inter_alia
Guest
Spiegel Grove, August 4, 2005.
Operation: Blue Water Divers, mm 100, Key Largo. http://bluewaterdiver.net/ Exceptional. Among the best Ive ever patronized.
Plan: two tank trip, both on the righted Spiegel Grove if conditions and divers were agreeable.
Divers: me, dad and Glen from Dallas. Thats three appropriately-certified divers. On a nice big comfy boat. Ahhh....
Seas: placid. (9-inch swells, maybe). Ahhhh....
Weather: stellar. (Sunny and blue.) Ahhhhhhhh........
Vis: 90 feet plus. (When we initially pulled over the site, we noticed the wreck glinting in the sun from on board. At the second buoy, with a masked face from the ladder, the bow was showing off right under us bow is in around 90 fsw.) Ahhhhhhhhhh........
Temp: 85F on surface, thermocline at 60 feet to 80F. Quite noticeable but with all the excitement who cares.
Current: 1.5 knots reported by Capt. Glenn on the surface. Um.
Story: Two years ago I aborted my first attempt on the Grove. The blasted current. On this trip, I aborted the first attempt again. Dratted current. I had something to get over, right? I got over it. On the second location on the Grove (Blue Water Divers kicks butt) we were tied in on a traverse line which would lead us to the wheelhouse. Brent kindly talked me through what to do to get down past the worst of the current and then offered to go with. Hed lead. He had some pictures to take anyway. I thought this was a nice offer and took him up on it.
We stepped off the stern and started pulling. Ouch, ooch, eek. I looked up at Brent... some guys are just fish. I dont know if he has gills or if he needs any weight in a full wetsuit but watching people that comfortable on a line while theyre being whipped horizontally as if on a flag pole during a hurricane does something, by example, thats calm-inducing. As I moved down the line those first forty feet (the worst of it), just watching Brent maneuver so well was either inspiring or assuring so I did whatever he did. Just hang, just use both hands and oh yeah breathe. Slow and steady. When we got to the traverse line, things got even easier and I took a break to catch my breath (not as winded as I thought Id be) while Brent looked up to see what was going on with our other two divers. Only one was on his way. Not my dad.
Dads a DiveCon with SSI and has over 250 logged dives. Hes in exceptionally good health, etc. This is why I wasnt too worried about his tardiness and I just kept moving down the line another 100 feet or so until, finally, I ducked behind the wheelhouse and was reminded that without the current having its way with me, some air in the BC would be good at 88 feet. We waited a few minutes and dad still wasnt coming down. I started examining micro stuff. Then I realized I was on the [bleeping] Spiegel Grove. On the wreck. ME. The bow was right over there and I could see it. Im a rock star. (Ok, Brents a rock star and I just have more upper body strength than I thought.)
Eventually, dad appeared but by then I was down to 1600 PSI (octo had freeflowed some on my way down when it became detatched from its proper place, not to mention working down that line) and so we only had another ten minutes before I wanted to go back up. Honestly, other than a couple large Parrotfish and then a handful of Scrawled Filefish (a couple very large), I was kind of more interested in making it to the darn wreck than I was searching for wildlife. I did poke my head in to see the remnants of a bathroom (just the sink was there), and I admired the gun turrets but of my seventeen on-wreck minutes I just was sort of there. Waiting for dad or watching the fish who were there with me. Brent later reported a couple very large stingray buried in sand near the bow.
On our way up I signaled to Brent air, were going up and he saluted me then went back to his camera and the Grove. He doesnt fin, he wills his way through the water. Jedi.
Going up is easier, by the way, like reverse repelling but sideways and, well, overhead. The currents hadnt changed but I did welcome the thermocline at the top of the traverse line. We did a deep stop and I was smiling so much my mask leaked some so I tried to not smile but the view was too good. The lines off the wreck quite a bit and we just hung there, staring at maybe 25% of the Grove and with the amazing visibility, I could have hung there a lot longer. Even with that diabolic current... but we started up slowly and, alas, it had to end. (Our safety stop view was straight down to the bow again but the currents had that mask-grabbing quality about them so one had to be careful. Just using one hand to check my gauges was work up there.)
At the mooring ball which was quite submerged it got more difficult to maintain a nice, cool profile in the water. I carefully slid toward the boat but then: the bow? Is this the right boat? I could see the painting port side and, yes, it was the right boat. The bow? Why the &$*%^@#&* was I at the bow and why isnt there a *&#&$@* line to the ladder!?? A voice from on high informed me that there was a drift line off the stern so I considered this. I mean, my body was plastered to the side of the boat and I had one hand in a death grip on that line and my dad was on his approach, too. Whats the worst that can happen if I let go? Ha.
I let go. The world slid by, etc., but I kept my eyes on the ladder (no way Id try and pull myself back in from a drift line) and when it was appropriate, I managed to lunge and grab a rung. Nevermind the ladder was also nearly horizontal, I had a grip and my dad was on the line not far behind me. Now the matter of the fins... I hung on the ladder face down and accidentally admired the bow of the Grove again before attacking the fins issue. More work. More triumph. Once up the ladder, still breathing from my tank (why?), I got to my seat with Capt. Glenns help and then spit out my reg in a fit of giggles. A damn fine dive. For lots of reasons.
