Can you relate to this?
Despite all the hassles involved in making a winter dive happen, once I'm in the water, it's all worthwhile! Even in our cold Northeast Winter!
Maybe I'm just getting too old, but the prospects of packing too much gear, getting to bed too late, getting up too early, driving too far, diving too cold or too short, getting home too late and getting way too tired always make me look for excuses not to go....
Then, as the weeks pile up since the last dive, as weather and sea conditions repeatedly block any reasonable opportunity to dive, as general laziness and boredom begin to take over, suddenly all the excuses dissolve and I've just got to go.
Just for some winter dives?.... :11:
And what do I get out of it?
What do you get out of cold winter dives that make them worthwhile to you?
Dive report:
Yesterday morning at Front Beach in Rockport, MA, the parking was easy, the sun felt warm without a breath of wind, and the water was clear and flat. The locals were friendly, a good dive buddy was handy, and the diving was going to be enjoyable, if not special.
Gearing up took quite a bit of time, but that gave old friends and passersby an opportunity to say hello and chat.
We finally got into the clear, cold water for a rare chance to buddy dive.
I took a bunch of underwater pics of my buddy, since he doesn't have many. He poked around for lobsters, but knew there wouldn't be any. I even got a pic of myself, thanks to having a buddy.
After 55 minutes, since he had other commitments, my buddy had to head in and we separated in the shallows near the entry. People and dogs on the beach came over and greeted him as he walked out of the water back to the vehicles. The people you meet here are a nice part of diving this site near town.
I descended and continued my dive in a new direction and tested the limits of my insulation in the 38F water, doing a very long first dive and, after a modest surface interval, another moderately long second dive. I was pleased: it's like summertime all year now.
I gave some thought about doing only one dive, but I reminded myself of how it works: "Once I'm in the water, it's all worthwhile".
Several times I measured the vis to be 40', and once as high as 50'.
Poking along slowly in my glacial fashion, I enjoyed the clear water, usually suspended just off the bottom with a magnifying glass handy, sometimes rising to mid-column in the 30' of water to get a more expansive view of the bottom as the bright shafts of sunlight pierced the calm surface above.
Critters were few and far between, but they included a small moon snail gliding up and down the sand ripples on the bottom; a 4-inch sea raven gulping unlucky shrimp that passed too close; and northern cerianthids sweeping food into their mouths with their long tentacles. I don't need reminding to wait long enough for them to perform. They move at my pace. There were also a few tiny blood sea stars less than an inch across. A few green sea urchins. Even saw a winter flounder, which isn't very common this time of year.
I had a spark of hopeful excitement as a bright white object came into view between some rocks: a length of nice, new 1/2" nylon rope stretched out haphazardly....could there be anchor on the other on the other end stuck in the rocks?
Salvage is my life....Gad, how I love it so.
Followed the line about 20' to the neatly spliced loop on the other end. That's fine, no anchor, but I can use a nice dock line!
Coiled it up and hung it from my flagline handle and continued along.
Found a cheap dive mask mostly buried in the sand, just the model name showing: "Bimini". No strap. Don't need it, left it for the next guy.
On the second dive, about 300 yards from the beach, along the edge of a rocky shoal in 30' of water, the huge abandoned mushroom anchor and concrete block came into view. It's my typical point to turn the dive. Boy, I'll bet I could use that heavy chain for something....naw, the basement's full.
On the return leg, I quickened my pace a bit to generate a little more heat. My insteps and toes tend to get cold near the end of the day. Kept my drygloves elevated to fill them with nice warm air and occasionally worked my fingers to warm them. They stayed in good shape.
No muscle cramps anywhere because I stayed nice and warm. Certainly not because of physical fitness, ha, ha!
As I surfaced at dead low tide and stood in the shallow water, I looked at the 100-yard stretch of shallow water and sand I'd have to cross. My gear began to feel increasingly heavy. Thankfully, the sand was mostly firm.
Then there was the last hurdle of eight granite steps to climb to street level. They seemed higher than usual. One slow step at a time, push.... push.... It felt great to finally get the gear off.
Spent the next hour slowly, methodically rinsing and stowing my gear, talking with passersby and watching the dogs and people enjoying the beach while the setting sun painted the sky.
I really enjoyed rinsing my head in my cooler of hot water. Oh, yeah....
Then, a stop for hot chocolate and a muffin and a warm two-hour drive home followed by unpacking. 15 hours total time for this dive day.
Call me crazy, but I call that a good day. Glad I went!
Pics follow.
Dave C
Parking was ample. My dive buddy, Arnie, says hello to a passerby.
Flat calm. Arnie waits for the slow guy....
Buddy Arnie in good trim. Looking for lobsters is a genetic trait for him....
Yours truly.
Arnie preparing to exit. Parking area on the street seen in background. That's my summer house on the right. (Of course I'm lying! That's the summer house of a guy who lives only 30 miles away, seriously....)
Arnie, heading out. The dogs haven't seen him yet. A lifted leg spells trouble....
2" moon snail racing across the dunes.
Northern cerianthid in feeding mode.
Another northern cerianthid.
Small sea raven. He's ticked off because I scared away some shrimp he hoped would swim by. Little piglet ate three while I was watching him!
Large mushroom mooring anchor, probably 400lbs. Chains attach it to a concrete block. This summer, a compressed and encrusted mooring buoy reading "Ocean Reporter" was near the torn buoy in this image. It's in my basement now, inflated and good as new! The Ocean Reporter is still actively fishing, but is moored in Sandy Bay Yacht Club now. Don't tell them I have their buoy! Its' "finders keepers, losers weepers" anyway....
