coach_izzy
Contributor
Finally, after many delays, and cancellations because of the miserable weather, I was granted the privilege to dive Wreck Valley. This was my first trip into the moody waters of the Jersey Coast and what an adventure it was! Please bear with me as I share my experiences.
My gear bag for this trip consisted of the following:
I hired a Divemaster for this trip. His name is Joe Homsi. He was the assistant instructor for the Drysuit course, a member of the Tridents hunting team, and a very experienced Wreck Valley diver.
In trying to stay on the Holistic side of things, I opted for the electronic Relief Band to deal with motion sickness. Joe had suggested Dramamine or Bonine, but I figured that since I had never experienced motion sickness before, even in rough waters, I'd be ok. The Atlantic was a different animal though.
The 2-4 waves of the forecast, were only that, a forecast. The Relief Band was holding me well at first, but as we neared our destination, it started losing its effectiveness. Suiting up provided to be quite a challenge. Having the Relief Band at the highest setting made my grip slightly useless, and stopped providing relief. Joe was awesome in helping me suit up. He could see by my face what was going on. Staring at the horizon did very little to provide relief. The damage was already done. It was too late. the 2-4 waves were now more like 5-7 with ocassional 8 footers.
Joe suggested that we splash pronto, that way, the sickness would go away. Taking deep breaths and trying to stay focused I comply. Steve the captain, and Cindy Rolland, were helping us suit up and gave me instructions as to how to make it more efficient. Fins first. BC, next. Adjust it and clip on attachements. Gloves next. Hood and mask last. Nobody was wearing snorkels.
In seeing other divers suit-up I noticed something. Their gear was cofigured QUITE differently from mine. No retractable clips, only surgical tubbing with brass clips. No fancy buckels on knives, more surgical tubbing instead. ALL of the divers carried a pony bottle of AT LEAST 19 CF. Lots of re-arrangements are in order.
So it's our turn to splash. I learned the "Jersey Flop". Kneel on the side, holding firmly with your right side. Use your left to move all attachements out of the way, then hold mask and regulator. Roll and land on back. If ok, give signal and proceed to anchor line. It felt very natural, and in my opinion, far less traumatic than the giant stride and the back roll. I think I'm going to use it even in tropical boats.
After heading for the anchor we started our descent. Going along the anchor line, feeling the ocean toying around with me, descending into murky darkness, was something very unique, a very powerful experience. After reaching the bottom, Joe tied a line. Visibility was about 3 ft, with some spots nearing 10. There was very little to see, except Jellies, some fish, and lots of Junk of what was once a ship. Down 70 feet, after about 15 minutes, my left ear started giving me trouble. It had been achy and had a hard time equalizing the previous week at Dutch Springs. It had gone away, but now it seemed to have returned. We terminated the dive and started ascending. Had to slow down because I experienced a reverse squeeze. It did not last long, but was sufficient to have me concerned.
The safety stop was interesting. Holding to the anchor, bobbing up and down, it was surreal. Once on the surface, the ocean seemed moodier than before. Climbing the ladder with full gear was also a new experience. Perhaps the most challenging boat re-entry I've ever experienced. Once on the boat, Joe and I went over the dive. I decided to skip the second dive on account of the ear. It was a hard decision, but now thinking back, I'm glad I did.
The seas were now about 6 ft, with several 8 footers, and an ocassional 10 footer. That only meant one thing. The return of the sickness. I had forgotten all about it. I put the Relief Band back on, hoping for a miracle. I'm thirsty now. Had to reach down for Gatorade. Take a couple of sips, then it happened. Leaning over the rail of the boat, letting nature take its course, suffocating spasms, with the body refusing any conscious commands until the stomach is empty. Feel a little better now. Of course, had to stay hydrated, so I keep drinking water and gatorade. The cycle repeats. This went over 4 more times. The last time was kind of unexpected. Joe had gone for a second dive solo and had brought up a lobster. He was in good spirits and hungry and pulled out a huge sandwich. The sight of the sandwich was enough to make retch with far more violence than before. The pressure build up made my sinuses ache, and my eyes felt as though they were about to pop out of my head.
