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11-30-2002, 08:34 AM
For educational purposes, I thought it might be kind of fun to share some stories that may help each other avoid similar misadventures. Heres only one of mine:
A few years back we decided we would join the fray and dive deep for some big fish during the St. Pete Open. Up to that point, the deepest I had been was 150, and I really wasn’t crazy about that. Nevertheless, I was looking forward to the adventure with every intention of conducting myself safely.
Not having a lot of practice in the deeper water, we also had some unproven numbers. Even though they were unproven, I always pictured scores of monster fish on just about anything you found in 150 feet or more. Our first dive would be 170. We roamed the area a bit until we read a nice fish show and a hard bottom signature. There was no relief at this spot, so it was pretty hard to find. This to me was perfect. Deep, but not too deep, and hard to find. Probably a nice big pothole with a couple 100 lb groupers, maybe a big snapper or bug. The water was as clear as air and maybe 82 degrees, the seas were dead calm. This was going to be one awesome dive!
We hopped in the water and began descending the jug with anticipation, ready to roll over that big one and win the tournament. The vis was awesome. At seventy feet you could see the bottom, another hundred feet down. As I approached the bottom just ahead of my buddy, my senses were saying “boy this is a long way down”! There was a giant bait ball hovering over the pothole, and at any moment I expected to see that big black stir up the bait. I approached cautiously, aiming for where I expected him to be. The stir never occurred, and finally I had to move the bait myself. We discovered......not much. I think we returned to the boat with maybe a 2 pound mango snapper.
The next dive was an airplane wreck at 165 feet. This one showed a nice, busy signature like most wrecks do. I could picture the 100 pound jacks circling and 50 pound Cuberas inside the wreck. Water was about the same as the first dive, couldn’t be more perfect. The jacks were.........not legal, and the rest of the fish were barely legal. My anticipation was starting to turn into a little bit of frustration.
From there we dove ledges at 150, 140, 130, and 120 feet only to get pretty much skunked. There were tons of nice snappers at the 120 foot spot, but I lost a couple and at that point had very little bottom time. We evaluated our situation: Dove all day, had no fish, would probably be late for the weighin. This produced a pretty empty feeling after getting ready for the tournament all year long. The good thing was, everybody was safe after doing our deepest diving ever. I would try to fix that though, as we decided to dive our way back so we could at least take some fish home. Next stop: 90 feet.
My wife Lisa was diving with us that day, and this time she would be my dive buddy. We both had freshly pumped tanks as the boat had a compressor. Lisa didn’t do near as much diving as I did, so she was showing more bottom time. It was early dusk as we entered the water and I could see a storm way off in the distance. No problem though, this was going to be a short dive anyway, I was getting used to no fish being there. Down the jug we went, visibility was perfect. As we approached the ledge it became apparent that this was a beautiful spot, and we were perfectly positioned on it. Better yet, there was a ton of fish here. Not big ones, but nice sized legal ones and more than I could count. Lisa and I began to shoot fish and before long I had a stringer full of hogfish. I was like a shooting gallery, load, aim, fire, stringer, repeat. This was a great way to cure the frustration. Suddenly, Lisa motioned to me that she had lost her speargun and was leaving. My meter indicated I had just went into deco, but there was lots more fish there, and since I had lots of air I decided to bring back some to share with the team.
The fish kept coming as I noticed it was getting dark down there. As a matter of fact, I had to use my light to read my computer. What did it say? 40 minute deco for you buddy. This was not good. I immediately began my ascent. I could hear the boat in the distance, but not overhead. Where had they gone? To try to recover Lisa’s speargun or possibly Lisa herself? As I reached 20 feet I could see that the storm had arrived, whipped up the seas, and made it pitch black. Double not good. I swam around looking for the jug line, but could see none in the dark. Lets size this up: I’ve got a big stringer of fish, its shark feeding time, I don’t know where my wife is, there’s a storm overhead, its pitch black, I really don’t know if I’m close to the jug or not, the boat doesn’t know where I am, and I’ve got a 40 minute deco. I have never felt dumber in my life.
About the only thing I had going for me was the captain, who was a good friend of mine, whose identity I will protect, knew what the heck he was doing. I could hear the boat canvassing the area, and as it did I got out my dive light. Thankfully it was not flooded, as lights tend to do when you need them the most. After about 20 minutes, the boat roamed near my position, and as it did I waved my light wildly. Much to my relief, they saw the light and immediately pulled over top of me. Moments later, the best looking deco line I’d ever seen was offered, and I grabbed it gratefully. Still having 20 minutes to go and not wanting to share my fish with the sharks, I clipped my stringer on the line and floated the fish to the surface with my speargun. Twenty minutes later, I ran out of air at the same time my computer let me off the hook. My final relief was to discover that my wife was aboard safely.
Relief was quickly replaced with embarrassment, but my friends knew I felt stupid and were not too hard on me. I’m not sure what the moral of the story is, but I will guarantee you I will never do that again. Not only did it endanger me, but that’s not the kind of guy you want to dive with. Thankfully, everybody forgave me, and I got a little wiser.