Despite all the hassles involved in making a winter dive happen, once I'm in the water, it's all worthwhile! Even in our cold Northeast Winter!
Maybe I'm just getting too old, but the prospects of packing too much gear, getting to bed too late, getting up too early, driving too far, diving too cold or too short, getting home too late and getting way too tired always make me look for excuses not to go....
Then, as the weeks pile up since the last dive, as weather and sea conditions repeatedly block any reasonable opportunity to dive, as general laziness and boredom begin to take over, suddenly all the excuses dissolve and I've just got to go.
Just for some winter dives?.... :11:
And what do I get out of it?
What do you get out of cold winter dives that make them worthwhile to you?
Dive report:
Yesterday morning at Front Beach in Rockport, MA, the parking was easy, the sun felt warm without a breath of wind, and the water was clear and flat. The locals were friendly, a good dive buddy was handy, and the diving was going to be enjoyable, if not special.
Gearing up took quite a bit of time, but that gave old friends and passersby an opportunity to say hello and chat.
We finally got into the clear, cold water for a rare chance to buddy dive.
I took a bunch of underwater pics of my buddy, since he doesn't have many. He poked around for lobsters, but knew there wouldn't be any. I even got a pic of myself, thanks to having a buddy.
After 55 minutes, since he had other commitments, my buddy had to head in and we separated in the shallows near the entry. People and dogs on the beach came over and greeted him as he walked out of the water back to the vehicles. The people you meet here are a nice part of diving this site near town.
I descended and continued my dive in a new direction and tested the limits of my insulation in the 38F water, doing a very long first dive and, after a modest surface interval, another moderately long second dive. I was pleased: it's like summertime all year now.
I gave some thought about doing only one dive, but I reminded myself of how it works: "Once I'm in the water, it's all worthwhile".
Several times I measured the vis to be 40', and once as high as 50'.
Poking along slowly in my glacial fashion, I enjoyed the clear water, usually suspended just off the bottom with a magnifying glass handy, sometimes rising to mid-column in the 30' of water to get a more expansive view of the bottom as the bright shafts of sunlight pierced the calm surface above.
Critters were few and far between, but they included a small moon snail gliding up and down the sand ripples on the bottom; a 4-inch sea raven gulping unlucky shrimp that passed too close; and northern cerianthids sweeping food into their mouths with their long tentacles. I don't need reminding to wait long enough for them to perform. They move at my pace. There were also a few tiny blood sea stars less than an inch across. A few green sea urchins. Even saw a winter flounder, which isn't very common this time of year.
I had a spark of hopeful excitement as a bright white object came into view between some rocks: a length of nice, new 1/2" nylon rope stretched out haphazardly....could there be anchor on the other on the other end stuck in the rocks?
Salvage is my life....Gad, how I love it so.
Followed the line about 20' to the neatly spliced loop on the other end. That's fine, no anchor, but I can use a nice dock line!
Coiled it up and hung it from my flagline handle and continued along.
Found a cheap dive mask mostly buried in the sand, just the model name showing: "Bimini". No strap. Don't need it, left it for the next guy.
On the second dive, about 300 yards from the beach, along the edge of a rocky shoal in 30' of water, the huge abandoned mushroom anchor and concrete block came into view. It's my typical point to turn the dive. Boy, I'll bet I could use that heavy chain for something....naw, the basement's full.
On the return leg, I quickened my pace a bit to generate a little more heat. My insteps and toes tend to get cold near the end of the day. Kept my drygloves elevated to fill them with nice warm air and occasionally worked my fingers to warm them. They stayed in good shape.
No muscle cramps anywhere because I stayed nice and warm. Certainly not because of physical fitness, ha, ha!
As I surfaced at dead low tide and stood in the shallow water, I looked at the 100-yard stretch of shallow water and sand I'd have to cross. My gear began to feel increasingly heavy. Thankfully, the sand was mostly firm.
Then there was the last hurdle of eight granite steps to climb to street level. They seemed higher than usual. One slow step at a time, push.... push.... It felt great to finally get the gear off.
Spent the next hour slowly, methodically rinsing and stowing my gear, talking with passersby and watching the dogs and people enjoying the beach while the setting sun painted the sky.
I really enjoyed rinsing my head in my cooler of hot water. Oh, yeah....
Then, a stop for hot chocolate and a muffin and a warm two-hour drive home followed by unpacking. 15 hours total time for this dive day.
Call me crazy, but I call that a good day. Glad I went!
Pics follow.
Dave C
Parking was ample. My dive buddy, Arnie, says hello to a passerby.
Flat calm. Arnie waits for the slow guy....
Buddy Arnie in good trim. Looking for lobsters is a genetic trait for him....
Yours truly.
Arnie preparing to exit. Parking area on the street seen in background. That's my summer house on the right. (Of course I'm lying! That's the summer house of a guy who lives only 30 miles away, seriously....)
Arnie, heading out. The dogs haven't seen him yet. A lifted leg spells trouble....
2" moon snail racing across the dunes.
Northern cerianthid in feeding mode.
Another northern cerianthid.
Small sea raven. He's ticked off because I scared away some shrimp he hoped would swim by. Little piglet ate three while I was watching him!
Large mushroom mooring anchor, probably 400lbs. Chains attach it to a concrete block. This summer, a compressed and encrusted mooring buoy reading "Ocean Reporter" was near the torn buoy in this image. It's in my basement now, inflated and good as new! The Ocean Reporter is still actively fishing, but is moored in Sandy Bay Yacht Club now. Don't tell them I have their buoy! Its' "finders keepers, losers weepers" anyway....
