. As for the reefs, they are recovering slowly. The purples seem to be the color returning first, they are the most abundant. The fish are about, no eels and no shrimp or sea urchins but small colorful fish and the beginnings of soft corals and sponges. BUT.... the water is still getting deeper....

We once again surface and we are now about 400 yards off the stern of the boat, the boat a small dinghy in the distance. Channel markers are nearby, as are fishing boats, no doubtably bait in the water. I search the waterline for signs of a fin while I rattle off my opinion of her navigational skills..... she pees in her wetsuit she is laughing so hard. I wonder if that draws sharks too.

Let me just say.... I have NEVER once in my diving career missed the anchorline. Never once deployed my SMB. Never once had the captain begin S&R for me. I surely was taught better. And here I sit, heading for Cuba, bobbing on the surface in gamefish waters with little Miss GPS. And I pull out my marker and begin to inflate.

We turn on our backs and begin to kick towards the boat, markers flying high. By the time the boat reached us we are once again talking and laughing just as we had been when we first stepped off the dive platform. One big circle from start to finish.

Since Becky works for the dive shop, the captain and crew are convinced we did this on purpose. A test of sorts to see how they would react. How they would handle a diver emergency. We told them no..... it wasn't... but they didnt believe us and we just shook our heads and laughed as we headed out to our next stop, the Fingers just off Elbow Reef.

The Fingers are a series of linear reefs, one after the other, in rows, like fingers of a hand and you follow them like the outline of a glove from one end to the other, up one side and down the other. I led.

And for a third dive we hit a shallow reef not far from there.... and I led again....

Great day on the water, great friends, great adventures..... gotta love it. And someday.... I may even see a wreck out here..... maybe even the City of Washington.

Apprentice Day 3

...There is chamber after chamber, Legolas; hall opening out of hall, dome after dome, stair beyond stair; and still the winding paths lead on into the mountains' heart. Caves! The Caverns of Helm's Deep! Happy was the chance that drove me there! It makes me weep to leave them……-- Gimli the Dwarf from J.R.R. Tolkien's The Two Towers

I am tired of being wet all the time, I am tired of bouncing like a rubber ball as I dive and looking like it’s my first time in the water, I am tired of not getting it right.

We arrive at Orange Grove and suit up to go into the water. I have my primary light back, not that there as any fault in the one I had borrowed up til now. I have dry clothes, not that I am diving dry in my dry suit. And Orange Grove has duckweed. Nuff said.

We enter the water and slip below the blanket of tiny little plants and hover below them performing a respectable imitation of an S-Drill. Moving on down to the jumble of branches marking the front of the cave I shine my light as Lee ties in and follow on behind him to the start of the gold line.

The line wends its way along through tunnels of lacey rocks and fine silt blanketing the floor. We move on and on as we pass line markers heralding the distance we have traveled. 300, 500, 800…… and I am trim and level and diving as I should. As I know I can, as I usually do….. Life is good again.

We move along from high domed rooms to low rocky openings and turn corners and run up and down hills in a roller coaster ride of ups and downs. At one turn the rocks narrow into a long vertical passage opening up into a low wide tunnel.

We are past the 800 foot marker when we turn and make our way back out. I am leading now and stop to run my finger through a long glittering puddle of air on the cave ceiling. I shine my light from side to side taking in the colors of white walls and jagged edges, black sediments of goethite and soft fine brown silt so beautiful to look at but dangerous if stirred.
We fin along the rolling hills and berms occasionally rising up and over and accidentally flicking fin tips in the fin floor covering. But over all…… we done good.

I spend my hang time chasing after little catfish hiding in among the rocks. I am sure no one else pokes them as they get quite the shocked look on their face when I do.

As we rise above the surface of duckweed I struggle with the suction of my fins. I need some silicone spray…… and a freaking DRY dry suit….. but not much more than that.

We are calling it a day. No more dives today but the review sheets, dive logs and final test are still to be done. I have been working on mine…. Lee has not….. I stayed up and pored over the book while someone went to dinner and got his beauty rest…… I am not letting him copy off me…… well maybe… if he carries my tanks….. hmmmmm……

Apprentice Day 2

Two things: 1) Replace safety / jump reels with spools - they are the right tool for the job
2) Your skills will never suck more they do in a cave diving class. Whether it is stress, task loading, a prying instructor's eye causing stage fright, etc. Don't get too down.

~Frank F, Wreck Valley Divers

Today is a cow butts day…. I am about to be blindsided with it as there are no cows out to view but it is definitely a cow butts day.

We are diving at Peacock Springs and I stop at the Dive Outpost and pick up my light, cannot thank Forrest and Fred enough for getting me back in my own gear.I also pick up an elbow and 12inch corrugated hose……I never changed the pull dump on the new wing and it was time…..many thanks to the staff at dive Outpost for getting that changed out for me.

I head on to the park and meet up with Lee and Jim and proceed to put on my dry suit, still wet on the inside from yesterdays dunking.

Our interpretation of an S-Drill is still giving Jim nightmares and we move on down to the cave opening and tie in.

My buoyancy is suffering even more today as I feel the legs of my dry suit filling with air and fight to keep from launching myself places I shouldn’t be.

As we make our turn to exit the cave I am have a communication /buoyancy gaff and find ourselves off the line and on the ceiling. I shine my light down and the line is not there. It is several seconds before we locate it……not a good thing. I am leading and have not gone far when I turn a corner and note that 2 lights are not following me. I see the ends of their light beams flashing in the dark corner and wait…. As I go back to look there is a look as apparently “my buddy was out of air” and I did not get back in a timely fashion to provide some. In real life I would be diving solo at this moment, but in class I get to now provide him with air and as we head on out our lights mysteriously go out and we continue on with a lights out touch contact exit. And we both lived to tell.

Right before the beginning of the gold line, where the cave floor is mostly rock and harder to silt we are stopped and asked “Where’s the line?” Well, dang, its right there I point ……uh uh….. black out mask in place and spun around I am now in search mode. Last time here and performing a lost line drill I doubled back on myself and found my own reel line and then proceeded to foul it so I needed to carry it out in a ball. This time I am happy to report that I found the line, much quicker than I expected and….. my rewound reel was intact and hanging from my D-ring at drills end. Much improvement from last time.

