Well, for a variety of reasons (spelled w-o-r-k, mostly) I hadn't been back in the water since we came home from Florida, so today was the day. I was going to try to hook up with some of the Fundies practicers, but they were meeting too late, so it turned out to be me, Peter and my friend Doug. We decided on Cove 2 for the single big reason that there was a big tidal exchange today, and the coves are always diveable. In addition, one almost always sees octopuses there.
I had another motive for diving, because I'm headed to MX at the end of the month, and I really wanted to practice some skills. I don't carry stages except there, and I get clumsy with the drop and pickup skills, and I also get clumsy with line running (although Peter says there's no point in doing it here, because doing it bare-handed is a totally different skill
). At any rate, there was a practice component for me. And for Doug, this was an opportunity to do some diver videography, as he will be helping out and videoing a class next weekend.
So, lots on the agenda, but the dive plan was simple -- the usual tour of Cove 2, max depth 80 feet, everybody with a vast oversupply of gas, deco upslope.
A quick gear check and off we went. We dropped where we were standing, which I hate -- it really takes me more than 3 feet of water to get my buoyancy sorted out and kind of make the transition from terrestrial to underwater animal, so these shallow drops always leave me out of sorts for a bit. I was leading, so we headed downslope, checking each side of the boundary rope for interesting critters, and finding a few of the usual suspects, including a couple very pretty kelp greenlings. At 50 feet or so, we found a healthy Giant Pacific Octopus on what looked like fairly recent eggs, and we were admiring her when another group of divers came through. Unfortunately, after that, we couldn't see her, so we moved off across the cove.
I really wanted to find a grunt sculpin today, and I found many grunt sculpin-like things, but none of them moved. The list of things we didn't see is actually longer than the list of the things we found, but that's winter diving. We got to the jackstraw pilings and looked for warbonnets, but no dice. Upslope, Doug found something on top of a piling that looked like a cross between a brotula and a baby cabezon -- it had a blunt head, a large cirrus coming off its nose, and a long dorsal fin running the length of the slender body. I THINK it was a juvenile cabbie, but it wasn't red. It behaved like a cabezon, though -- it just sat there and glared at us as we looked at it.
Under the Honey Bear was no octozilla today, but coming off the wreck was what I had been waiting for -- the thin line that guides a diver there. This was what I could clip my bottle off to, so I signaled the guys that I was going to do my stage drop, and Doug got in position to film. I was pretty pleased with it, overall, given that I haven't done one since November. I didn't get any regulators crossed and managed my clips nicely. I did forget to turn the bottle off, which Peter pointed out to me -- a good reminder. I picked the bottle back up without incident, and Peter told me he was cold, so we headed home. On the way, we swam over a field of 6 or 8 enormous alabaster nudibranchs, who were really remarkable for being headed somewhere in a hurry -- all of them! Clearly some chemical trace in the water was absolutely delicious (or terrifying, depending on where it was coming from).
At about 9 feet, we ran into the fresh water layer and viz went way down, so we thumbed it. I floated gently upward, taking about a minute to go nine feet, and enjoying the fact that I CAN do that.
We swam in, went to the Fish'n'Chips place, and had soup and hot drinks, and I got to review the video, which had a couple of very useful points. I mentioned forgetting to turn the bottle off, Peter said, "You won't do that again," and I agreed, and we went back to talking about octopuses and squid eggs, and the diving prospects for the next couple of weeks.
We were three happy divers, who enjoyed a pretty routine and pleasant dive together, and managed to work on some skills, give one another some feedback, and see ALL the turtles.
I had another motive for diving, because I'm headed to MX at the end of the month, and I really wanted to practice some skills. I don't carry stages except there, and I get clumsy with the drop and pickup skills, and I also get clumsy with line running (although Peter says there's no point in doing it here, because doing it bare-handed is a totally different skill
). At any rate, there was a practice component for me. And for Doug, this was an opportunity to do some diver videography, as he will be helping out and videoing a class next weekend.So, lots on the agenda, but the dive plan was simple -- the usual tour of Cove 2, max depth 80 feet, everybody with a vast oversupply of gas, deco upslope.
A quick gear check and off we went. We dropped where we were standing, which I hate -- it really takes me more than 3 feet of water to get my buoyancy sorted out and kind of make the transition from terrestrial to underwater animal, so these shallow drops always leave me out of sorts for a bit. I was leading, so we headed downslope, checking each side of the boundary rope for interesting critters, and finding a few of the usual suspects, including a couple very pretty kelp greenlings. At 50 feet or so, we found a healthy Giant Pacific Octopus on what looked like fairly recent eggs, and we were admiring her when another group of divers came through. Unfortunately, after that, we couldn't see her, so we moved off across the cove.
I really wanted to find a grunt sculpin today, and I found many grunt sculpin-like things, but none of them moved. The list of things we didn't see is actually longer than the list of the things we found, but that's winter diving. We got to the jackstraw pilings and looked for warbonnets, but no dice. Upslope, Doug found something on top of a piling that looked like a cross between a brotula and a baby cabezon -- it had a blunt head, a large cirrus coming off its nose, and a long dorsal fin running the length of the slender body. I THINK it was a juvenile cabbie, but it wasn't red. It behaved like a cabezon, though -- it just sat there and glared at us as we looked at it.
Under the Honey Bear was no octozilla today, but coming off the wreck was what I had been waiting for -- the thin line that guides a diver there. This was what I could clip my bottle off to, so I signaled the guys that I was going to do my stage drop, and Doug got in position to film. I was pretty pleased with it, overall, given that I haven't done one since November. I didn't get any regulators crossed and managed my clips nicely. I did forget to turn the bottle off, which Peter pointed out to me -- a good reminder. I picked the bottle back up without incident, and Peter told me he was cold, so we headed home. On the way, we swam over a field of 6 or 8 enormous alabaster nudibranchs, who were really remarkable for being headed somewhere in a hurry -- all of them! Clearly some chemical trace in the water was absolutely delicious (or terrifying, depending on where it was coming from).
At about 9 feet, we ran into the fresh water layer and viz went way down, so we thumbed it. I floated gently upward, taking about a minute to go nine feet, and enjoying the fact that I CAN do that.
We swam in, went to the Fish'n'Chips place, and had soup and hot drinks, and I got to review the video, which had a couple of very useful points. I mentioned forgetting to turn the bottle off, Peter said, "You won't do that again," and I agreed, and we went back to talking about octopuses and squid eggs, and the diving prospects for the next couple of weeks.
We were three happy divers, who enjoyed a pretty routine and pleasant dive together, and managed to work on some skills, give one another some feedback, and see ALL the turtles.