Time to return. Water still choppy and it was incredible to see the size of the waves chasing us. The sun is high and shiny, and a pleasant warmth and drowsiness surrounds all the divers. Everyone is napping in whatever position they're. Some are even standing up and napping. I'm not quite asleep. My eyes are closed, and though I cannot really move, I hear it all and feel the pleasant mix of sun warmth and salty wind. The entry back to the Inlet is a welcome change. The sea sickness is but gone, and thinking about I started realizing that Joe's sandwich looked pretty damn good. I'm feeling better except a slight throbbing in my head from all the retching. We're back and ready to unload.
So it went my first dive in the Atlantic. Would I be back? ABSOLUTELY! I'm taking a lot of lessons home, and intend to apply them. From the things that I take with me I can conclude that:
Questions and comments are welcome as long as they're constructive. If you post with attitude, you'll get attitude in return. Nobody was born knowing, and the learning process is part of the fun, thus, I share my experience, and I would love to hear from yours.
What an adventure this was. Some people think I'm nuts for having fun despite the sickness and the weather, but I guess they do not understand. The Atlantic with its roughness, has an alluring uniqueness that I find hard to resist. Diving will probably resume early next year. We'll see what the good doc says. Thanks all for taking the time to read this, and once again, constructive questions, comments, please fire away.
My gear bag for this trip consisted of the following:
- Bare XCD2 Tech Dry, with Bare T-200 undergarment. Purchased May 2005 after taking the Dry Suit Class with Lakeland Divers, and trying several models. I felt in love with this dry suit. Not the lightest, or fastest to dry, but I knew that, and that wasn't an issue.
- OMS SS Backplate with Comfort harness, and Oxycheq 30# Wing. Purchased October 2005. After diving in Cozumel with SS HP tanks and a Diverite Backplate and wing (rented) I decided to switch. I had tried SS tanks before in Florida with my Jacket BC, with very uncomfortable results. The tank flipped me over a couple of times and it did not feel very stable. Not so with the BP and wings. What a beautiful thing!
- FABER 120 HP SS tanks, filled with Nitrox 30. Love those tanks! Slightly larger than the AL 80, but lots more gas and lot less in the weight belt.
- DUI Weight & Trim 2. Once the Dry Diving started, ballast increased. The weight belt got too ackward and unbalanced, hence the DUI harness. I cannot praise it enough! I don't think I'll ever be able to go back to weight belt.
- Regulator was the Mares V16, with a proton first stage and Octopus. Mask was the Mares X-Vision, perhaps the best mask I've ever tried. Hood was a DUI goldcore for drysuit. A warm and easy to don and doff hood. Standard 5 mm neoprene gloves completed the attire.
- My bailout system... Hold on tight... I'm ashamed to admit it... was the Spare Air! :11: I know, I know... but allow me to continue please.
I hired a Divemaster for this trip. His name is Joe Homsi. He was the assistant instructor for the Drysuit course, a member of the Tridents hunting team, and a very experienced Wreck Valley diver.
In trying to stay on the Holistic side of things, I opted for the electronic Relief Band to deal with motion sickness. Joe had suggested Dramamine or Bonine, but I figured that since I had never experienced motion sickness before, even in rough waters, I'd be ok. The Atlantic was a different animal though.
The 2-4 waves of the forecast, were only that, a forecast. The Relief Band was holding me well at first, but as we neared our destination, it started losing its effectiveness. Suiting up provided to be quite a challenge. Having the Relief Band at the highest setting made my grip slightly useless, and stopped providing relief. Joe was awesome in helping me suit up. He could see by my face what was going on. Staring at the horizon did very little to provide relief. The damage was already done. It was too late. the 2-4 waves were now more like 5-7 with ocassional 8 footers.
Joe suggested that we splash pronto, that way, the sickness would go away. Taking deep breaths and trying to stay focused I comply. Steve the captain, and Cindy Rolland, were helping us suit up and gave me instructions as to how to make it more efficient. Fins first. BC, next. Adjust it and clip on attachements. Gloves next. Hood and mask last. Nobody was wearing snorkels.
In seeing other divers suit-up I noticed something. Their gear was cofigured QUITE differently from mine. No retractable clips, only surgical tubbing with brass clips. No fancy buckels on knives, more surgical tubbing instead. ALL of the divers carried a pony bottle of AT LEAST 19 CF. Lots of re-arrangements are in order.
