To my delight, when I went out to get in my car after work last night, there was a message from OE2X, inviting me to dive today. I immediately got on the phone and RSVPed in the affirmative. Discussion eventually proved that Cove 2 was the best venue for time and efficiency purposes, so we agreed on a meet time and rang off.
Thus, at 11:30 this morning, my husband and I were in the car, driving across Lake Washington under beautiful blue skies and grinning because the air temperature was still in the 50's, which meant we wouldn't roast before we got our feet wet. We pulled into the parking lot at Seacrest, which was absolutely full. The bewildering part is that all those people are doing something OTHER than diving . . . Are non-divers ALLOWED at Cove 2? What do they DO there?
The tide was high, and the walk was short. The viz was short, too . . . A body's length was far enough for people to begin to fade into unreality, like something in a bad science fiction movie. It was like a halocline, but it was a "snot-o-cline" of stringy particulates punctuated by mist. By the time we achieved 40 fsw, it was good and dark, and remained so.
Due to OE2X's excellent navigational skills, we managed to find the logs at Olive's Den. No octopus sign to be seen, but a couple of large leopard dorids. As we moved back up, I was proud to discover not only another Northern Ronquil, but right next to it, a grunt sculpin, the first I've ever found underwater. Although I had my camera with me, I didn't think there was any point in unlimbering it in the miserable viz, so I can't PROVE I found a grunt sculpin. But I did. Either that, or the narcosis was treating me much better than usual.
We made an accurate and efficient ascent to the deeper jackstraw pilings, where there were no warbonnets to be found. Leaving the deeper pilings, we headed for where the shallower ones by the Honey Bear should have been, but in the night, someone had moved them. We found a vertical steel post which we all agree is in the immediate vicinity, but no pilings were to be seen. If anyone finds them, would you return them to Cove 2? They are missed.
The Honey Bear had also apparently sailed off into the sunset, so we began a meander upslope, when suddenly, OE2X, who had up to this point behaved predictably (with the exception of his bewilderment at the alteration of the underwater landscape) suddenly thumbed the dive. We were in an odd spot where one doesn't normally surface, but the thumb is the thumb, so I looked at my depth gauge and rapidly built a normal ascent profile in my mind. We had not assigned a deco captain at the beginning of the dive, as we had planned to swim upslope (there's a lesson here, if you missed it) and nobody called deco. I made assumptions of time to stops, but nobody seemed to follow me, so I just decided to stay with the team. We did a very slow ascent, including what seemed to be an interminable 15 foot safety stop, which turned out to be OE2X's attempt to placate his computer, which he had forgotten either to put in gauge mode or to put on 32%. Poor computer, it was terribly worried about his well-being, and despite our hour of meditation at 15 feet, it beeped anxiously at him during the whole surface swim back to shore.
It turned out that the peculiar point of ascent was mandated by my husband, for whom the combination of depth and rather awful visibility had proven to be a bit much, and had caused him to vacuum gas out of his tank at an unprecedented rate -- something like TWICE my rate!
Now, the funniest part of the whole dive was that Peter had chosen to do it in his "pool gear", the Balance BC and short hose regulator he uses for his DM classes. This was because he didn't want to go through the hassle of putting the cambands back on his backplate, which he has been using for doubles. At the end of the dive, standing in the shallows taking our fins off, Peter says to me, "You may NOT laugh at me, but I missed my backplate and wing." I am not laughing. But you may, if you like . . .
There are no pictures, but it was another delightful day of floating around underwater not seeing much at the Office
Thus, at 11:30 this morning, my husband and I were in the car, driving across Lake Washington under beautiful blue skies and grinning because the air temperature was still in the 50's, which meant we wouldn't roast before we got our feet wet. We pulled into the parking lot at Seacrest, which was absolutely full. The bewildering part is that all those people are doing something OTHER than diving . . . Are non-divers ALLOWED at Cove 2? What do they DO there?
The tide was high, and the walk was short. The viz was short, too . . . A body's length was far enough for people to begin to fade into unreality, like something in a bad science fiction movie. It was like a halocline, but it was a "snot-o-cline" of stringy particulates punctuated by mist. By the time we achieved 40 fsw, it was good and dark, and remained so.
Due to OE2X's excellent navigational skills, we managed to find the logs at Olive's Den. No octopus sign to be seen, but a couple of large leopard dorids. As we moved back up, I was proud to discover not only another Northern Ronquil, but right next to it, a grunt sculpin, the first I've ever found underwater. Although I had my camera with me, I didn't think there was any point in unlimbering it in the miserable viz, so I can't PROVE I found a grunt sculpin. But I did. Either that, or the narcosis was treating me much better than usual.
We made an accurate and efficient ascent to the deeper jackstraw pilings, where there were no warbonnets to be found. Leaving the deeper pilings, we headed for where the shallower ones by the Honey Bear should have been, but in the night, someone had moved them. We found a vertical steel post which we all agree is in the immediate vicinity, but no pilings were to be seen. If anyone finds them, would you return them to Cove 2? They are missed.
The Honey Bear had also apparently sailed off into the sunset, so we began a meander upslope, when suddenly, OE2X, who had up to this point behaved predictably (with the exception of his bewilderment at the alteration of the underwater landscape) suddenly thumbed the dive. We were in an odd spot where one doesn't normally surface, but the thumb is the thumb, so I looked at my depth gauge and rapidly built a normal ascent profile in my mind. We had not assigned a deco captain at the beginning of the dive, as we had planned to swim upslope (there's a lesson here, if you missed it) and nobody called deco. I made assumptions of time to stops, but nobody seemed to follow me, so I just decided to stay with the team. We did a very slow ascent, including what seemed to be an interminable 15 foot safety stop, which turned out to be OE2X's attempt to placate his computer, which he had forgotten either to put in gauge mode or to put on 32%. Poor computer, it was terribly worried about his well-being, and despite our hour of meditation at 15 feet, it beeped anxiously at him during the whole surface swim back to shore.
It turned out that the peculiar point of ascent was mandated by my husband, for whom the combination of depth and rather awful visibility had proven to be a bit much, and had caused him to vacuum gas out of his tank at an unprecedented rate -- something like TWICE my rate!
Now, the funniest part of the whole dive was that Peter had chosen to do it in his "pool gear", the Balance BC and short hose regulator he uses for his DM classes. This was because he didn't want to go through the hassle of putting the cambands back on his backplate, which he has been using for doubles. At the end of the dive, standing in the shallows taking our fins off, Peter says to me, "You may NOT laugh at me, but I missed my backplate and wing." I am not laughing. But you may, if you like . . .
There are no pictures, but it was another delightful day of floating around underwater not seeing much at the Office