If only my special control would improve also.

As hard as it may be to believe my next dive is worse. My left secondary light pulls from its security band in the low flat tunnel at the beginning of the dive and I place it in my dry suit pocket without clipping it off as I am losing my place in the water column trying to find a place for it on the pockets bungee line.

I spend time plastered on the ceiling and just inches from the silty floor. At one point I am floating up just so out of whack that Jim comes to ask me if I am OK. I bang heavily at the ceiling and am most downhearted that it is getting worse.

I roll left and right, to and fro as I try to move air from my dry suit legs to my valve and from my wing top to my dump valve….. two different areas, tow different motions and I am sure I look like I am having a seizure but the best is yet to come.

As we turn to exit I look at my hand and see the clip has fallen off the light, luckily not a gear emergency…. Maybe.

We haven’t gone far when Jim turns to me and indicates OOA. I immediately try to stick my regulator in his mouth and he shakes his head and points me towards my “airless” buddy….. hey, an honest mistake.

As we exit again our lights go out …..we continue on and I pull my backup light from my pocket and juggle my backup light, holding the hose, touch contact with my buddy and managing my unlit light head I cannot clip off.Jim has a sense of humor. He ends our air share on backup lights exit and asks………”Where’s your buddy?” He’s right…..the little sneaker has his light covered…… and so begins a major misadventure.

I cover my light and do not see my buddies, I swim to and fro and the son of a gun is lost….. Oh my! Look over there, a side tunnel. I should look there. And so I tie off my safety reel, never letting go of my light head and begin to float up. I struggle to stay near the line as I dig in my pocket for a line arrow to mark my spot and place it on the line and now the bungee from my pocket is tangled on the line. I am floating up and attached to the gold line and fighting to stay level and trying to see how my leg pocket has gotten itself entangled. I pull line arrows and a spool, secondary light and some trauma shears and am still stuck. And I still cant let go of the lighthead. The only thing to do is cut the bungee before I am hanging upside down from the gold line by my pocket. But before I do Jim comes over and “unclips me. I wasn’t tangled; he had sneaked over and clipped me to the line.

I check my air and honestly ….. if I don’t find my buddy soon I am leaving him here…. But I make one run out to that side cave to have a look. The drill is called and I reel back in….. safely…. And we continue on. Again at the tie in I am struggling to dump all I can and not float away…..

I am struggling with my fins, soaking wet and have killed off my buddy several times today….. it’s a cow butt day….. dammed cows.

Apprentice Day One

…. They are but hovels compared with the caverns I have seen here: immeasurable halls, filled with an everlasting music of water that tinkles into pools, as fair as Kheled-Zaram in the starlight……..
~ Gimli the Dwarf from J.R.R. Tolkien's The Two Towers

I am back…. Back where the rivers have funky names and the springs run warm and clear into the flowing rivers with sometimes unpronounceable Indian names.

The world is setting itself right again, the frosty Florida winter is gone, replaced by warm sunshine and cooling nights. And I am back, checking cow butts for a glimpse of the day to come.

I stop on my way at the Dive Outpost and spend some time chatting with everyone while Hobie makes himself at home. A dog in a dive shop, not an unusual concept. I am happy to meet Forrest whom I have heard so much about and he shows me his slideshow from Mexico, another thing to add to my bucket list, what a wonderful trip. I torture the workers a bit with questions and my flooded lights and like magic there are bright beams of light and we while away the time as I wait for my 10W bulb to arrive.

Unfortunately, I discover it will not happen til morning and Forrest graciously takes the handful of parts I call a light head and offer to reassemble and have a working light for me when I arrive back and I thank him immensely for his help.

I move on and arrive at the trailer where things are changing, there is a washer and dryer now, a new chair, and air conditioner. But the old familiars are still there too. The showerhead is 8 feet in the air and while someone has stolen the stars off the ceiling, the glue residue is still there and glows if only for a short while. I miss the old stars and the soft glow is somehow comforting.

I awake the next morning and head for Ginnie Springs and day one of my apprentice class. I am not solo for this portion, my classmate is Lee, a quiet soft spoken man and he is in for a ride with my frantic antics and non-stop chattering.

We gear up and hit the water for a shakedown dive. Apparently Lee and I are well matched, we begin with S-Drills that have an unusual look to them as we bounce off of each other simultaneously spinning and claiming OOA. Lesson one….. part of dive planning is deciding who goes first.

We enter through the eye and the flow is kicking….. I remember now, you fight your way in like Wal-Mart on black Friday and ride the flow out like the water flume at the amusement park. Jim has left a reel in and we check it to make sure it is still taut and move on the start of the gold line. I drop my deco bottle and we make our way up to the ceiling.

I begin to pull myself along and feel the rub on my fingertips. I know I am not using my full hand for every pull and will be sorry later but I am struggling to keep up with Speedy Gonzalez in his wetsuit and double 85’s. Each time I tell him to slowdown he does but not enough for these old bones. I am struggling a bit with buoyancy and am just feeling exceptionally light, I know I am not but I am struggling.

We make our way to the Hill 400 line and Jim places a jump reel in and we make our way down the passageway waiting to hit our turn pressure and head on out.

The trip back out is uneventful, I emerge from the tunnel and make the turn for home, the right turn this time…. Last time there I turned wrong, misreading the twisted arrow and not checking the reel clip. This is improvement. Improvement is good.

I still struggle with my trim as we exit and as Lee pulls the reel and as I sit ahead of him waiting, I am plastered in the eye, feeling waaaay too light and trying desperately to dump more air from my arm valve before being shot out like a circus performer from a cannon.
I did not get to sit on the deco log as I spend my hang time still fighting to remain below the water. We rise up and over the lip and head onto the steps and lunch.

I am soaking wet, inside of my drysuit and thoroughly upset with my bouncing buoyancy. I hate Pinnacle and my soaking wet underwear. I do hope they read this. They stink worse than my trim.