... and that was my Thursday morning. Yours?
Operation: Blue Water Divers, mm 100, Key Largo. http://bluewaterdiver.net/ Exceptional. Among the best Ive ever patronized.
Plan: two tank trip, both on the righted Spiegel Grove if conditions and divers were agreeable.
Divers: me, dad and Glen from Dallas. Thats three appropriately-certified divers. On a nice big comfy boat. Ahhh....
Seas: placid. (9-inch swells, maybe). Ahhhh....
Weather: stellar. (Sunny and blue.) Ahhhhhhhh........
Vis: 90 feet plus. (When we initially pulled over the site, we noticed the wreck glinting in the sun from on board. At the second buoy, with a masked face from the ladder, the bow was showing off right under us bow is in around 90 fsw.) Ahhhhhhhhhh........
Temp: 85F on surface, thermocline at 60 feet to 80F. Quite noticeable but with all the excitement who cares.
Current: 1.5 knots reported by Capt. Glenn on the surface. Um.
Story: Two years ago I aborted my first attempt on the Grove. The blasted current. On this trip, I aborted the first attempt again. Dratted current. I had something to get over, right? I got over it. On the second location on the Grove (Blue Water Divers kicks butt) we were tied in on a traverse line which would lead us to the wheelhouse. Brent kindly talked me through what to do to get down past the worst of the current and then offered to go with. Hed lead. He had some pictures to take anyway. I thought this was a nice offer and took him up on it.
We stepped off the stern and started pulling. Ouch, ooch, eek. I looked up at Brent... some guys are just fish. I dont know if he has gills or if he needs any weight in a full wetsuit but watching people that comfortable on a line while theyre being whipped horizontally as if on a flag pole during a hurricane does something, by example, thats calm-inducing. As I moved down the line those first forty feet (the worst of it), just watching Brent maneuver so well was either inspiring or assuring so I did whatever he did. Just hang, just use both hands and oh yeah breathe. Slow and steady. When we got to the traverse line, things got even easier and I took a break to catch my breath (not as winded as I thought Id be) while Brent looked up to see what was going on with our other two divers. Only one was on his way. Not my dad.
Dads a DiveCon with SSI and has over 250 logged dives. Hes in exceptionally good health, etc. This is why I wasnt too worried about his tardiness and I just kept moving down the line another 100 feet or so until, finally, I ducked behind the wheelhouse and was reminded that without the current having its way with me, some air in the BC would be good at 88 feet. We waited a few minutes and dad still wasnt coming down. I started examining micro stuff. Then I realized I was on the [bleeping] Spiegel Grove. On the wreck. ME. The bow was right over there and I could see it. Im a rock star. (Ok, Brents a rock star and I just have more upper body strength than I thought.)
Eventually, dad appeared but by then I was down to 1600 PSI (octo had freeflowed some on my way down when it became detatched from its proper place, not to mention working down that line) and so we only had another ten minutes before I wanted to go back up. Honestly, other than a couple large Parrotfish and then a handful of Scrawled Filefish (a couple very large), I was kind of more interested in making it to the darn wreck than I was searching for wildlife. I did poke my head in to see the remnants of a bathroom (just the sink was there), and I admired the gun turrets but of my seventeen on-wreck minutes I just was sort of there. Waiting for dad or watching the fish who were there with me. Brent later reported a couple very large stingray buried in sand near the bow.
On our way up I signaled to Brent air, were going up and he saluted me then went back to his camera and the Grove. He doesnt fin, he wills his way through the water. Jedi.
Going up is easier, by the way, like reverse repelling but sideways and, well, overhead. The currents hadnt changed but I did welcome the thermocline at the top of the traverse line. We did a deep stop and I was smiling so much my mask leaked some so I tried to not smile but the view was too good. The lines off the wreck quite a bit and we just hung there, staring at maybe 25% of the Grove and with the amazing visibility, I could have hung there a lot longer. Even with that diabolic current... but we started up slowly and, alas, it had to end. (Our safety stop view was straight down to the bow again but the currents had that mask-grabbing quality about them so one had to be careful. Just using one hand to check my gauges was work up there.)
At the mooring ball which was quite submerged it got more difficult to maintain a nice, cool profile in the water. I carefully slid toward the boat but then: the bow? Is this the right boat? I could see the painting port side and, yes, it was the right boat. The bow? Why the &$*%^@#&* was I at the bow and why isnt there a *&#&$@* line to the ladder!?? A voice from on high informed me that there was a drift line off the stern so I considered this. I mean, my body was plastered to the side of the boat and I had one hand in a death grip on that line and my dad was on his approach, too. Whats the worst that can happen if I let go? Ha.
I let go. The world slid by, etc., but I kept my eyes on the ladder (no way Id try and pull myself back in from a drift line) and when it was appropriate, I managed to lunge and grab a rung. Nevermind the ladder was also nearly horizontal, I had a grip and my dad was on the line not far behind me. Now the matter of the fins... I hung on the ladder face down and accidentally admired the bow of the Grove again before attacking the fins issue. More work. More triumph. Once up the ladder, still breathing from my tank (why?), I got to my seat with Capt. Glenns help and then spit out my reg in a fit of giggles. A damn fine dive. For lots of reasons.
... and that was my Thursday morning. Yours?
Congrats on your victory!
