Dutch 2009

A new supply of round tuits has arrived and are available from Mary. Anyone who has been putting off work until they got a round tuit now has no excuse for further procrastination.

Thank goodness none of us needed to get a round tuit. Tuesday’s boat dive with Chris was cancelled, but not to be deterred, a round of diving at Dutch was planned.

I hadn’t been to Dutch yet this year. I missed opening day and the flurry of socializing and diving after a long winters run. Life just gets in the way some times. But it didn’t stop our band of merry divers from partaking of the sun and warm air, uncrowded conditions and what is surely the last of the good spring viz on this day.

Getting up at 2AM to get organized at home and get out, I was actually on time and someone, we won’t say who, was not ready…. Hmmmm.

We are meeting friends old and new. Myself, High Maintenance…. I mean BoomerNJ Chris, Dr. Frnak, Jay (Couped243), John, a single diver we adopted on the spot and Kelli (Scubanicely) who brought chicken! I like her, I don’t care what Frnak says.

As usual we were a mix of gear, tanks and ability and the fact that it doesn’t matter is what I enjoy about this group. As we geared up there was hood whining, and hose problems and someone who did not follow the underoo advice, but he learned. Lots of learning ….. things like weight placement, hose management, recipes for zoo animals and the fact that you cannot lock your keys in the tire well….you need them to open the door to open the well…. as well as it’s not as easy to disconnect the car alarm as you would think.

I clipped on my compass just in case I was called upon to lead, but by the time everyone stopped laughing the car had been locked and so I kept it with me just in case. Where do people hear these stories? Soon we were off with Doctor Directions AKA Frnak, in the lead and our gaggle of divers following behind.

We visited the school bus and then on to the un-named boat with most of us leaving there and heading to the HellDiver Plane. Upon arriving at the plane a quick head count made a conversation with our lead diver necessary. After a brief moment of confusion where Frank thought my gloves didn’t fit and my hands were cold, he did the math and flashed me the “yep! ones missing” sign. As we turned to search for our errant member, through the haze of silt appeared our wayward son, hereinafter to remain in sight.

Our trip back to the docks remained uneventful save a run in with a large speckled trout who insisted on not giving Frank the right of way. A quick smack sent him my way and the obligatory game of chase and poke was on. I won.

The surface interval was pleasant as usual with warm sunshine, plenty of food, good conversation and good natured teasing. A tent with no floor piqued our curiosity and Kelli and I made a quick trip over to say hello and get the scoop. What can I say… it had to be done. Lastly, a quick stop to say hello to Carl and friends and then we were gearing up for our next dive.

This little jaunt took us over the helicopter, past the underwater bushes, around the telephone poles and to the tanker where Frank was found playing with the bathroom sink. I am sure this was strategically placed for future reference before we headed on back in. We had 46F water at 68fsw and about 30 foot of viz….depending on who you were diving behind.

As we stood on the dock removing our fins, we watched as John took some extra water time to practice shooting a bag before joining us topside. Nice job.

While it may not be opening day….. so begins the season. See you in the water….. when I get a round tuit. Maybe I’ll get one for my birthday…. who knows.

The Saga of the Princess Cheryl Wreck Continues

Experience is a wonderful thing. It enables you to recognize a mistake when you make it again. ~ Anonymous

It’s my fault, it’s the karma of the wreck, lobsters don’t get that big being stupid ya know, but we will be better prepared next time…..I am sure of it. Swear it isn’t me, some days just go like that, as do some wrecks, but, I am getting ahead of myself.

"Honesty is the best policy, but insanity is a better defense" ~ Anonymous

.

I am going to be honest here…and tell you the WHOLE story….. as usual.

Howard moved the boat on me….. again. That’s 3 times this year. Call me crazy….but finding the Lady GoDiver is getting suspiciously like a game of Where’s Waldo. This is a whole new marina and he sent me directions …… and then he sent me his cell, just in case….and then he sent John out to the road to flag me down. Good thing cause I’m quick and John didn’t catch me the first time past. This wasn’t just a 2 cuppa coffee morning, I brought a carafe.

The day held promise of warm sunshine and diving. I put out my chair and sat and finished my coffee while the final preparations for the trip were completed, and then climbed onboard. It was still a little nippy as we headed out and as usual, the conversation turned to where should we dive. Surprisingly, the decision was made rather quickly, and….. I even knew where we were going. The Princess Cheryl Wreck from our numbers dive last fall. Woo Hoo!

You remember the Princess Cheryl Wreck…… low wooden walls with cleats and lots of lobsters in the hidey holes…. Engine block and prop with some copper tubing off to the side and John, I mean, UD (as in Unnamed Diver) had 5 lobsters make a successful break for freedom as he laid claim to a gauge of some sort, leaving me to bring back the only 2 keeper lobsters of all 4 dives that day. That Princess Cheryl Wreck.