The sun is warm and lunch is relaxing and we enter the water again. Skills this dive and again we massacre the S-Drills before heading on down to the eye and flow like an open fire hydrant. We make our way again to the gold line and make our way along to the catacombs.

I am tying a jump reel in and leading our way through the catacombs and out to the gold line again. I am still struggling to remain trim but am not leaving a huge cloud of silt behind me as I feared I would. We continue on to the lips and here we turn the dive and return back through the low dark tunnel as it meanders along with narrow passageways and low wide rooms, the silty rise to a dead end and more tunnels and twisting and turning. I reel on in and upon reaching the gold line I………. remove my reel and clip it off to my left D-ring. Uneventful you say…… you must not remember my ability to foul 3 reels in one dive and having to have my jump reel cut from the gold line last time here. I am jubilant, unfortunately my bouncing up and down was not the result of me jumping for joy. I was still struggling light. I pick up my deco bottle and it helps to have the extra weight as I make my way through the eye and spend my hang on the limb just above the deco log.

My fins stick to my boots with the suction of Hoover vacuum and upon removing my dry suit I pour water from the sleeve before extracting my wet arm. Did I mention how I hate Pinnacle?

I have accepted the fact that I will be wet for the week I am here and hope tomorrow is better for me.

Cave Country for Easter

Well there's a place you really get your kicks

It's open every night about twelve to six

Now if you wanna hear some boogie you can get your fill

And shove and sting like an old steam drill

Come on along you can lose your lid

Down the road, down the road, down the road apiece

~Rolling Stones~

We will not speak of Saturday. The cow butts and cow heads were interspersed and it gave me a bad feeling inside…. one that would manifest itself it utter frustration.

The day was off to a late start, I was annoyed but not deterred and continued on my way. Madison Blue Springs was just “down the road a piece”. After stopping for gas, an act of complete terror for me as this Jersey Girl still does not have the hang of pumping gas, I pulled out into traffic and the back gate of my truck flew open and out fell my dive light into the oncoming traffic.

I was lucky enough to be able to retrieve it, and lucky enough that it was in a protective pelican case, but not lucky enough that it actually survived unscathed, but I didn’t know that…. Yet.

I continued on and arrived at Madison Blue State Park much later than anticipated, “down the road a piece” is farther than I thought. Divers were entering the water as I parked and I never actually made it over to the pavilion where a social and bar-b-q was just finishing up as I stopped to talk at the edge of the spring when the discussion turned to She-P’s and never moved from there.

I did actually try to move, I went to the car to kit up and opened my light case to find the brand new bulb and light head I had just had installed were cracked. No diving for me today.
I moved back to the group of gossiping divers and was offered a lawn chair and sat down to while away the afternoon meeting new people, putting faces to old names and greeting the few divers I already knew.

Soon the day was coming to an end and it was time to move on. I was diving the next morning with a new friend, Russell, and he had no clue what an adventure he would be in for.

Heading for the dive shop where I planned on replacing my backup lights which had “somehow” flooded, we hooked up with Polly and Bob who we would be sharing a trailer for the night. They were staying the week and came prepared stay in and relax at night, but Bob was soooo easily swayed….I know this may be hard for you to believe, but I have never had Bar-B-Q. I thought bar-b-q was sauce but was forthwith educated on the finer points and we headed out for the anointed place of my initiation to this southern treat.

Nothing is close here… nothing…. It’s all “down the road a piece”. You can read a book or rebuild a regulator in the time it takes to “run out” to a restaurant. But we arrived and settled in to make our dinner choices.Apparently there is no other choice for the bar-b-q part but pork, anything else just isn’t bar-b-q, but sides are a different story and things like mashed potatoes, slaw and fried corn are up for the choosing.

After filling ourselves with dinner, finding our way back to the trailer was almost like a Lewis and Clark expedition in the old west. We ended the night sitting around the fireplace in the trailer living room yapping away to the wee hours (gotta love dive trailers) and then we settled in for a wee bit of sleep before our leisurely late morning start. Gotta love caves, they don’t know time of day, always there and always dark.

It didn’t take much arm twisting to convince Bob he didn’t want to eat in but grab something out and head for the first dive site, Little River.

Little River is located on the Suwannee River and when river water is low, spring water will run through, forming a "little river" of clear water that you can see through the darker river water.

After entering the cave you descend a corkscrew shaped tunnel to reach the cave system which levels off around 100 ft.

The flow is generally high and you work your way in and drift your way out. The system is basically one tunnel, with only a few offshoots and bypasses, and with a split that meets later on in the Florida Room and the passage continues on.

There was only one backup light at the shop and the second is on order to hopefully arrive by Friday and Russell is good enough to fill out my light shortage with a spare backup light and his extra 10W primary. Much thanks to him for that.

May it also be noted that part of my early morning dilemma yesterday was picking up my doubles from being VIPed at the shop and discovering they had reassemble them backwards. We will be revisiting there and discussing this. But moving on…..

Polly and Bob hit the water first and we were dropping a cookie and using their tie in. Russell gave me a rundown on the system. Turn left right inside the entrance you and drop down to the gold line and then descend a corkscrew tunnel about 360 degrees to the cave floor and move on.I still haven’t mastered the special distance of “down the road a piece”, maybe I never will but I keep trying. We enter the cave with me leading, I turn left, see the line and a drop off, I unclip and stow my O2 bottle under the ledge and drop a cookie on the line and move to drop over when I notice Russell giving me strange looks. He grabs my cookie off the line and continues on.

There is apparently another 40 yards to go here “down the road a piece” before hitting the gold line and where we want to be. We hit the rebar spike starting the mainline and he drops my cookie on it and we head out.The walls are all lacey rock with the look of swiss cheese and holes everywhere. The passage narrows and widens and I look mostly at the floor trying to find my next hand hold. The flow is pumping here but no worse than Devils flow and I pull along but am constantly floating as if I am light and struggling to stay level in the water.