John
A few years back we decided we would join the fray and dive deep for some big fish during the St. Pete Open. Up to that point, the deepest I had been was 150, and I really wasn’t crazy about that. Nevertheless, I was looking forward to the adventure with every intention of conducting myself safely.
Not having a lot of practice in the deeper water, we also had some unproven numbers. Even though they were unproven, I always pictured scores of monster fish on just about anything you found in 150 feet or more. Our first dive would be 170. We roamed the area a bit until we read a nice fish show and a hard bottom signature. There was no relief at this spot, so it was pretty hard to find. This to me was perfect. Deep, but not too deep, and hard to find. Probably a nice big pothole with a couple 100 lb groupers, maybe a big snapper or bug. The water was as clear as air and maybe 82 degrees, the seas were dead calm. This was going to be one awesome dive!
We hopped in the water and began descending the jug with anticipation, ready to roll over that big one and win the tournament. The vis was awesome. At seventy feet you could see the bottom, another hundred feet down. As I approached the bottom just ahead of my buddy, my senses were saying “boy this is a long way down”! There was a giant bait ball hovering over the pothole, and at any moment I expected to see that big black stir up the bait. I approached cautiously, aiming for where I expected him to be. The stir never occurred, and finally I had to move the bait myself. We discovered......not much. I think we returned to the boat with maybe a 2 pound mango snapper.
The next dive was an airplane wreck at 165 feet. This one showed a nice, busy signature like most wrecks do. I could picture the 100 pound jacks circling and 50 pound Cuberas inside the wreck. Water was about the same as the first dive, couldn’t be more perfect. The jacks were.........not legal, and the rest of the fish were barely legal. My anticipation was starting to turn into a little bit of frustration.
From there we dove ledges at 150, 140, 130, and 120 feet only to get pretty much skunked. There were tons of nice snappers at the 120 foot spot, but I lost a couple and at that point had very little bottom time. We evaluated our situation: Dove all day, had no fish, would probably be late for the weighin. This produced a pretty empty feeling after getting ready for the tournament all year long. The good thing was, everybody was safe after doing our deepest diving ever. I would try to fix that though, as we decided to dive our way back so we could at least take some fish home. Next stop: 90 feet.
My wife Lisa was diving with us that day, and this time she would be my dive buddy. We both had freshly pumped tanks as the boat had a compressor. Lisa didn’t do near as much diving as I did, so she was showing more bottom time. It was early dusk as we entered the water and I could see a storm way off in the distance. No problem though, this was going to be a short dive anyway, I was getting used to no fish being there. Down the jug we went, visibility was perfect. As we approached the ledge it became apparent that this was a beautiful spot, and we were perfectly positioned on it. Better yet, there was a ton of fish here. Not big ones, but nice sized legal ones and more than I could count. Lisa and I began to shoot fish and before long I had a stringer full of hogfish. I was like a shooting gallery, load, aim, fire, stringer, repeat. This was a great way to cure the frustration. Suddenly, Lisa motioned to me that she had lost her speargun and was leaving. My meter indicated I had just went into deco, but there was lots more fish there, and since I had lots of air I decided to bring back some to share with the team.
The fish kept coming as I noticed it was getting dark down there. As a matter of fact, I had to use my light to read my computer. What did it say? 40 minute deco for you buddy. This was not good. I immediately began my ascent. I could hear the boat in the distance, but not overhead. Where had they gone? To try to recover Lisa’s speargun or possibly Lisa herself? As I reached 20 feet I could see that the storm had arrived, whipped up the seas, and made it pitch black. Double not good. I swam around looking for the jug line, but could see none in the dark. Lets size this up: I’ve got a big stringer of fish, its shark feeding time, I don’t know where my wife is, there’s a storm overhead, its pitch black, I really don’t know if I’m close to the jug or not, the boat doesn’t know where I am, and I’ve got a 40 minute deco. I have never felt dumber in my life.
About the only thing I had going for me was the captain, who was a good friend of mine, whose identity I will protect, knew what the heck he was doing. I could hear the boat canvassing the area, and as it did I got out my dive light. Thankfully it was not flooded, as lights tend to do when you need them the most. After about 20 minutes, the boat roamed near my position, and as it did I waved my light wildly. Much to my relief, they saw the light and immediately pulled over top of me. Moments later, the best looking deco line I’d ever seen was offered, and I grabbed it gratefully. Still having 20 minutes to go and not wanting to share my fish with the sharks, I clipped my stringer on the line and floated the fish to the surface with my speargun. Twenty minutes later, I ran out of air at the same time my computer let me off the hook. My final relief was to discover that my wife was aboard safely.
Relief was quickly replaced with embarrassment, but my friends knew I felt stupid and were not too hard on me. I’m not sure what the moral of the story is, but I will guarantee you I will never do that again. Not only did it endanger me, but that’s not the kind of guy you want to dive with. Thankfully, everybody forgave me, and I got a little wiser.
John