I Have A Kelp Tattoo

Or, I Love Kelp

My Uncle's Question:  Have you ever gotten tangled up in kelp while snorkeling or SCUBAing?

My Answer: Not in any way that mattered. I'm very patient in kelp--my formative diving years were spent in free diving for abalone up north. Plenty of kelp practice. That said, I hate kelp-crawling (moving across the surface on the kelp); I had a dive partner once who decided we were too low on air and insisted that we had to kelp-crawl to stay on the surface and not use the tanks . . . . I'd been trained to slip under, whenever possible, and been trained to accept a lower pressure level in the tanks. Since he didn't hear me, I had to stick by him (he was my partner, after all), but that was a not quite necessary hardship). This was at Pt. Lobos a few years back, and I will say that my compass navigation did stick us in the middle of that thick kelp forest. Still, I would have switched to snorkels, even, and harbor-sealed under and up . . . .

Kayak Diver

Here's an image of my dive partner Gerald from last August up on the Sonoma Coast. Note that he's wearing a squid lid instead of a full hood. (Usually that's enough for this stubborn diver, but he got chilled this time around. I'll remind him next time. He won't listen.)

Good session, if a trifle cold and surgy.

I like surgy, actually. Here, the water looks rather flat, but we are in the lee of a thick kelp bed and in a lull between the swells moving through.

Dive Partners: Keith and Charlie

Quick look in the vault of time.

My pal Keith and Charlie-from-Moraga geared up for the abalone. I'm pretty sure that Charlie is laughing at something Keith has said. That's not an independent recollection, but rather my reading of body language --both Charlie's and Keith's-- and my general recollection of the camaraderie that made those dive trips such joys.

Kruse Ranch, I'm pretty sure: 1978 or 79 or 80 or 81. Most likely? 1980.

A vintage moment, for sure.

Keith: Inflatables Ready!

Here is a photo and close-up of my pal Keith Sanders from either 1978 or 1979. I should ask our friend Brad or Keith's brothers about the date, using the Buf-mobile there as an indicator. I can't recall when Keith moved on to his next car. I do recall missing this fine vehicle afterwards. The year is probably 1979, for I think I recall our each buying that style of wetsuit on sale from Steele's diveshop in Oakland; the two-piece above-the-waist bottom and hooded top with beavertail are pretty distinctive.

Keith and I have driven down on a weekday--or so it looks from the emptiness of the parking lot--to dive off Lover's Point in Pacific Grove. We were going to try out Keith's new inflatable boat, but then I wanted to use my own too. The orange pump-up canoe was a gift from my parents, and it had done fine service on the lakes and rivers of Northern California. I think this may have been the first time I would use it for ocean diving. We brought the boats down to this easy shore-dive spot to practice; we wanted to use the boats for expeditions up north on the Sonoma and Mendocino Coasts to enable us to reach more remote locations with scuba gear, specifically. As good divers, we were practicing at the easy location before trying out more extreme ones.

That's the Tinnery Restaurant across the street (or, it will be the Tinnery, at some point). And, while it is no longer in business, I still have the promotional bumper sticker on my "school" clipboard. Yes, I've been using the same clipboard since the mid-70's; this tool has lasted through school, college, warehouse work, driving deliveries throughout central California, swim classes, graduate school, and more than fifteen years as a college instructor: solid craftsmanship. Whenever I happen to notice that old blue legend across the back of the clipboard, I smile at the memories, the good times, it evokes. (The photo below, for the first time, shows me how ugly the clipboard is, but it never seems ugly in my hands.)

During a different dive trip, a bolt of lightning hit that same parking lot.

This particular photo never seemed all that remarkable, merely a document of the tools we were using to head out on the water. Of course, the shot has gotten more interesting for me with each decade that passes, and now that my Best Damn Dive Partner has passed on also, well, every shot counts.

My buddy Keith and our boats. I wonder how far out we really paddled before diving down with the tanks. Far enough.