The passage is low and I don’t have the height to rise up and get out of the flow of water pumping against me. I know there is no way I need more weight but am fighting to dump air and not bounce off the ceiling and loose my grip as I pull and glide along. I stop to breathe, slow myself down, regroup and catch my buoyancy, and move forward once more. I am just not feeling the love. Do I continue on and fight past it or turn and head out to try again later.

I pull ahead a little longer and give the signal to turn. How on this dive I managed to lead on the way in AND on the way out is beyond me…. It was just one of those dives. Riding the flow out I am still struggling to not bounce off the ceiling but I can now shine my light along the walls and see what I might have missed on my way in. In the struggle of this dive I had dropped my cookies and pick them up on the way out and grab the lone cookie from the line. I pick up my stage bottle and hang for my mandatory stops before heading on up to the surface and the steps. What the freak is it about cave diving and steps! There are ALWAYS freaking steps… and they are always going UP! ARRRGGG!

Well, apparently my education in cave country is quite lacking. I have never been to the Luraville Country Store and I have never had a slaw dog. Again Bobs arm is twisted and we head on over to lunch. Slaw dogs and dill pickle chips. Another cave country staple and interesting to say the least.We relax at the picnic table eating and talking and soon we need to move if we are going to get in a second dive today. We head on over to Peacock Springs and Orange Grove, another new cave for me.

The Peacock Springs State Park is the only Florida State Park dedicated almost exclusively to cave diving. The cave diving community supports this status providing continued support for improvement of park facilities.

Orange Grove and Peacock are two cave systems accessible at this site with interlocking passageways that meander on for thousands of feet in distance while generally quite shallow in depth.

Orange Grove Sink is the most upstream portion of these systems and consists of Orange Grove Sink, Orange Grove and Lower Orange Grove.The cavern is actually located below the cave entrance and from the cavern which goes to about 100 ft, you access the Lower Orange Grove system which is a silty advanced cave system reaching depths of about 180ft.

Again Russell explains the lay of the system and mentions that I can kick up a hellacious amount of silt in here if I bounce around. Who? Me? After that last shining example of my abilities. I wonder myself.

We hit the stairs…surprise huh? And survey the bright green carpet of duckweed. Just shoot me now. Duckweed, one more little ditty to deal with and Russell makes quick work of shoving it all my way as it appears he is not a fan of it either. As I sink down into the dark green water I am slurping wet air. There is undoubtedly some duckweed jammed somewhere in my reg and I am hoping to dislodge it before reaching the cave entrance and having to turn back. I purge. blow and shake the whole way down and finally am breathing dry as we enter the cave. Sludge with an Umlaut, don’t ask, ties in while I get myself neutral and we pass by Larry and Marcy as they exit and we head on in.

We make our way down the passages and I am much more comfortable this time and better trimmed. I keep looking behind to see if I am kicking up a trail of silt and am happy to report, if it was there…. It wasn’t me. Again we travel among limestone rock walls. Not as lacey and crumbly looking as the walls at Little River but the look is there. The rock floor gives way to a carpet of silt and while the ceilings are not looming high above me they seem to be a bit higher this dive. I have not seen any fish or the white crayfish that nestle deep inside these caves, never seeing the light of day, and it bothers me that I am not having anything to poke. That’s just not right. We soon turn to make our way out, the reel is pulled and we head down to the cavern to look around. Just lying in among the rocks I see a loose stone with the fossil of a scallop shell emblazoned on its side. I pick it up and marvel at it a moment before laying it down again among the jumble of rocks and moving on father in to the cavern and the nooks and crannies it has to explore.

In among the rocks is the entrance to Lower Orange, a deep dark silty hole that seems to go on forever. Maybe a peek farther down, maybe not, maybe. Not. So much more here I haven’t seen and I move along looking about and enjoying the sights around me.

We soon head on up and emerge through the blanket of duckweed, I poke it left and right but to no avail. It must be alive, it keeps coming back at me like curious cunner when you open a mussel. I am still removing it from my gear, car, clothes, rugs….. Help! I think it is multiplying!!!!

I say my goodbyes, to Russell, Marcy and Larry, Polly and Bob, Rueben and others I have met this weekend…. I have a long ways to go to get home…. It’s “down the road a piece".

Hudson Grotto

A Grotto is an internal organization of the National Speleological Society (NSS). They generally function as the local NSS chapter/club. Many Grottos however, operate in areas outside of their local area, with many operating in several states. ...Wikipedia

Probably not what I am looking for

A Grotto is any natural or manmade cave near water or flooded or liable to flood at high tide that is associated with historic or pre-historic human use…… Wikipedia

More like it.

Hudson Grotto. I have not an idea on god’s green earth what a grotto is……and yet I offer to spearhead a social at one…….

So I Google….. I get several definitions, some sorting through is required, and one question lingers……

Hmmmm….. so is there coffee?

Much coordination and buffoonery goes into planning this event. People hem and haw regarding the merits of diving the cold waters. Who knew this grotto defies the laws of nature…. The bottom is spring fed and 72F and according to everything I have ever learned….. heat rises and therefore the warm water should extend to the surface right? Sorry must have hit my head and forgot where this was…..

We now approach the date and have been adopted by Scuba West Dive shop and have diving passes, a grill, a scuba cake and prizes. Much thanks to them and to Boats (Todd) who helped with all this.

We also have our divers who include a pair getting up 5 hours early and waiting patiently in the parking lot to begin, our foreign national who is unsure if she is bringing Ketchup or is expected to whip up a batch of catsup, Pinky of Pinky and the Brain fame adding chocolate doughnuts and begging to dive Sherpa the event, a Halcyon backplate and wing bringing sausage kabobs and one diver who refuses to leave Arizona and attend a social until it gets warmer here. Gotta love Florida, its’ never dull.

I awaken early morning with a booming headache but know I have to pull it together and get moving. Three hours later I have it under control and am on my way.

I arrive at Scuba West and sign in and Pinky grabs my tanks and tosses them into a cart heading for the water and hauls up my gear tote leaving me to carry my coffee and an inflator hose. I could get used to this.

