Diving the Weedline.

If you only dive on larger charter boats and don’t have access to a personal boat for diving, chances are you’ve never stopped at a weedline.

Yesterday after diving the Oriskany, we came across a weedline—a line of weeds and debris that drifts with the mild current. Weedlines, though found in the middle of the oceans, seas, and gulfs are teeming with their own ecosystems. The life is abundant beneath, within and on top of the drifting mass. We were four grown men on a boat in a flat sea, and we all stood watch, pointing out everything we saw in the line like little kids at the zoo.

Watching as the boat idled alongside the line, I was taken back to my childhood summers when I would walk along the creek in Daniel’s Run, looking for signs of life along the shore and under the water. Crayfish, water spiders, and a few small frogs was all we ever saw, but with each one we saw, we felt more and more fortunate. We’d pry up the big rocks just to see the crayfish, hoping to be surprised by a snake or a newt. Summer time was always an adventure searching along the creek, feeling like explorers in a new world, lost in time.

Investigating a weedline is one of those simple pleasures to experience during a summer when time doesn’t seem to matter. Like poking around the banks of the creek, we poked around the edges of the weedline. Through the water we could see the barracuda 25 feet down, lurking. So we stopped the boat and slipped over the gunwales with just our mask, fins, and snorkels. We stayed on the surface or just below the seaweed and peered as far as we could see in all directions. Below us were the barracudas, approaching slowly from the bottom, then turning off when they were 10 feet away. Just beneath the line were silver dollar sized File Fish, several large Triple Tails and thousands of bait fish. We saw quarter sized crabs swimming from one rest stop to another, and a few plate-sized Hawksbill turtles resting on the surface. Further down, we came across a 40 pound Cobia, followed by a bullshark who swam up from the bottom just to check us out.

It’s easy to lose track of time in a weedline. What had started out to be a quick 3 tank dive—out 7 back by 1pm—turned into a day long summertime adventure for a bunch of kids at heart. By the time we returned to the dock, the sun was going down, the memory in the camera was out of space, and the water and sandwiches had long run out. Though we returned, sunburned, thirsty and hungry, it was worth every bit of pain to check out what lay amongst the weeds.

If you find yourself on a boat on calm seas and quiet winds, keep an eye out for the weedline. It’s a wonderful experience most divers never stop to enjoy. So if you see one, call out. But don’t be surprised if I'm in the water before you.

Night Flying, Oriskany Dives and Buoyancy Control

The sun's been out, the moon's full over the gulf, and the seas have been calm over the last week. But this Sunday morning, I'm ashore taking a day off. The scents of sunscreen and salt air have given way the fragrances of soap and shampoo as I sit in my air conditioned office trying to keep the days straight. Between diving, flying a little golf, it's been a pretty busy week.

On Tuesday I went flying. My night currency was up in a few days, so I needed to log a few take offs and landings to keep current. So just after dark, I screamed down the runway two-six, lifted off, and headed west toward Gulfport, MS.. The plan was to to climb to 4500 and enjoy the waxing moon as it rested on the left wing. At altitude, I switched to auto-pilot, leaned my seat back a notch, and turned on the music. Tonight's choice included Jack Johnson, Buffett and a little Kenny Chesney. The night, with its moon reflecting off the dark gulf reminded me of so many night dives where I would turn off my light and allow my eyes to adjust to the ambient light. That Tuesday night, the sky held the same hues as the clear water of the Caribbean on a night dive.

The next day, I was up early to meet our guests at the boat. Five people were diving the Russian Freighter in preparation for a later dive on the Oriskany. Four of the five had never made a dive below sixty feet, so they made the intelligent choice of making their first dive below sixty feet at a site where they could reach the bottom without going into Deco or running out of air.

