August 24, 2013
My first official open water dive. Here's how it happened:
I decided on a whim to visit one of the 4 knuckleheads. Kristen decided to move away to Indiana a few years ago and life has not been the same. A few nights before leaving, I went to dive night. Mike handed me a Dive Training magazine, which I took in my carryon. I have never read a magazine cover to cover in my life. This one, I did.
This issue was written just for me, it seemed. There was an article about drift diving, which I will be doing in Cozumel. When I got to the end, there was a highlight on a dive site in, where else? Indiana. It's about 2 1/2 hours from Kristen's house, but she's a sport and went on the adventure with me.
Only now, it felt a little less like adventure and more like butterflies. I don't have a buddy, none of my scuba crew will be with me, and I have no idea how to dive in anything but a pool. For reassurance, I text Instructor Mike to see if there is anything special I need to know for diving a quarry. No, he says, just remember your training... And make us look good. Ha! What a joker. Now I am going into the unknown. Relax, I can do this.
Preparation for the dive seemed easy in comparison. I just called, asked for some info, said that I was from out of town and wanted to come diving. One problem, still. I'm a solo diver, which is a no-no. Larry, one of the owners (?) said that you can usually find a buddy and if it wasn't busy, he would go with me. So, rental gear, my own gear, and buddy down, let's go!
I am not usually one for road trips, but this drive was amazing. Kristen put on show tunes, we blasted through tiny towns in Indiana, some without even a single stoplight. Miles and miles of cornrows and soybean fields. Pit stop at a Taco Bell for a mutant taco made from Dorrito Fire taco and volcano taco. None for me, though. Could you imagine being underwater and having Taco Bell revenge? 2 1/2 hours later, we arrive at France Park, just as the cell phone signal dies. Black hole of technology.
France Park has zip lines, a campsite, and the diving quarry. The attendant gave us directions by way of follow the road to the right and it's at the end. 3 wrong right turns later and trip through some neat campsites and we stop a couple to ask if they've seen any scuba divers. We finally find the beach and it's stunning. Tall cliffs over calm, green waters. We make our way to the shack with the dive flag on it.
Time to gear up. Pilot BCD, check. It's weight integrated, but the pieces are missing. I have to put the weights in the pocket, since my weight belt is back home, in Oklahoma (whoops). My usual 4 pounds of weight in the pockets, check. Tank, check. 3000 psi in the tank, check. More than I have had before. Does that make a difference? Trying to remember the manual. Air would be heavier since there is more compressed in the tank. What's this yellow thing? Octopus. Ok. That's new. Gauges, check. Weights, check. Time to hook in and become streamlined. What do I do with the octopus? I'm going to have to ask. Apparently, there is a yellow stretchy thing on my jacket that goes around the octo. Side note. I'm working on the vocabulary for this sport. Gages hook in with a retractable clip, neat. Ready for entry. (hee hee)
My dive buddy, Garrett, is from the Wabash Scuba Club. He said that the quarry is his favorite dive site. The quarry is 30 feet deep max. This makes me feel a little better, since I know I can CESA in an emergency and reach the surface. Garrett is in the water before I start my buddy check. I look like a newbie on the beach checking myself out. Oh well. Following the rules is cool. Bikini Wax Removes All Fluff. I'm all checked out. Now to ask Garrett about his releases and alternate air. Easy enough. Buddy check complete
The plan is to swim out to a buoy that is over an underwater platform, then follow the lines to the sunken school bus. After that, something about fish breeding grounds. I missed that part in the excitement of swimming out. Time to start letting the air out of my jacket and descend. 1..2..3 inches and then, I'm neutrally buoyant. I release all the air out of my lungs. Nothing. Uh oh. I missed something. A weight check at the beach. Damn. I will eventually figure out that I am wearing an aluminium tank instead of steel. I should have asked what kind of tank I was renting. I have to swim about 150 yards back to the beach, climb out of the water, up the beach for more weight. I estimate another 8 pounds should do it, since I did not account for the 5 needed for an empty air tank the first time around.
Back at the buoy and a few apologies later, we are ready to descend. I set my compass for the sunken bus. This time, it was textbook. Descend slowly, equalize, look down, repeat. I floated slowly to the bottom and, in typical scuba student formation, landed on the platform kneeling. I recheck the fit of my gear, made sure everything was where it should be, grab my compass, OK to my dive buddy, and set of in the correct direction. I'm diving! Underwater! Bliss! My heart is pounding and I can feel the adrenaline surge. Awesome!
I notice that there is a yellow line from the platform headed in the direction of the bus. I try not to pay attention to it as I use my compass. I'm doing pretty well until I loose light of the rope. I check with my buddy and he's patiently following. I recheck the heading and have veered off a little. A small readjustment finds me back with the yellow rope. As I'm swimming, I am trying to count my kicks to estimate the distance. Back in the pool, 16 kicks = 75 ft. I'm counting more than 50, so I think I am just kicking too fast. I'll eventually get the hang of it. It feels like every few kicks, I am checking on my buddy. I wonder if that's too often.
A shadow looms in the darkness ahead and to my right. I am checking my depth and compass heading when I notice a fish chilling on the rocky bottom. I exhale to investigate. A catfish about the size of both my hands laid end on end. I feel a tap on my shoulder and my buddy points at the murky shape of the back of the bus a few feet from me. Way to be aware of your surroundings, Jen. The yellow rope has lead us to the sunken school bus. I really want to go inside the bus, but my buddy doesn't, so I don't. Around the side, and to the front, I follow my buddy. He's stirring up the silt on the bus and bottom, but it's not bad. To the front and my buddy points to the driver in the bus. Wait, driver? I can't quite make it out, swim a little closer. WHOA. Skeleton driving the bus. Creepy. Around the side, there is another yellow rope going off to the west. Let's follow that.
I set my compass heading, and try to communicate what I'm doing with my buddy, but he thinks I am trying to tell him how much air I have left. Oh well. Mental note: Must remember to ask what the sign for compass heading is. I'm concentrating on the rope and compass and nearly run head first into a giant truck tire suspended in the water. Neat. This tire is big enough for me to swim through all tucked in and glide through without touching. And I do just that. Prep for cave diving? Not a chance. I saw Sanctum. But, it was fun.
The rest of the dive was a general mozy back towards the entry site. The only noteworthy things were the paddlefish I finally saw at the end of the dive, the cold spot we found that made me wish for my wetsuit and my equipment malfunction. The malfunction being I was looking under a rock upside down when my weights fell out of my jacket pocket. As I casually reach down for it, I realize I am floating alarmingly fast to the surface. A few well timed kicks, an exhale and a grab for the weights brings me back under control. My buddy sees my struggle and comes to help, but I have both the weights in hand and secured in my pocket before he can get close enough. We have to swim off because the rookie stirred up the bottom.
Once we reached the allotted air pressure, we signaled to surface and I headed up. I went slower than my bubbles, but faster than my buddy. Oops. So, I just hang at the surface and watch him surface while I snorkeled. Thus ends my first dive. Like a good student, I log the dive in my book and get a cool stamp with a dive flag and paddelfish and have my buddy autograph.
Quick text to the Grand Puba to acknowledge my good behavior, a little word vomit, and we are back in the car headed home. I could really use a nice, cold Coors. Official celebratory beverage of the divers of Scubabros.
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