LONG trip report, High Springs, etc., 10/8/04 - 10/11/04

A long trip report about High Springs, Blue Grotto, Paradise Springs, Devil’s Den and Morrison. There are also bits on flooding, Lloyd Bailey’s and my father’s 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, Devil’s 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. We’d 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 we’d 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 hadn’t even crested yet, she was monitoring the situation and figured that would happen around the 14th. I don’t 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 Floyd’s 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 didn’t 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 father’s talkative self so as to be least likely infected by the bug and want to swing that way. I don’t particularly like my Diva BCD and I endeavor to never, ever fin-and-destroy, but really... I’m 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. That’s 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 wasn’t 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 I’m cold natured. The gloves were appropriately tight and worked wonders. It’s 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: “Let’s go see the peace rock thing!” blub blub blub). If we weren’t 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.
I’ve 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 wasn’t in anyone’s way and that the sun was still, you know, there. I watched dad’s light fade for a couple minutes until he came back and we had the usual sign-language conversation:
– Ok?
– Sure, I’ll wait here if you want to go again.
– Nah, it was pretty dark down there, anyway. Let’s 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.
Paradise’s 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 couldn’t avoid it and rationalized it this way: we were starving and dad was hell-bent on eating at Floyd’s. He’s 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 didn’t even unload the car before heading to Floyd’s. Diving just invites pigging out at sunset, doesn’t 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...

We packed up early the next day, checked out and went straight to Devil’s Den. Well, not “straight to,” as more roads were closed on the far side of another river, etc. We got there through pretty detours, anyway. Again, a sparsely populated spot for 9:00 so we signed up and got diving. The water was eight feet over its normal level so the long staircase ended early and on the primary dock, we were in chest-high water.

It was sort of... milky. Not really lots of regular fragments all around, but a general haze to the water. Big lights were necessary when the sun went behind clouds and below 30 feet. It was still lovely. If Blue Grotto is like diving on Mars, this place was like diving on the moon. Like, if you squint, it’s all craters and boulders and human-size catfish over your head. I started naming them things like Sputnik, Hubble and Cassini but then got a hold on myself since this couldn’t be blamed on narcosis.

We did that one again, too.
On our surface interval, more people cleared out. The weather was nearly ideal and it was just too good to mess with so we stuck around and made those two lengthy dives with no rushing, no waiting. No fins to worry about but my fins... and I’d likely not kick myself in the face so, really, there were just no worries at all. It was a massive blessing. But a shame, too, for the business owners. One of the proprietors said something like “I guess since Ginnie’s closed, nobody’s coming around. It’s a great weekend to be diving here, a holiday weekend to boot, and nobody’s here.” I kind of agreed with that but then – we were there, and we were handing over the hefty fees to dive there.

Not that we were in a hurry, but we had to get on the interstate again on Sunday after Devil’s Den. Just for a couple hours, on our way back into the panhandle. We had our sights set on either Morrison or Vortex Monday morning so we had planned to stay at that motor lodge in Ponce de Leon but after being in the car all day had a change of heart. Went one exit farther, into DeFuniak Springs and booked a couple rooms at the Best Western. Ooooh, big spenders.

This morning –Monday morning– we awoke to drizzle and gloom. Went straight to Morrison Springs and were completely alone. I backed up into the pavilion which now was our private carport... and from there, you could almost make out the horizontal tree over the headspring. No kidding. The gloom quit feeling like gloom, you know? After a quick discussion about alligators or snakes or other animals that might not have gone to bed yet, we threw on our gear and headed out.

I have never seen water so clear. Not one particle. Not one flaw, really. It was just – perfect. The rain overhead obscured the trees but made good accompaniment to playing with my new compass. We practiced things on the platform (dad and his helicopter kick... arrrgh...), I did patterns with my SK-7 and we investigated the cavern-mouth. Lots of flow today, it was a small expense of energy to reach the Reaper sign and the ground was moving down there on its own. Got to 40 feet or so max. Vis was unmitigated.

On our way out, a pair of fishermen with a tiny boat were backing up down the beach. The truck was camouflaged or I might have seen it sooner. The last laugh, though, was when one of them asked me if we were the only two in there and I affirmed. He said “we were looking for a dive flag, didn’t see one.” Doh! “We would have gone real careful, though,” he explained. Well. A goof, I guess, but I never though Morrison was the sort of place I needed to worry about trailing a flag in the first place. This must be something to do with the unregulated nature of the site at the moment... we’re getting what we pay for.

