Wolf Waters

Scattered images from Sunday, April 3, 2011. The rocks and swell; dive partners; and another self-portrait #49.

Point Lobos, Carmel, CA: too much swell, too little visibility. Just up the coast at Carmel River Beach, four free divers had to be rescued. Discretion is the better part of valor, as they say.

Above you can see the swell hitting the point, though we were sheltered in the cove, easing our way into the water from the boat ramp. In the two shots of the surf hitting the rocks, I like how the waves seem to come from different directions. (Or, beautiful from any direction, any angle.)

We didn't even think about heading out there, but hoped to move off the boat ramp, drop down, and explore. Even in that modest hope, we were stymied as the visibility was less than three feet. Hold you hand out at arm's length, and you couldn't quite see your hand. That bad. Wiser heads no doubt expected the sheer murk due to all that swell, but we'd hoped for better conditions since the swell had been coming down. No luck. We bagged the dive and headed back to shore. Frustrating, yes, but also good practice.

Other divers claimed that visibility improved to 10 or even 20 feet further out, but we had already derigged and unsuited by the time they reported back. (I almost said "we'd defrocked," but that's just frustration talking.) Perhaps visibility would have been improved further out in the soup, but the dense murk promised little for a lot of energy. Still: what if, what if? Lobos is one of best spots on the Central Coast for heightened visibility. Cold water, too, from the undersea canyons, but such waters often bring greater range of vision too.

Seaside Phat Burger chicken combo pleased me and consoled me. Maybe we didn't get a full dive in, but we suited up, got wet, meant well, and ate well too.

Next time, you know?

Temptation in Blue and White

Point Lobos, Carmel, CA: Sunday, April 3, 2011.

Wouldn't it be cool to swim out there in all that?

I didn't; I'm older and wiser.

But I wanted to.

Maybe on the kayak?

No, with the fins. Just the fins.

Next time. Sure.

Sea-Wolves

Sea-wolves; or, happy divers at Pt. Lobos.

I've mentioned my old surf-mat, circa 1978, with all the poetry and the Greek naiad eyes in permanent marker (pre-Sharpie days, my friends), and on that 'mat you can still read a popular 19th-century poem called "The Sea-Wolf," though I can't quite read those markings enough to tell you the poet's name. I'll have to do some research and report back. (It may be summer, but those words bring the daily classroom right to me, happily so.) I'll blog on that 'mat, just as soon as I take a good photo and decipher all the faded poems and sayings. ("Kiss my ab"--as in abalone--is still legible.)

Here are two 20th-century sea-wolves. Well, I'm definitely (and defiantly) 20th-century; Philip, my dive partner here, would probably claim to be 21st-century, and power to him, the young rascal. Carolina took the photo, for which I thank her. (If you are looking for a water-sprite, you should seek her out.) She caught Philip and myself smiling, and though we look goofy, as everyone does in neoprene, you can't blame that on her. There's nothing false about such high spirits, and Carolina documented it. That happens far less often than it should.

Pt. Lobos, Carmel, CA. Early December, 2009, though doesn't it look like a wonderful summer day? (Not a summer day in Carmel, though, since there would be fog, lots of it.) Glorious day. Great temps, 60's and even low 70's, on land; possibly high 50's in the water. However, visibility in the water was quite poor: five feet at best? I recall Philip keeping even with my fins just to not lose me; I was checking every half-minute or so. I was so glad he was sticking tight; I didn't want to get separated and lose dive-time just reconnecting at the surface. We headed out, moving along the alley out there, hugging the rocky configurations to the left, and headed back, still hugging that same side. Lots of fish, however unclear, and fun in the surge, but that's why you dive, good viz or not.

The high points of this dive were (a) when the big ling cod pushed us aside to return to his favorite crevice and (b) when we managed to navigate right back to our starting point without undue surface swimming or kelp-crawling. That last blessing was pure luck, as I recently discovered; in my latest dive at Pt. Lobos, I navigated my partner and myself into a long kelp-crawl without enough air or weight (a different story) to leap-frog our way back to the boat-channel and launch zone.

I'm going surfing and free diving tomorrow: Cowell's Beach, Santa Cruz. Lindamar in Pacifica is my back -up. I haven't surfed in a long time, and I've only progressed to being an apprentice (don't-wannabe-kook) anyway. After a session reminding myself how much I should have been surfing already (best prep) or doing more pop-ups (2nd best), I think I'll swim out with a camera and try to document some happy surfers. Looking at Carolina's photo here has given me that idea.

"Touch magic, and pass it on." (Terri Windling? Charles de Lint? Robert Graves? William Butler Yeats? The Waterboys? Read Windling's The Wood Wife; de Lint's Memory and Dream; Graves' Homer's Daughter; and Yeats' "At Baile's Strand." Listen to the Waterboys' Fisherman's Blues.) "Touch magic, and pass it on": Jane Yolen, those Merlin stories, I think.

By the way, that's me on the left. I think my tank is hanging a bit low here, a habitual error. I position the tank low because I don't want to hit the tank with the back of the head as I look up and about while diving, but the tank has been slipping down in the pack a bit too much the last few dives. What goes down could come up. In a heavy surf-exit, that could matter. At Lobos, at this protected entry/exit, no big deal; at a steep beach like Monastery, now, I could knock myself out. Wouldn't that be truly goofy? I'd better fix that.

Postcard: Pt. Lobos in January

Pt. Lobos, January 2010: I'm standing with Kathie, one of Jim Grass's diving partners. Frank K. took and provided the photo. Kathie and Tom (not pictured) let Frank and myself tag along with them. Everyone that I've met through Dr. James Grass has been especially welcoming and helpful.

Note that I'm still wearing half my wetsuit in anticipation of a second dive. (Actually, the first dive was so good, so long, and so cold that--uncharacteristically--there was no second dive for me. I traded that potential water-time for lunch with Frank. Kathie and Tom went back underwater to shoot photos; Frank and I headed for Phat Burger in Seaside. And, the burger, a bacon cheeseburger actually, was really, really good.)

Chilly, yet mild for January; wool helped, still. Surge, sure, but not so bad. Good visibility: 35-40 feet. A fine diving-day.

Morning Light Before Diving

Whaler's Cove, Pt. Lobos State Park, Carmel, CA.

We headed out of this cove for our dive, seeking greater depths and better visibility than we'd have found here. I'm told the leopard sharks would have been gathering in the shallows, so exploration could have paid off. (There were two highlights of the actual dive for me. A cormorant kept swimming down by us at 60 feet and picking snails off the kelp. That bird was so relaxed and capable at depth. And, a sizable lingcod just lounged about, watching us watch him; you had to smile.)