When I arrive at the pavilion, there are chocolate doughnuts to go with my coffee, a grill is at the ready with coolers lined up next to it and a row of tables laden with plates, condiments and a really cool cake in the image of a beach. Saaaweet! I have to plan stuff more often.

Everyone is getting ready to dive and I begin to set up my gear. There is one small problem. I am 3 feet too short for the gear table. I assemble my gear, add the inflator hose, climb into my drysuit with just shorts and wool socks when I feel a gear issue erupt. My redundant buoyancy corral management system has disengaged. I seek out MissD for immediate assistance and the first of quotables for the day is uttered. After several minutes of silence and lack of movement I hear “Oh! I thought you wanted me to look down your pants”. Heads snap up and in a moment laughter erupts. This will be in my dive report.

I make my way over to my rig and slide an arm into the harness. I cannot jump up high enough to catch my other arm and drag a chair over for assistance. I hear a murmur from EANdiver… something to the effect of “this has emergency room written all over it”….. and slide into my harness. I jump down from the chair now hanging from my rig and pull it forward hoping not to be flattened face first as it plummets towards me. Life is good and I survive. But they definitely need to cut the legs off that thing.

As I pass by FlyingVisit, she is getting a bit of assistance gearing up and all heads snap up as we hear Boats proclaim “I’m not sticking ANYTHING between her legs!” Laughter again erupts as his face reddens and someone else hands Maz her crotch strap. Another one for the report for sure.

We make our way towards the water and climb in. A little help from Skim and my errant mask is there and I am ready to conquer the quest for poker chips. Chips have been laid along the walls of the grotto for finding and turning in for prizes. Super little touch and thanks again to Scuba West and Boats.

We descend the line and make our way into the cool dark waters, 61F to be exact. There is a platform at about 20 feet and we regroup, adjust our buoyancy and head on down to a line that runs the perimeter of the cavern at about 30 feet. Following this along there are ragged limestone walls, settled with silt and in the larger of the indentations sit amusing little oddities to gawk at as you pass by. A tree is with large branches is perched in one corner and we follow past it as it sits hauntingly still with branches outstretched waiting to snang anything that comes too close. As we move along I spy a chip and grab it and place it in my drysuit pocket. After this I move outward a bit to allow others to peer about and find some chips too.

After the first traverse we follow on down to about 60 feet and repeat the traverse with new and different outcroppings and ledges dispersed along the walls. There are Buddhas and gnomes, deer other little ditties in these alcove like indentations also. And you muse as you pass and see each one.

Below this level the grotto goes deeper to about 100 feet and has a well like indentation going even farther down. We don’t continue on as the wetsuit clad divers are starting to chill now and so we go on up to what we hope is sunshine and the smell of chicken on the grill.

As we remove our fins and prepare to climb out of the water the local residents swim all around us. There are catfish….. really big ones and snapping turtles, one is going undercover with a full coating of flowing green algae covering his shell. Many smaller fish dart in and out …..this is a poking heaven.

We arrive at the pavilion and Mc Loving has arrived freshly out of work, minus his gear…. Oops….. and we are joined by a new face Spectre and his sidekick Beanie. She spends the afternoon feeding hotdogs to the turtles and bread and icing to the fish in that kind of child wonder and fun that makes you smile. We all take a turn going over to watch.

Lunch is grand and my thanks to everyone who helped. Pinky’s wife makes excellent pasta salad and MissD the chicken was great. There were hotdogs and hamburgers and HAL does make a tasty kabob.

We sit and eat and talk and laugh and the time goes all too quickly. A group plans one more round in the water and in they go as the rest of us sit and continue to chat. Our 2:00 or 2:30 planned departure extends toward 4:00 as we slowly load up and prepare to leave.

We will do this again. And my thanks to everyone who helped with this and made me look good. And to Pinky who had lugged my gear in the beginning of the day…. I have to tell you as I was carrying my tanks to the lot, he offered to take them, but I said no, I have ‘em….. he was carrying his purse and 2 tissues, he had enough to handle……. His legend will live on. Takes all the pressure off of me.

Hot Buttered Lobster

Ingredients:

· live lobsters
· boiling salted water
· melted butter

Preparation:

Bring a very large kettle of salted water to a rolling boil.
Using long tongs, quickly but carefully lower live lobsters into the boiling water.
Simmer for about 10 minutes, or until lobsters are bright red.

Serve with melted butter for dipping.

I arrived among a flourish of running children and small and large dog scrambling on bright tile floors…. Bedlam at its best…..

The plan was to rest the evening and in the morning…..dive, dive, dive.

As I arrived, Becca, who has had some computer troubles lately, was trying desperately to get some much needed help in Key Largo from a computer guru in India to no avail. While she set out dinner I had a heart to heart with our friends overseas and got things moving along and by the end of the evening we were sorted out and kicked back just relaxing and gabbing away…..

Morning comes too quickly and we load up and head out for the Garden Cove Diver boat. It is the last of the lobster season and a small group of us are heading out so see if there are any left after the frenzy of the season. Our boat, a 36 foot 6 pack, offers ample room to spread out gear and relax for the ride. My DIN dilemma is quickly sorted out with the removal of plugs from several adaptable valves and we are on our way.

Today Becky is trying her new Hollis regulator and I am taking a pair of HOG fins on their maiden voyage. The air is warm, such a pleasure after our strange and cold winter, but the water still cool. There are three of us diving and we each opt for a different suit trying to figure out the best option for the day.

Scott has chosen to layer his 5ml and vest with a skin for good measure. I am going straight 5ml and Becky has chosen a 3ml with added hooded vest. Time will tell.

The captain has suggested we try one of the lesser hit reefs as lobster season is coming to an end and many spots are now picked over. We stretch out leisurely on the deck as we head out.