In diving the Oriskany one of the biggest issues I've come across so far is buoyancy control. By experimenting on a more shallow wreck will allow you to build the confidence needed for such a demanding dive as the Oriskany. If you have buoyancy issue on the Freighter, you'll only fall to 80 feet, and I'll be happy to come and get you, put some air in your BC and lead you on the test of the dive. But a buoyancy problem on the Oriskany can send you down to over 200 feet--far past the limits of a recreational diver, or divemaster. At that point, it's not rescue, it's a recovery.

As you're descending and getting near the getting-off point of the anchor line, add some air to your BC to allow for a little flare. Just as an airplane seems to level out just before touchdown, so should a diver. The idea is to give just enough of a blast of air to keep off the bottom, and allow you to become neutrally buoyant. Like flying, buoyancy control is easy once you've played around with the controls for a while.

On Thursday I came to the conclusion that I am a much better diver than golfer.

Later that week, I had to opportunity to lead another dive on the Oriskany. The seas were smooth, the winds calm, and sun was climbing. I got everyone over, and geared up myself. As soon as I hit the water and broke below the surface haze, I saw the island staring up at me through what looked like one eye. If you anchor in the near the front of the island, you'll see a large white circle just in front of the helm. It's a great place to land, get your bearings and take in the beauty.

As I swam around the site, I was amazed at how the finish was turning white. I was able to wipe off the powder that seemed to cover the island. Then as I swam around, I couldn't believe what I saw. Some knucklehead took some kind of pen, and wrote his name on one of the bulkheads just inside a hatch. I can't remember what the guy's name was, but who the hell would mark up such an honorable ship? Next time I go, I'll write down the name and forever check it against our manifest. I know it wasn't one of my divers, but now that I know people are capable, I'll have to add "no graffiti" to my divemaster's briefing.

Finishing up the second dive, I had to remove the anchor from the wreck. So I slipped down to 103 where the anchor lay hooked into a ladder. I loosened it and dropped it over the edge. And holding onto the line, I rode the anchor as we drifted away from Oriskany watching the mighty ship fade into the distance.

First Dive on the Oriskany

When that alarm went off at 0500, I flew out of the bed and bounded down the stairs like a kid at Christmas. Forty-five minutes later, I had coffee down, sandwiches made, tanks selected and gear loaded in the Land Crusher. I made it to the dock at the perfect time--after the boat's been loaded by Captain Dave. Then with all the passengers around, I gave the boat brief and we were off. Our time en route was to be one hour and fifteen minutes, but the seas were so slick, we made it in an hour.

By 0715 we were in the water. The current was ripping on the surface, so Dave tied a line to the bow from the stern...I could give you the exact name for the line, but my Divemaster Extraordinare Manual is across the room. Then with the current driving through us, we slipped into the water and grabbed onto the line. Hand over hand without kicking, we made our way to the bow, regrouped, and submerged. I went first, pulling myself throught thick current and murky water, keeping an eye on the others. Each in turned flashed the okay sign as I decended upside down so as to monitor their progress and comfort.

Then at 30 feet, the current stopped suddenly and the murk disappeared. And at 36 feet, I saw the top of the island still 40+ feet away. We followed the anchor down into the blue water, and the deeper we went, the more blue the water became. And in the calm blue water, it startled me when I realized exactly how large this reef was. I paused the group for a moment just so we could take in the majesty of the Oriskany...and I don't use the word "majesty" very often. In fact, I don't think I've ever used it.

We limited our dive to 100 feet, since we wanted to maximize our bottom time for two dives. There was so much to see as we circled the upper portions of the island. Hatches were open, calling for a peek inside. There was a small portal near a ladder where one could look out on the flight deck below to watch the launchings, and I wondered who might have stood there when Lt Johnn McCain's A-4 launched on that one day, never to return.

By arriving so early, we had the whole reef to ourselves as we swam under yard-arms, observation decks, and played on the upper most part of the island. We explored ever bit of the ship we could, given our limits. I was amazed at the amount of marine life it had already attracted.

After 30 minutes we began our slow rise to the surface, pausing once again to take in the view. No fish. No people. Just an honored ship, awash in deep blue.