Never have I seen the sea so dead flat calm out on the Channel Islands as it was this last weekend. I was out there for three days on the Truth, and after a day at Santa Cruz island, diving and assessing the weather and conditions we decided to take a chance that San Miguel Island would be diveable.
Before we left Santa Cruz, at Emerald Gardens, a young sea lion decided to join us, first by jumpin into the inflatable skiff, and then by loping up onto the swim platform and onto the dive deck.
He was gently ushered out the side gate before we headed off to our next site.
San Miguel and Santa Rosa sit further out to the west, unprotected by Pt Conception, and get the full impact of the NW swell and open ocean currents. We headed west the first night and camped on Santa Rosa, then continued to San Miguel for the first morning dives at Wyckoff Ledge on the south side of the small island.
Temps were a bit cooler at 50-52 than the water on Santa Cruz, and there were no Garibaldi, which don't range farther than Santa Cruz Island. But what we did have was 70' viz, and a magical underwater amusement park, full of deep canyons and walls covered with explosions of corynactus and other inverts, plus some of the biggest sheephead and rock fish I've ever seen.
We hung around the south side of San Miguel, jumping all day into the glassy flat water and dropping into mystical kelp forests harboring sea lions, huge fish, arches and tunnels, cowries, nudis, and horn sharks.
Depths ranged from the hundreds off Wyckoff Ledge to the 60s on the boulder fields and kelp forests.
We were wondering if conditions could possibly hold through the next day, which would maybe allow us a rare treat: avisit to the pinnacles to the west of San Miguel between Wilson Rock and Richardson Rock. These pinnacles are in the open ocea and usually undiveable due to swell and current. We anchored at about 7:30 am over the last pinnacle before the underwater range dropped into the abyss and took a look.
There was a ripping current but the sea was just calm enough to allow a relatively advanced dive for those who were just drooling to get in the water.
The bow anchor had been flipped over the edge of the north wall, near Heebie Jeebies, and divers were going down hand over hand on the line to get to the summit of the pinnacle in about 17 feet of water. Temp was 52 so not all that cold.
The current was washing over the top of the pinnacle requiring you to get right to the edge and kick forward and down the vertical wall. I was diving with Jeff, an adventurous robust individual who was on his first Channel Islands trip. We got past the lip of the precipice and soared down the dark north side of the wall.
As we drifted down the wall we could see shadowy divers way below us, beyond recreational dive depths, and we slowed our descent, stopping at around 70 feet to examine the face of the wall. Viz was probably around 50-60'.
Illuminated by my light we could see that there was a 10 meter vertical band of fantastic small white anemones so tightly packed onto the wall as to look just like snow. Not Metridiums, they were like albino corynactus, except not. I dodn't know what they were but they were unearthly beautiful in the dim north side morning light. On each side of the band of white anemones, extending right and left to the ends of the wall were huge plumes of regular strawberry anemones, coraline algae, sponges, and other inverts. Turning to the open ocean we could see huge sheephead and vermilion rock fish. They were the biggest I've ever seen. Looking down, we saw the sheer north wall gradually disappear straight down into the blank depths, punctuated only occasionally by faint bubble trails emerging from divers somewhere out of sight below.
We decided to peek around the east side of the wall thinking of swimming around the pinnacle, but the current was just howling around the edge and we backed off content to simply zig zag our way back up the wall, inspecting holes, cracks, and overhangs with my light.
Back at the summit we let the current lift us over the top and onto the anchor line which we grabbed and stood out like flags in brisk wind doing our safety stop. Back to the surface, ride the water to the stern of the Truth, and hook onto the swim step. There was a quarter mile of current line out, and thank god we didn't have to use it.
As we pulled anchor we saw the Vision heading out to the pinnacles. Apparently Truth Aquatics crews had heard about the conditions and had taken the boat out for a "staff outing" that would perhaps be possible maybe a half-dozen days a year.
Seeking shelter from the current and wind that had sprung up, we headed in toward the north side of the island to a spot called Hare Rock. Hare Rock is a dome like rock jutting out of about 60' of water and featuring huge fluted spires and buttresses of invertibrate festooned rock falling nearly vertically off the rock to the bottom. The vis was spectacular, about 60' and in sunlight finally, so we could really see everything.
More huge rock fish and sheephead, and I found the biggest Treefish I've ever seen sitting in a crack. When I approached to get a picture of him he always just flipped his tail around and disappeared into the wall. Above is a shot of a Copper Rock fish that was less shy.
Intensely beautiful were the bouquets of corynactus that billowed off the rock in huge patches. Life is so plentiful out on San Miguel, and so infrequently visited, that you have to see it to believe it. Here's a few pictures.
The run back to Santa Barbara from Miguel is a long one, and divers had plenty of time to pack up their stuff and log their dives. AT one point during the return Capt Bob spotted humpbacks slapping the water out in front of us and breeching gloriously, often completely out of the water.
