inter_alia
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A long trip report about High Springs, Blue Grotto, Paradise Springs, Devils Den and Morrison. There are also bits on flooding, Lloyd Baileys and my fathers descent into the DIR-curious.
The idea was simple: load up my new Honda Element with our scuba gear and hightail it to High Springs one day. We figured we could get in Troy, Ginnie, Blue Grotto, Devils Den and also (this was the most interesting part to both of us) random smaller springs around that area of Florida. With the car as our base, just drive around with some good maps and figure out where to don and splash. We would not touch an interstate. We would not hurry. Wed need at least four days. So, it turned out to be this holiday weekend.
I took the back seats out of the car, hung some coated chain between the rear handles to act as a hanging bar and made sure wed have room for our tanks. This was going to be perfect.
Except for, well, floods.
We kissed our spouses farewell and left early Friday. Sticking to highways, we motored away from Montgomery to Port St. Joe and then toward Perry. No interstate, no hurry.
Our first clue that the floods were floods was when we stopped off to look at Troy Springs. We were shown around by the ranger, who explained where the normal water level was and how this was at least 25 feet over that. The river hadnt even crested yet, she was monitoring the situation and figured that would happen around the 14th. I dont know if this information is still accurate but the facilities were top-notch. We very much look forward to going once the waters are more cooperative. I hope no real damage comes of all this to her park, too. Or any other park.
Then we went to check in at the High Springs Country Inn. We unloaded all our gear and, starving, walked across the street to Floyds for burgers. (Mine was the Boca variety and I love the way they serve these things... worth the eleven hours drive, definitely.)
On Saturday, we were up early and dad wanted to stop in at Extreme Exposure. He bought The Book. He talked with the owner about DIR-F. He admired a backplate-harness get-up. He didnt mention he had over 200 dives and is a DiveCon with SSI. I muttered something about my new SK-7 compass and stood behind my fathers talkative self so as to be least likely infected by the bug and want to swing that way. I dont particularly like my Diva BCD and I endeavor to never, ever fin-and-destroy, but really... Im just a sport diver with no aspirations to go a mile into caves or to carry 100 pounds of tanks on my person, anywhere.
Dad talked with this affable man a little while and I realized I was holding my breath. Thats against rule #1 in any certification course. Get a grip.
Unscathed, we started down 27 toward Williston. We were detoured almost to the interstate and then brought back in. No interstate, no hurry. Blue Grotto wasnt packed, we signed in, claimed a table and sorted out our kits. A couple classes were there but there was so much space left over, I figured this was a good omen. And it was.
I had never been to this place and had some trouble visualizing what it would be like from the diagrams I had studied and the stories dad had about the place. A long stone stairway brought us to the dock and we carefully went down the wooden steps to a chest-high place for putting on fins, masks, and these darn 5mm gloves I was breaking in. (The gloves were necessary, as Im cold natured. The gloves were appropriately tight and worked wonders. Its just getting the things on that takes a full couple minutes.)
I was in awe once I swam around the relatively shallow pool that leads into the enormous cavern. I did a get-my-bearings large circle or two before meeting dad at the air bell (Me: this is awesome! Him: yeah! Me: Lets go see the peace rock thing! blub blub blub). If we werent alone, I would be surprised. Vis was excellent, nosing around the nooks and crannies was really, really cool and slowly moving around the middle-depth made me feel bliss like I was near Mars drifting around in space. Going back into the main pool, I held onto one of the ropes around 25 feet and laid on my back motionless to gaze up into the mossy rocks overhead and trees, sky, all that. Really incredible.
So we did it again.
Since it seemed like anything on the Sante Fe and Suwannee Rivers would be closed, we chose Paradise Springs as our next stop. More highways, through Ocala and then at the end of the long sand pathway... a dive sign. The owners greeted us in a backyard... sorta... and we were warned of limited vis (a class of energetic younger gentlemen were there, had been in a couple times already) but we coughed up the dough, signed away our rights and started dressing again.