I have heard stories of the damage this past winter to the waters. Fish kills of tropicals that were just not prepared for the temperatures the waters dropped to. Turtles in distress and turtle rescues of numbers so large that wading pools were put in rooms to accommodate them all. Eels of bright green, blackened and washed up on the beaches and coral….. beautiful colored coral, turned dead and gray. It will take time for the waters to recover. I wonder what I will find. Any fish to poke, bright colors to distract me, polka-dotted lobsters with no claws waiting to be grabbed….. hmmmmmm.

We arrive at our first site and the captain moors us between four coral patches. Each offers a different opportunity to poke around and find the elusive hot buttered lobster…. Well not buttered yet maybe, but they will be.

We kit up and stride off the stern platform. Scott first, followed albeit slowly, but followed by me and then Becky, who hit the water with an…. “Oh My!” The look on her face told it all….. she was back on the boat much quicker than we ever got off and pulling my 3ml over her already layered suit. He second water entrance was followed by a huge grin…… much warmer .... and we were off. The water is a cool 72F and a thick dark color. Only about 30 foot of visibility here but we are not to be deterred.
.

Scott was taking pictures and we were hunting and keeping track of each other proved difficult. But not as difficult as finding the elusive hot buttered lobster.

At the tie in was a small coral head very easily described….. 3 feet tall, 2 branching corals and a tiny lobster hiding in a hole. Sing that to the tune of the 12 Days of Christmas…. It grows on ya.

We swim out to one of the larger coral heads. There is much more gray than I want to see but we do see sponges and branching corals holding firmly in place. Tube worms are scattered about with feather duster looking arms waving in the current. Hiding in amongst the structure are some temptingly sized snappers but alas Speargirl has no spear and a poke with my finger is the best we can do. We swim all about looking over and under but no lobster are to be found.

We move on over to a second spot and check below the coral ledge but still no lobster. Some black tetra are about and yellow butterfly fish, but no lobster. We swim around to the far side and there in a tall coral formation are two long thin antennae poking out from a hole. I make a grab and come up with only antennae and I try diligently to ease them down and out of the hole but come away with no luck. I suddenly feel something bounce off of my arm and as I look down I see a small lobster shoot for the hole with my little friend and Becky in hot pursuit. We look at each other and Becky motions tiny. They were both too small to keep and the thrill of the hunt was the best we would get so we moved on to try again. As I again round a corner Becky is trying to tickle out something from beneath an outcropping and she motions "big" this time, but his hiding hole is too far back and he too lives another day.

We head on back to the boat for a little warm sunshine and a new tank.
With dives this shallow we are not taking a surface interval but still manage to hang about and talk a few minutes before going back in. We vow to keep better track of Scott and we all step back into the water one by one.

Our third site is similar to the first two but still no lobster and Scott has run out of things of interest and motions to move on to the next site and we follow. We still find no lobster and spend our time looking diligently while pointing out things of interest for Scott to take pictures of.

Different fish are hiding amongst the corals, a large ray lies nestled in the sand, but no lobster. As we look about we find sea biscuits laying at the reefs edges and French grunts swim past. One of those ugly fish that looks like a rock hides nestled in the reefs edge. I think they are toad fish but they sure look like rocks to me. There are pink sponges that look like fingers made from playdoh and large spiny sea urchins peek from crevices daring you to stick your hand there to check about. Looking high and low for the elusive lobster, as we come around the ledge we lose Scott once more.

We go back up and over and look all about but to no avail and so up we head to look for either him or his bubbles at the least. On the surface we scan the water but see no sign of him. We checkout the boat in the distance….. quite the distance, we have swum out really far. And so we opt to surface swim back and watch for Scott to pop up looking for us. We lie on our backs and kick our way along while talking away about past dives and friends and family. We see no sign of Scott but pass over white coral heads reaching near the water’s surface and expanses of dark green water. As we look behind us the boat is still a fair distance away and we question our wisdom of swimming back but continue on.

As we approach the boat the captain calls out that Scott is already there, having swum beneath us undetected in the limited visibility the water offered today. Hmmm……

Our third dive was to be a drift and I was to be charged with carrying the flag.….. I am still new to them …… they will learn. The captain lines us up on the stern swim platform and one by one we enter the water vowing to keep together this time.

This reef is larger and has more life on it, corals of all shapes and sizes protrude as we swim past. Wavy fingers of multicolored corals and sponges.... some look like they are covered in a brown fur and others are bowl shaped. Large heads of brain coral spatter the scenery while star corals with their little tiny florets covering them are interspersed. Again we come upon a huge ray half buried in the sand. His wingspan is well larger than my arms can extend and his eye follows us as we move past but not a muscle is moved.

Our last site I was so intent on my search for lobster I didn’t really take in all the reef had to offer and barely noticed the fish and scenery but here I moved along like a tourist. Juvenile hogfish swim past and a huge grouper is nestled amongst the jutting reef structure. Many more sponges and corals are here. There are sheet corals layered one atop the other and sea fans sway in the current held fast to the reef with bright purple base. Small puffer fish hide in the reefs holes and rainbow parrot fish swim in and out.

The reef structure is much higher here and in some places natural bridges form swim throughs for fish and divers alike. The flag carrying diver can’t go through them…. Don’t ask why I know.

Queen angels swim regally along, disappearing in a cave like hole and reappearing a short while later. Damsel fish and blue tetra swim about, while butterfly fish and more parrotfish scurry past.

We are soon ready to surface. Three dives and we are starting to feel the cold. Time to call it a day. We all three surface, together, and the boat comes to pick us up.

We ride in eating oranges and snacks and soaking up the sun. Hot buttered lobster…. Wish I had some……but I don’t …. there is always next season……. and I enjoyed the day none the less. A burger and sweet potatoe fries at Mrs. Macs and my day is complete.

Rebecca loves her new regs. The way they breathed and the easy set up…they are her primary now. My fins…. Not a fan. The pocket too deep and the top edge flat across instead of curved made me uncomfortable and dug into the top of my foot. The spring straps on one fin swiveled around and came off on one side each time I removed them at the ladder. I didn’t even use them the third dive, I swapped them out from my old fins. I will keep on looking.

Diving in New Jersey

Earth hath more silver, pearls, and gold,
Than eyes can see or hands can hold.
Yet the treasure I want so dear,
I can neither see nor hold or make seem clear.