Took our time getting all the gear back in the buggy, hanging it just so and laying towels over the remainder just so. We’ve got experience in all this now. We feel like road warriors on some sort of mission or... something. I’m talking to my dad like a pilot instead of a chauffeur and he’s correcting my mutilations of that well-earned pilot jargon with a patience only my dad can have for me.

I think we both consider this weekend as an introduction to the roadtrip/ scuba vacation. In a way it’s really a blessing that so many things were flooded out since this just leaves more places down there we haven’t been to. For instance, we stopped by Manatee Springs and saw the flooded conditions of it and Catfish Sink – while neither of these seem all that perfect, they could be interesting to dive for whatever reasons. It’s just too easy to drive-and-dive around there. It’s too tempting to not do this, too. We put 1100 miles on my car and weren’t nearly worn out when we got home. I bet he’s already planning the next itinerary...

Thanks for reading.

Your trip report was very interesting and well written. Sounds like you and your Dad had a blast. Thanks for sharing some your great fun.
BTW How do you like your Element? What are the pros and cons? I was going to buy one when it first came out but went with a used CRV.

Oh Simon, I think I've just found your superior!

Sounds like you had a good time, however you didnt choose a great time to get on down to cave country

I will agree with you that springs are chilly (and they dont warm up anytime of the year) and that Lloyd Bailey seems like a right wing extremeist. At least you got to see some of the sinks around here, shame about Paradise being silted out - happens very easily and Devils Den never seems to have viz, but some nice swim throughs! Give it another month or so and it should be clearer all around as the waters drop. I enjoy the roadtrips too, however so far its only been SE, SW or the Keys, will make some to the Panhandle one day

Chuck, trust me i have written longer in the past, but i am impressed, who says size doesnt matter!

Thanks for the report. I'm leaving in the morning for South Georgia. We had planned a trip to High Springs (I love Floyd's too!), but with the reports of flooding and such we made new plans. From what you've posted, though, we might be able to squeak in a couple of dives in after all, even if not around the Suwanee or Sante Fe.

Thanks again.

You must have hit paradise springs after we had left. When we got there early saturday morning the vis was fantastic. It took an open water class with about 15 students to completely screw it up, which happened during our surface interval after the first dive.

They must have been digging in the silt like dogs or something....

Maladryne:

From what you've posted, though, we might be able to squeak in a couple of dives in after all, even if not around the Suwanee or Sante Fe.

Click to expand...

Hit the sinks, paradise, blue grotto, devils den - all open as they arent connected to the rivers. Manatee is also open and maybe those on the panhandle i believe (but cant be sure, ask the locals there). That is about your options for spring diving at this time around here.

Thanks for your replies, guys. I debated whether or not to post the Reader's Digest version (depth, vis, time) but then... I was overtaken.

Smokeaire, the Element is wonderful. Don't expect power or anything (160hp 4-cyl, drives just like your CR-V as it is your CR-V), but the utility of this car was proved over and over again this weekend. Can't beat a lack of carpet and headroom for ages. Reports on wind resistance are overstated. MPG around town = 19-22, highway = 25-27. Go play with one somewhere wearing muddy boots... sigh.

Simon, if size only matters inasmuch as what one does with it, I hope the long trip report was a kind read rather than brusque. I only just got home so while I launder and sink-the-stink, here's my computer... type type type.

Maladryne, I really recommend trying to make it to the places that are open (think springhead, not attached to a river) -- it felt kind of good passing some money in that area. I think they'd love the help right about now.

Thanks again!

Simon, Manatee was closed (and really, really tannic -- is that the word? Espresso-like, I mean) yesterday. Catfish Sink did not have a barrier... and the new attendant at the gate seemed to insinuate it was diveable.
Just fyi.

Sorry i meant to say that only catfish was open in the manatee state park. I only count manatee spring itself as a good place to blow off the duckweed after a dive in catfish as it is so shallow I have also heard that the siphon side is "closed" in catfish, the spring side is "open" or at least that is what was reported by another according to the rangers - of course until i am intro to cave i wont go near either, just repeating what i heard.