Togalive
Contributor
I haven't posted on SB in some time, but after two weeks or so of thinking about it, I decided I'd post up a recent unusual experience I had off of the Monterey Breakwater in California.
To begin, I was out on a dive with several friends. Particularly, my buddy and myself were making a stab at visiting some of the beautiful metridium fields a couple hundred yards out, a common dive site we've visited plenty of times previous. I had been warned the day beforehand by a local diver that the local Sea Lion population had recently pupped, and that they were exceptionally moody, so it was for that reason that we gave the breakwater a large birth and dove further west.
Everything was peachy for the first half of the dive. The metridium was spectacular as usual, and visibility was crystal clear for monterey at 15ft. My buddy and I did notice one thing, an usually high concentration of fish over the metridium fields, but we didn't think anything of it. Before heading back to shore on our return heading, I stopped near a waypoint kelp stalk to relax for a minute. Just as we started off again, I "sensed" something and turned to my right. Sure enough a large greyish-brown shadow came ripping out of the murk right towards us, veering off less than a foot from a collision and revealing itself to be a massive sea lion (400+ lbs, 6ft+ long). Now I have had plenty of experiences with our local Harbor Seals, but never a Sea Lion. I had seen plenty of videos from other divers of their unique playful demeanor underwater, so I was enticed that I might get to experience some of that for myself. At this point, my buddy and I stopped, kneeled on the bottom, and kept a wary eye out should our visitor return. After a quiet 10 seconds or so, the same sea lion cruised across our front, but it was only then that I realized something was wrong. I can't describe it adequately, but when I saw those big eyes looking at us, I got the strongest feeling I've ever had, somewhere deep inside, that I simply needed to get away. Something inside screamed at me "Get out, and get out now. This is a dangerous situation."
It was at this point that it really became interesting. As my partner also got the feeling that something was amiss, we both got up and started towards shore. Just as we did, the lion came in for another charge, veering off no more than 6 inches from my buddy's mask. A second later, and a second, similarly massive sea lion joined in, charging again and again at our masks and tanks. Another couple seconds and a third, equally large lion joined in. Now we had three seemingly pissed off sea lions, each taking stabs at us while the other two circled. You may be thinking "Well yeah, thats what sea lions do, they make cute little playful twisty-charges all the time", but all I can say is that there was nothing playful about our visitors. They made it abundantly clear we were not welcome.
For probably 4 to 6 minutes our tail continued to chase and charge us relentlessly as we carefully returned on our heading, hugging the bottom and holding ourselves together to appear larger. Eventually we reached the sand flats, and our visitors dropped away as quickly as they had arrived. It was not until we surfaced and spoke that my buddy and I suspected why they may have been so territorial. Our suspicion was that, in our efforts to give the colony a wide birth, we had inadvertently stumbled onto their fishing grounds, the unusually dense fish populations over the metridium fields. As it turns out, the other divers in our group who had returned minutes previous actually spotted the same trio heading out, though the lions paid them no attention and seemed "pre-occupied" as they continued on their intercept course with us.
Anyways, thats the story, make of it what you will. For us it was a learning experience, and all things considered we still completed a second dive that day, though we headed out MUCH farther West and kept to the shallower areas. I wouldn't call it a near miss, but it was a defining moment in how my group decided pinnipeds should be viewed with respect to diving. As for our best laid plans to avoid them and dive the metridium instead, well, you know the saying.
Best,
Toga
To begin, I was out on a dive with several friends. Particularly, my buddy and myself were making a stab at visiting some of the beautiful metridium fields a couple hundred yards out, a common dive site we've visited plenty of times previous. I had been warned the day beforehand by a local diver that the local Sea Lion population had recently pupped, and that they were exceptionally moody, so it was for that reason that we gave the breakwater a large birth and dove further west.
Everything was peachy for the first half of the dive. The metridium was spectacular as usual, and visibility was crystal clear for monterey at 15ft. My buddy and I did notice one thing, an usually high concentration of fish over the metridium fields, but we didn't think anything of it. Before heading back to shore on our return heading, I stopped near a waypoint kelp stalk to relax for a minute. Just as we started off again, I "sensed" something and turned to my right. Sure enough a large greyish-brown shadow came ripping out of the murk right towards us, veering off less than a foot from a collision and revealing itself to be a massive sea lion (400+ lbs, 6ft+ long). Now I have had plenty of experiences with our local Harbor Seals, but never a Sea Lion. I had seen plenty of videos from other divers of their unique playful demeanor underwater, so I was enticed that I might get to experience some of that for myself. At this point, my buddy and I stopped, kneeled on the bottom, and kept a wary eye out should our visitor return. After a quiet 10 seconds or so, the same sea lion cruised across our front, but it was only then that I realized something was wrong. I can't describe it adequately, but when I saw those big eyes looking at us, I got the strongest feeling I've ever had, somewhere deep inside, that I simply needed to get away. Something inside screamed at me "Get out, and get out now. This is a dangerous situation."
It was at this point that it really became interesting. As my partner also got the feeling that something was amiss, we both got up and started towards shore. Just as we did, the lion came in for another charge, veering off no more than 6 inches from my buddy's mask. A second later, and a second, similarly massive sea lion joined in, charging again and again at our masks and tanks. Another couple seconds and a third, equally large lion joined in. Now we had three seemingly pissed off sea lions, each taking stabs at us while the other two circled. You may be thinking "Well yeah, thats what sea lions do, they make cute little playful twisty-charges all the time", but all I can say is that there was nothing playful about our visitors. They made it abundantly clear we were not welcome.
For probably 4 to 6 minutes our tail continued to chase and charge us relentlessly as we carefully returned on our heading, hugging the bottom and holding ourselves together to appear larger. Eventually we reached the sand flats, and our visitors dropped away as quickly as they had arrived. It was not until we surfaced and spoke that my buddy and I suspected why they may have been so territorial. Our suspicion was that, in our efforts to give the colony a wide birth, we had inadvertently stumbled onto their fishing grounds, the unusually dense fish populations over the metridium fields. As it turns out, the other divers in our group who had returned minutes previous actually spotted the same trio heading out, though the lions paid them no attention and seemed "pre-occupied" as they continued on their intercept course with us.
Anyways, thats the story, make of it what you will. For us it was a learning experience, and all things considered we still completed a second dive that day, though we headed out MUCH farther West and kept to the shallower areas. I wouldn't call it a near miss, but it was a defining moment in how my group decided pinnipeds should be viewed with respect to diving. As for our best laid plans to avoid them and dive the metridium instead, well, you know the saying.
Best,
Toga