~ Anne Bradstreet
They say you can’t go home….. I am not so sure that is true……

It was cold in Florida….. So I did what any red-blooded displaced Jersey Girl would do. I packed up and headed north for some good old Jersey diving. I arrived just in time for the snowstorm of the month.

My ride, the LadyGoDiver, my buddies for the day, Captain Howard, Francis, Bart the Moon Snail Master, and Captain Stan.

As we wait for the last of the outgoing tide to clear the dock so we can load onboard, Bart jumps up and clears the snow from the deck.

The heater fires up and we head out of the inlet on gently rolling seas and contemplate where to go.

The wreck of choice is the Bell Holder. Now, a lot has happened since the last time I dove this wreck. The Bell Holder is no longer the wreck where they found the bell holder but not the bell. The bell has since been found and now it truly is just the Bell Holder.

As usual there is always something……things always happen….. like someone forgets their fins when they jump in…… you know …..things ……(was Bart this time....not me!)

I suit up and make my way over to the port side, place my knee on the gunwale and launch myself over the side…..such grace……. I’ve still got it.

There is a strong surface current and one by one we are towed forward to the anchor line and we descend.

The water is dark and green, almost a jewel tone, and thick with egg casings. Millions of them floating all around. As I reach the wreck at about 62fsw, I tie in and head out. This wreck is familiar to me and I look about to see what changes may have been made with this crazy winter weather. I am heading towards the bow to look for my friend the resident eel. He is always there but I am thinking this strange season may have forced him out to deeper water to keep warm and I am right. His little home is empty….the blinds are pulled, the lights are out and his mail is piling up.

Not much else has changed. There is still the long mast like wood jutting out into the water. It is taking a beating and I can see the signs of deterioration showing on its length. The walls are covered in assorted corals and anemones; it all just awaits the return of sea life with the warming of the waters.

My fingers are starting to feel the cold of the 38F water, I use 5ml gloves because the 7ml are just too thick for me, but I don’t want to leave just yet….and so I continue on. I see no fish around and the visibility is only about 5 feet so I peer closely as I move about. There are starfish in the sand. Not huge ones, not tiny ones, but a respectable supply of midsized ones. With no fish to poke I have to settle for poking the lonely stars laying scattered about. I am just making sure they are still with us and not frozen solid. Hey….someone has to check on these things, inquiring minds want to know.

Shells choices are limited. The only ones I see are clamshells…….hundreds of huge empty clam shells lay piled against the wreck, pushed in with the working currents of the season. As I move off a bit into the sand to see if anything is unearthed I see the definitive ridges in the sand showing the waters movement but not much else.

I am approaching 30 minutes and freezing fingers and remember that Bart is off collecting sinkers and Stan is digging for gold, time to go up and see if they have had any luck.

It is a cold hang on the line but I do and float watching a gazillion egg sacs float past. Sadly they remind me of snot and I am not imagining new little friends to poke. Just elongated jellied sacs encompassing a round brown spot. They practically block out the green of the water. But I work to look past them and can still make out the emerald green color so familiar to me.

As I climb the ladder I have hooked my reel to my scooter ring and my fingers just don’t want to work the clip. Bart reaches down and grabs the reel and I climb onboard with a soggy thump.

A few minutes of warming in front of Wall-E (swear the heater on board looks just like the robot from the movie) and I am ready to hear how everyone did. We had navigational glass, a brass valve and antique sinkers, lobster and other goodies. Life is good.

We head over to our second site, we are going off shore to look for some better viz and heading for the Cobblestone Wreck, another familiar site. As we make our way out hoods and gloves sit steaming around the heater. A close watch is kept on all to prevent the annual melting of the dive gear and we do good.

As we get ready for dive #2 some of us fall by the wayside……it wasn’t me that said Stan wimped out….but he did. Others of us launch ourselves into the sea. The current is still cruising along and we are still getting rides to the anchor line.

I drop down and note that the water is clearer, about 15 feet of viz, not as many egg sacs, not quite as green, and a whole degree warmer at 39F at 87fsw. I hit the wreck and reach for my reel. There is a decent current on the bottom this time and I plan to hug the wreck. Do you remember Bart taking my reel on the ladder? Me neither. Doh!! No biggie, I just locked on to Bart’s line and followed it out till I found him. I began rooting around as he did and while Bart found sinkers and other treasures, I found an odd piece of wood and a long metal spike.

As he reeled on in, I trailed behind looking for things to poke and again found no fish out and about. The cold kept this dive shorter and up we went. To the boat and the warmth of Wall-E.

Upon surfacing I still had my spike in hand but the piece of wood I had carefully balanced in my pocket was gone. And Stan wouldn’t jump in and find it for me …… go figure…..

As it turns out my spike isn’t brass (I still don’t believe it ) but if I paint it up pretty and give it a story…… no one will ever know.

A tiny crab is found in among the days treasures and offered to me to poke…..alas he is frozen solid and putting him too near the heater produces grilled crab.


We are making a third stop today on the Stanley H., a new set of numbers, and throw out a buoy as Captain Stan shows us his boating skillz. Without a doubt…… “THAT was going in my dive report”……

This site shall be revisited…… there may or may not be any gold bars, if I told you they would have to kill me…. Really….they told me that…… and we brought up none of the silver and china this trip…. Just too cold and tired at this point. I am sure Howard marked where the 12lb lobster sat on the porthole through which you could see the safe and what appeared to be the outline of a bell. He will be going back….. true story…. Will just have to save it for another day……..

We caught up on the local gossip and revisited past trips, ate cookies and smiled a lot….. it’s what diving is all about, at least for me. Good times, good friends, good dives…… you’re not rid of me yet. I will be back. I love diving in New Jersey, it's good to be home......