Ive never claimed to be into cavern diving. I know my limitations and dad usually lets me wait behind or hover if he wants to do a swim through, etc. But down the rope at Paradise and into the first hallway? Forget it. At a depth of 35 feet or so, sudden darkness engulfing my 15 watts directly in front of me, I just held the line and waited, motionless, once in a while checking behind me to make sure I wasnt in anyones way and that the sun was still, you know, there. I watched dads light fade for a couple minutes until he came back and we had the usual sign-language conversation:
Ok?
Sure, Ill wait here if you want to go again.
Nah, it was pretty dark down there, anyway. Lets go up there and look at the fossils instead.
Cool.
Ok. Your lead.
The fossils were awesome. Paradise Springs was pretty awesome and would be stellar with some visibility at least. I think in the natural-light portions of the place, vis was around 10 feet. Into the caverns it did get better but, again, I only got so far and then I was up close to the ceiling, reading the rocks. The video briefing was right insofar as paying attention to the ceiling into the caverns and under the ledges is where some really interesting things remain from ages ago. Blew me away. I could have stayed around 25 feet under those ledges for hours had the water been warmer and had fewer bright-blue-suited people been zooming down the line into the caverns mucking up the silty bottom... But we lasted about half an hour.
Paradises location is out of story books. I thought the vegetation around the spring and the steps in earth leading down to the dock (which was really, really flooded) were actually Romantic. Add to that the fossils and whale bones... a feast for the senses.
We touched an interstate. Out of Ocala and north to the High Springs exit... we couldnt avoid it and rationalized it this way: we were starving and dad was hell-bent on eating at Floyds. Hes crazy about the place.
Only one self-induced detour on the way home, though: Lloyd Baileys. So funny to me, really ingenious, a place that has absolutely nabbed its target audience. Not only a nice selection of regular scuba gear (DIR pieces and parts, too, as far as I could tell when shying away), but also boating goods, semiautomatic pistols and books by people like William F. Buckley, Jr. Clearly one-stop shopping for the Federalist with disposable income.
We didnt even unload the car before heading to Floyds. Diving just invites pigging out at sunset, doesnt it? As a bonus, Dad had a malted milkshake. This propelled him into telling me several stories from the real soda fountains of yore. I had a beer. Or two.
...to be continued...
The idea was simple: load up my new Honda Element with our scuba gear and hightail it to High Springs one day. We figured we could get in Troy, Ginnie, Blue Grotto, Devils Den and also (this was the most interesting part to both of us) random smaller springs around that area of Florida. With the car as our base, just drive around with some good maps and figure out where to don and splash. We would not touch an interstate. We would not hurry. Wed need at least four days. So, it turned out to be this holiday weekend.
I took the back seats out of the car, hung some coated chain between the rear handles to act as a hanging bar and made sure wed have room for our tanks. This was going to be perfect.
Except for, well, floods.
We kissed our spouses farewell and left early Friday. Sticking to highways, we motored away from Montgomery to Port St. Joe and then toward Perry. No interstate, no hurry.
Our first clue that the floods were floods was when we stopped off to look at Troy Springs. We were shown around by the ranger, who explained where the normal water level was and how this was at least 25 feet over that. The river hadnt even crested yet, she was monitoring the situation and figured that would happen around the 14th. I dont know if this information is still accurate but the facilities were top-notch. We very much look forward to going once the waters are more cooperative. I hope no real damage comes of all this to her park, too. Or any other park.
Then we went to check in at the High Springs Country Inn. We unloaded all our gear and, starving, walked across the street to Floyds for burgers. (Mine was the Boca variety and I love the way they serve these things... worth the eleven hours drive, definitely.)
On Saturday, we were up early and dad wanted to stop in at Extreme Exposure. He bought The Book. He talked with the owner about DIR-F. He admired a backplate-harness get-up. He didnt mention he had over 200 dives and is a DiveCon with SSI. I muttered something about my new SK-7 compass and stood behind my fathers talkative self so as to be least likely infected by the bug and want to swing that way. I dont particularly like my Diva BCD and I endeavor to never, ever fin-and-destroy, but really... Im just a sport diver with no aspirations to go a mile into caves or to carry 100 pounds of tanks on my person, anywhere.