So it's our turn to splash. I learned the "Jersey Flop". Kneel on the side, holding firmly with your right side. Use your left to move all attachements out of the way, then hold mask and regulator. Roll and land on back. If ok, give signal and proceed to anchor line. It felt very natural, and in my opinion, far less traumatic than the giant stride and the back roll. I think I'm going to use it even in tropical boats.
After heading for the anchor we started our descent. Going along the anchor line, feeling the ocean toying around with me, descending into murky darkness, was something very unique, a very powerful experience. After reaching the bottom, Joe tied a line. Visibility was about 3 ft, with some spots nearing 10. There was very little to see, except Jellies, some fish, and lots of Junk of what was once a ship. Down 70 feet, after about 15 minutes, my left ear started giving me trouble. It had been achy and had a hard time equalizing the previous week at Dutch Springs. It had gone away, but now it seemed to have returned. We terminated the dive and started ascending. Had to slow down because I experienced a reverse squeeze. It did not last long, but was sufficient to have me concerned.
The safety stop was interesting. Holding to the anchor, bobbing up and down, it was surreal. Once on the surface, the ocean seemed moodier than before. Climbing the ladder with full gear was also a new experience. Perhaps the most challenging boat re-entry I've ever experienced. Once on the boat, Joe and I went over the dive. I decided to skip the second dive on account of the ear. It was a hard decision, but now thinking back, I'm glad I did.
The seas were now about 6 ft, with several 8 footers, and an ocassional 10 footer. That only meant one thing. The return of the sickness. I had forgotten all about it. I put the Relief Band back on, hoping for a miracle. I'm thirsty now. Had to reach down for Gatorade. Take a couple of sips, then it happened. Leaning over the rail of the boat, letting nature take its course, suffocating spasms, with the body refusing any conscious commands until the stomach is empty. Feel a little better now. Of course, had to stay hydrated, so I keep drinking water and gatorade. The cycle repeats. This went over 4 more times. The last time was kind of unexpected. Joe had gone for a second dive solo and had brought up a lobster. He was in good spirits and hungry and pulled out a huge sandwich. The sight of the sandwich was enough to make retch with far more violence than before. The pressure build up made my sinuses ache, and my eyes felt as though they were about to pop out of my head.
Time to return. Water still choppy and it was incredible to see the size of the waves chasing us. The sun is high and shiny, and a pleasant warmth and drowsiness surrounds all the divers. Everyone is napping in whatever position they're. Some are even standing up and napping. I'm not quite asleep. My eyes are closed, and though I cannot really move, I hear it all and feel the pleasant mix of sun warmth and salty wind. The entry back to the Inlet is a welcome change. The sea sickness is but gone, and thinking about I started realizing that Joe's sandwich looked pretty damn good. I'm feeling better except a slight throbbing in my head from all the retching. We're back and ready to unload.
So it went my first dive in the Atlantic. Would I be back? ABSOLUTELY! I'm taking a lot of lessons home, and intend to apply them. From the things that I take with me I can conclude that:
- EVERYONE works as a team in the boat, whether crew or paying customer, they ALL pitch in to make sure ALL the gear is in and out of the boat promptly, regardless of whose it is. Everyone helps each other in and out of the water, and will do their best to comfort you during misery.
- Spare air is NOT suitable for wreck valley diving. Because of the nature of diving in this area, a Pony is indispensable, and something that I will acquire. I will be getting a 30 cf, Aluminum for my pony with another V16 and a proton first stage.
- My gear needs to get reconfigured ASAP. I looked more like a caribbean diver than a wreck diver.
- Relief band is useless in this area, maybe 2-or 3 footers, but beyond that, more a discomfort than a real solution. The rest of the divers either had dramamine or had developed their sea legs.
- Seeing the Doctor on November 22. Will get a referral for an ENT, get things taken care of. I've no pain or discomfort, but I do not want to risk it again.
Questions and comments are welcome as long as they're constructive. If you post with attitude, you'll get attitude in return. Nobody was born knowing, and the learning process is part of the fun, thus, I share my experience, and I would love to hear from yours.
What an adventure this was. Some people think I'm nuts for having fun despite the sickness and the weather, but I guess they do not understand. The Atlantic with its roughness, has an alluring uniqueness that I find hard to resist. Diving will probably resume early next year. We'll see what the good doc says. Thanks all for taking the time to read this, and once again, constructive questions, comments, please fire away.