Devils Den

These Florida people LOVE their initials. They have initials for everything. They say “went to DS and NPR”. I have no clue….. But I will become one of the gang …. I will use initials…. From now on I will say… Them F people LOVE their initials. They have initials for everything….. it just seems wrong….. but when in Rome…..ahhhh

And so you F people….. here is my dive report

Devils Den with the Two F Gentlemen

l got up very early….. just let it be known….. but Skim was driving and as long as I didn’t get lost trying to find him he would get me to the dive site……

And so my morning begins….. feed the dog, pack the car and off I go to find the parking lot of choice. We were going to Devil’s Den. Cave country is officially flooded and cold air and strong winds have made diving scarce in these parts and a day at the springs was in order.

Devils Den is a karst window, an underground spring, inside of a dry cave which the ground overhead has opened up, exposing the water to the outside world above.

This is no small cave with a little sump inside. The water surface extends approximate 170 feet, end to end and the sump is shaped like an inverted mushroom, with the edges extending out beyond the water’s surface. The rock around these extended edges hold myriads of ancient fossils embedded in the limestone walls and 4 cave entrances.

In the mornings, on a cold day, when the cold air meets the constant 72F water, steam rises from the surface and it is said early settlers seeing this “smoke” believed this to be a direct sign of the spring being connected to the Devil and a gateway to Hell, thus giving it the name, Devil’s Den.

This is what you see….. What you don’t see are the 4 caves extending beneath the pools surface. These are blocked off by a latticework of plastic piping and rebar or grim reaper signs stating nothing beyond is worth dying for.

It is down the passage known as Chamber 3, at approximately 70 feet that there have been discovered the remains of extinct animals from the Pleistocene Age over 2 million years ago including a salamander, some anurans, a slew of turtles, an alligator, a lizard, and a bunch of snakes and along side of these the bones of early man from over 75 thousand years ago.And this is our playground for today.

Brian drove and we made it to the dive site without detour or drama….. well maybe a slight detour through the Mickey D’s drive through… which left Chris yearning for Cinnabuns the whole day.

We arrive at Devil’s Den and pull into the loading zone. A quick trip to the potty and my 2 nights in shining armor are….. gone. We all know my amazing directional abilities. The area we are in is at the back of the office and I walk down the road, through the grass, over the fence, down the path, through the gate around the side and in through the sliding door to be greeted by a pleasant gentleman who asks “are you diving with the other 2 guys? They just left” and he opens a little door and lets me out the back of the building 20 feet from where I started. And are my two little gentlemen escorts standing there awaiting my arrival? Noooooo…. Like Pinky and the Brain they are off plotting more confusion for my day.

We unload the truck to picnic tables near the Den entrance. I lug tanks, bags and a crate full of dive gear….out of which falls a 2lb soft weight. Pinky, who is carrying a small gym bag, the size of a Kate Spade purse, and an empty coffee cup, picks up the weight and like a true gentleman….. gently places it atop my oversized load. I can’t thank him enough… really… I try, but I can’t.

We suit up in the brisk morning air… the gentlemen into the chilly neoprene of their wetsuits, and I, with sweats intact, into my dry suit……hehehehe…..

You enter the Den through a vine covered narrow passageway, down a steep narrow set of stone steps, arriving in a huge cavern of limestone rock etched out over eons of time with cracks and nooks and crannies, and long stalactites dripping from above. A low narrow archway leads to even steeper wooden steps going down to the water.

Did I mention steps….. like a gazillion o f them….. I let Brian go first…just in case… so I have something soft to land on. This all leads to a wooden platform at the waters surface. From here, as you gaze up and around at the ancient rock formations lining the walls you see the beams of light center stage coming from the moss and vine framed opening above. It truly is beautiful and impressive.

We pull on our fins and masks and slip beneath the water’s surface. Here the water is dark and clear and we turn on our lights to explore what lies beneath. Well some of us do….others are still perfecting that on off thing……

There are limestone rock formations at every turn and in several places huge rock pockets form long swim throughs as we circle the sumps walls. There are deep dark pockets to peer into and we have been forewarned entry of any of the caves of jutting off the main room is not allowed. They are truly inviting and I do take a peek. The upper cave entrances have signs blocking their entrance; one a grim reaper and one just don’t go here sign. The lower caves are blocked with a matrix of rebar and plastic piping.

And… there are fish. Great big catfish and little bitty perch and teeny baby fishies….. all just itching for a game of chase and poke. As I circle around I stick my head in all manner of crack and crevice, shining my light into the darkness, sometimes seeing the rounded rock walls meet the sandy silty floor and other times just seeing the narrowing of the passages as they funnel into nothingness.

All along the walls are fossils, hundreds of them, embedded in the stone. Sand dollars and shells of all shapes and sizes…… millions of years old….older than my 3rd grade teacher even….. you just move along and they follow one after the other and you can reach a finger out and touch what was such an unfathomable long time past.

After an hour we head up and clamor atop the platform and ready for the long walk up…. you know it’s really far….. you know there are 57 stairs…… uphill stairs…..all of them….every last one of them….

We sit outside as the sun peeks its way out. It doesn’t really warm up but the brightness is welcomed. We eat chips and talk diving and all manner of things as we while away the time between dives. And as the time for dive two approaches, my companions begin to waiver in the chill February air. What is up with this weather F people…. Who did you guys piss off? Ahhhh, but in the end they manup and don their frigid wetsuits and rush to the warmth of the cave and spring water.

We plan on only a short dive…..just check things out once more and then we are heading home to heat pumps pumping and big screen TV’s and that super bowl thingy….. but for now, just once more around the dance floor. Nooks and crannies, little fish just out of reach, shimmery puddles of air caught against the overhead rock just waiting for a finger to come along and swirl them back into tiny bubbles floating up into the water. Deep holes and lacey openings leading to who knows where and remnants of days gone by. All in this little cave half filled with water, that looks like the land that time forgot.

Our dive is done and all that is left is the final climb back to sun and civilization. A climb up the narrow rickety stair case. Did I mention steps….. like a gazillion o f them…..

We load up the truck, I slip into my rig, grab 2 more tanks and someone takes his little gym bag and a tissue and we load up the truck and are soon on our way home. Did I mention my home has no steps…. Home Sweet Home…….