After making a few passes and not finding our target it was decided to head a little farther north to the Seaside Schooner and try again on our way back.

We arrived on site in with the sun shining but the air still cool and the fun began. With the grace of a ballerina, almost, I executed a Jersey roll off the starboard side and made my way down. The water was crystal clear the first 5 feet and dark thick green after that. As I made my way down the line I could feel the cold of the water. I had only worn 3ml gloves and was regretting the decision already. As I floated down I could sense the bottom was coming but could see nothing but green water and myriads of the stringy egg casings filling the spaces around me. I had neglected to ask the depth, but welcomed the sight of Francis’s blinking line marker as I approached 70fsw along with a clearing of the water to about 15 feet of visibility at the sand.

Francis was just finishing his tie off and I followed after him as we made our way along a wall of broken down, sanded in, wooden ribs. At the beginning was a huge open hydroid and some anomies and soft corals covering a section of the wood and as we moved along small sea bass filled in the nooks and crannies. I poked and prodded with great care to not to stir things up, as Francis was busy with his camera.

Although my computer claimed 44F here on the bottom, my hands were feeling the cold and I signaled Francis I was heading on back. I peeked all around as I made my way back to the tie in, which was on a large boiler broken in two and laying in the sand. As I arrived at the hook, my poor attention span took hold and I chased fish into the boiler and all about and then, further distracted by shiny objects, I rescued a small herd of 8 oz sinkers and bright silver swivel clips.

By this time, Francis was back and we headed on up the line for the boat and hopefully some warm sunshine.

I am a happy camper now that the post is back on board at the ladder. Giving me that last handhold up high makes my way up the ladder so much easier. Topside we snacked and shared information from our dives as we all went in different directions ……… and since we did not, at the time, know the name of the wreck, (I think these guys name them as we go along), there was discussion of dubbing it the QC2 …... I liked that.With everyone back onboard, we headed back south in search for our errant wreck, and this time, we were right on target. As a matter of fact, we hooked into practically the same spot as last fall.

This little gem was still at about 70 fsw and the water held at a pretty Jersey green, with 15 feet of viz and 44F. I had put on my thicker gloves and was feeling much better as we arrived on the wooden walls and I began my search for treasure.

The wall was filled with small fish and a lone sea crab. As I moved along, I ran my new reel off of the wreck and a short distance away came across a really long and large square timber in the sand. This did not look to be part of the same wreckage, but what do I know. A short distance off of this was a small pile of wood fairly sanded in and inhabited by a big old grumpy eel pout. No sense of humor this guy so I moved along.

Heading out perpendicular, there is decking and boards in the sand and as I lifted them, there were several small lobster that took off like shots. They were just too small to chase after so I moved on to the engine block and prop and some big boiler looking thingy. If I was more mechanically inclined I might actually get the names of these pieces right but I am in it for the fish and so I bear with me here.

Tucked in amongst this mess was a lobster with my name on him. Sweet little tattoo on his crusher claw …. a heart with “Cheryl” written on ribbon across the center….. ahhhh. But he played hard to get and so I headed back to the tie in and made my way up the line.

Confidence is the feeling you have before you understand the situation. ~ Anonymous

Howard was the next group going down and I explained how to find my brawny friend. 6 pounder at least and just waiting for him I was sure. He was “confident” he was going to snag that lobster I had left behind and threw himself overboard in his hurry to get there.

I packed away my gear as I awaited the return of Howard and my muscular meaty friend. For some reason, my suit is now leaking at the leg, most likely due to my climbing jaunt through the rocks at the jetty 2 weeks ago, and I seemed to have “lost” Tommy’s screw from the reel…. I’m taking the screw off his and putting it on mine, just don’t tell him. Other than that, I am good.

As we scanned the water we could see bubbles some distance off the line and they stayed in place for quite some time. Howard was obviously doing battle with behemoth boy.

After the official and lengthy pulling of the hook I greeted Howard at the ladder and helped him and his goody bag onboard. His goody bag held a story……no lobsters, but a story ..... there were a few lobsters, of keeping size, but they were dwarfs compared to his original target…… and an all too familiar tale of lobster…..on the Princess Cheryl Wreck….. making an all too successful break for freedom.

All eyes fell to me. This is the second time here…. Hmmmmmm.

I think the lobster just unhooked the bag and walked out….. he is waiting for me ….. he wants just me to lovingly wrap my hands around him and pull him close, placing him in my bag at my side and making him my own. Yup that’s what I think…. We will be going back there…… I am sure of it.

A good book has no ending. ~ - R D Cumming

And so the saga of the Princess Cheryl Wreck continues.

Dive Team Training

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

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.

“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.

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”.

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 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.
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.

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-normous 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.

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 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.

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.

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.

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……

Anyway….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.

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.

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.

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…