Dad talked with this affable man a little while and I realized I was holding my breath. Thats against rule #1 in any certification course. Get a grip.
Unscathed, we started down 27 toward Williston. We were detoured almost to the interstate and then brought back in. No interstate, no hurry. Blue Grotto wasnt packed, we signed in, claimed a table and sorted out our kits. A couple classes were there but there was so much space left over, I figured this was a good omen. And it was.
I had never been to this place and had some trouble visualizing what it would be like from the diagrams I had studied and the stories dad had about the place. A long stone stairway brought us to the dock and we carefully went down the wooden steps to a chest-high place for putting on fins, masks, and these darn 5mm gloves I was breaking in. (The gloves were necessary, as Im cold natured. The gloves were appropriately tight and worked wonders. Its just getting the things on that takes a full couple minutes.)
I was in awe once I swam around the relatively shallow pool that leads into the enormous cavern. I did a get-my-bearings large circle or two before meeting dad at the air bell (Me: this is awesome! Him: yeah! Me: Lets go see the peace rock thing! blub blub blub). If we werent alone, I would be surprised. Vis was excellent, nosing around the nooks and crannies was really, really cool and slowly moving around the middle-depth made me feel bliss like I was near Mars drifting around in space. Going back into the main pool, I held onto one of the ropes around 25 feet and laid on my back motionless to gaze up into the mossy rocks overhead and trees, sky, all that. Really incredible.
So we did it again.
Since it seemed like anything on the Sante Fe and Suwannee Rivers would be closed, we chose Paradise Springs as our next stop. More highways, through Ocala and then at the end of the long sand pathway... a dive sign. The owners greeted us in a backyard... sorta... and we were warned of limited vis (a class of energetic younger gentlemen were there, had been in a couple times already) but we coughed up the dough, signed away our rights and started dressing again.
Ive never claimed to be into cavern diving. I know my limitations and dad usually lets me wait behind or hover if he wants to do a swim through, etc. But down the rope at Paradise and into the first hallway? Forget it. At a depth of 35 feet or so, sudden darkness engulfing my 15 watts directly in front of me, I just held the line and waited, motionless, once in a while checking behind me to make sure I wasnt in anyones way and that the sun was still, you know, there. I watched dads light fade for a couple minutes until he came back and we had the usual sign-language conversation:
Ok?
Sure, Ill wait here if you want to go again.
Nah, it was pretty dark down there, anyway. Lets go up there and look at the fossils instead.
Cool.
Ok. Your lead.
The fossils were awesome. Paradise Springs was pretty awesome and would be stellar with some visibility at least. I think in the natural-light portions of the place, vis was around 10 feet. Into the caverns it did get better but, again, I only got so far and then I was up close to the ceiling, reading the rocks. The video briefing was right insofar as paying attention to the ceiling into the caverns and under the ledges is where some really interesting things remain from ages ago. Blew me away. I could have stayed around 25 feet under those ledges for hours had the water been warmer and had fewer bright-blue-suited people been zooming down the line into the caverns mucking up the silty bottom... But we lasted about half an hour.
Paradises location is out of story books. I thought the vegetation around the spring and the steps in earth leading down to the dock (which was really, really flooded) were actually Romantic. Add to that the fossils and whale bones... a feast for the senses.
We touched an interstate. Out of Ocala and north to the High Springs exit... we couldnt avoid it and rationalized it this way: we were starving and dad was hell-bent on eating at Floyds. Hes crazy about the place.
Only one self-induced detour on the way home, though: Lloyd Baileys. So funny to me, really ingenious, a place that has absolutely nabbed its target audience. Not only a nice selection of regular scuba gear (DIR pieces and parts, too, as far as I could tell when shying away), but also boating goods, semiautomatic pistols and books by people like William F. Buckley, Jr. Clearly one-stop shopping for the Federalist with disposable income.
We didnt even unload the car before heading to Floyds. Diving just invites pigging out at sunset, doesnt it? As a bonus, Dad had a malted milkshake. This propelled him into telling me several stories from the real soda fountains of yore. I had a beer. Or two.
...to be continued...