Here are some more photos from Hare Rock.
Flickr: glimmer's Photostream
Before we left Santa Cruz, at Emerald Gardens, a young sea lion decided to join us, first by jumpin into the inflatable skiff, and then by loping up onto the swim platform and onto the dive deck.
He was gently ushered out the side gate before we headed off to our next site.
San Miguel and Santa Rosa sit further out to the west, unprotected by Pt Conception, and get the full impact of the NW swell and open ocean currents. We headed west the first night and camped on Santa Rosa, then continued to San Miguel for the first morning dives at Wyckoff Ledge on the south side of the small island.
Temps were a bit cooler at 50-52 than the water on Santa Cruz, and there were no Garibaldi, which don't range farther than Santa Cruz Island. But what we did have was 70' viz, and a magical underwater amusement park, full of deep canyons and walls covered with explosions of corynactus and other inverts, plus some of the biggest sheephead and rock fish I've ever seen.
We hung around the south side of San Miguel, jumping all day into the glassy flat water and dropping into mystical kelp forests harboring sea lions, huge fish, arches and tunnels, cowries, nudis, and horn sharks.
Depths ranged from the hundreds off Wyckoff Ledge to the 60s on the boulder fields and kelp forests.
We were wondering if conditions could possibly hold through the next day, which would maybe allow us a rare treat: avisit to the pinnacles to the west of San Miguel between Wilson Rock and Richardson Rock. These pinnacles are in the open ocea and usually undiveable due to swell and current. We anchored at about 7:30 am over the last pinnacle before the underwater range dropped into the abyss and took a look.
There was a ripping current but the sea was just calm enough to allow a relatively advanced dive for those who were just drooling to get in the water.
The bow anchor had been flipped over the edge of the north wall, near Heebie Jeebies, and divers were going down hand over hand on the line to get to the summit of the pinnacle in about 17 feet of water. Temp was 52 so not all that cold.
The current was washing over the top of the pinnacle requiring you to get right to the edge and kick forward and down the vertical wall. I was diving with Jeff, an adventurous robust individual who was on his first Channel Islands trip. We got past the lip of the precipice and soared down the dark north side of the wall.
As we drifted down the wall we could see shadowy divers way below us, beyond recreational dive depths, and we slowed our descent, stopping at around 70 feet to examine the face of the wall. Viz was probably around 50-60'.
Illuminated by my light we could see that there was a 10 meter vertical band of fantastic small white anemones so tightly packed onto the wall as to look just like snow. Not Metridiums, they were like albino corynactus, except not. I dodn't know what they were but they were unearthly beautiful in the dim north side morning light. On each side of the band of white anemones, extending right and left to the ends of the wall were huge plumes of regular strawberry anemones, coraline algae, sponges, and other inverts. Turning to the open ocean we could see huge sheephead and vermilion rock fish. They were the biggest I've ever seen. Looking down, we saw the sheer north wall gradually disappear straight down into the blank depths, punctuated only occasionally by faint bubble trails emerging from divers somewhere out of sight below.
We decided to peek around the east side of the wall thinking of swimming around the pinnacle, but the current was just howling around the edge and we backed off content to simply zig zag our way back up the wall, inspecting holes, cracks, and overhangs with my light.
Back at the summit we let the current lift us over the top and onto the anchor line which we grabbed and stood out like flags in brisk wind doing our safety stop. Back to the surface, ride the water to the stern of the Truth, and hook onto the swim step. There was a quarter mile of current line out, and thank god we didn't have to use it.
As we pulled anchor we saw the Vision heading out to the pinnacles. Apparently Truth Aquatics crews had heard about the conditions and had taken the boat out for a "staff outing" that would perhaps be possible maybe a half-dozen days a year.
Seeking shelter from the current and wind that had sprung up, we headed in toward the north side of the island to a spot called Hare Rock. Hare Rock is a dome like rock jutting out of about 60' of water and featuring huge fluted spires and buttresses of invertibrate festooned rock falling nearly vertically off the rock to the bottom. The vis was spectacular, about 60' and in sunlight finally, so we could really see everything.
More huge rock fish and sheephead, and I found the biggest Treefish I've ever seen sitting in a crack. When I approached to get a picture of him he always just flipped his tail around and disappeared into the wall. Above is a shot of a Copper Rock fish that was less shy.
Intensely beautiful were the bouquets of corynactus that billowed off the rock in huge patches. Life is so plentiful out on San Miguel, and so infrequently visited, that you have to see it to believe it. Here's a few pictures.
The run back to Santa Barbara from Miguel is a long one, and divers had plenty of time to pack up their stuff and log their dives. AT one point during the return Capt Bob spotted humpbacks slapping the water out in front of us and breeching gloriously, often completely out of the water.
Here are some more photos from Hare Rock.
Flickr: glimmer's Photostream
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You guys still planning on heading out for New Years? I called today and they said they're not taking reservations for a few months. Finally getting to dive more here in FL. 
