"The Point Arena dive is a club favorite...so get off your asses, and let's go diving!"
Okay! So the alarm blazed off at 5:15, which is my normal wakey time, now that I'm a bus-riding, San Francisco-Commuting, Working Son of a gun! I made it to Jenner in about 45 minutes (not counting getting gas), loaded my mountain of gear into Bob's truck and we flew up the coast.
We were the last to arive, at 8:10. Jock was already on the pier, getting his boat ready to load. He spent much of the trip manifesting his habitual lack of enthusiasm.
We decided not to try to make it to Arena Rock, so we loaded up to go Ab'ing, and entered the teeth of the contest, fighting our way 'uphill,' into the wind driven swells. Jock, Phil Mannix, and I were on Jock's boat. Some other people were on the other two boats, for a total of ten divers. I decided that I probably wasn't going to die when Jock reassured me that we were not going to dive the exposed ocean. I was reassured for a bit, but started to worry (just a little) when we were taking on so many waves, and so much spray that Jock put on his mask in order to see to drive the boat. I decided that if he started using his snorkel that I would be in real trouble.
We pulled into a little 'bay' behind an island, in 10-15 feet of water. The other two boats caught up. Jock was first in the water-he jumped in without weights, mask, or hood, to just 'get wet.' Bob told me that a couple of years ago, on a dare, Jock got a limit of abs without a wet suit. He is the only club member who has ever done it. Bob's take was that he 'couldn't do it, wouldn't try, and didn't even want to try.' Unfortunately, I can feel the blood of challenge building up...I think that only my inferior diving skills can protect me from trying to raise the gauntlet, (and of course, freeze my ass off!) by trying to match his record. Wait a second...
...okay, I'm back. I ran a bathtub of all cold water. I have officially decided that I am now, and forever more, out of contention for trying to limit on abs without a wet suit! I told the no wetsuit limit story to Molly and Heather. "Guys are so weird" Molly says.
Heather was pleased. "On the nose. Molly, you are only 12, and already you know everything you need to know about men."
Jock's wanderings made it so that I was the first in the water in full gear...
I made a couple of dives, and floated around, then I started to see the Abs! I suppose that the visibility wasn't too good, but it seemed totally fine. I am perhaps getting accustomed to not being able to see a damn thing.
My mask kept leaking. I would clear it on the surface, and by the time I got to the bottom I would see the world through a sloshing mess of water. I don't see all that well without my glasses, and this made it worse. I finally found an ab, and popped it, and it was legal and all was good, except that I wasn't relaxed, and I had these on the bottom working times of 'up to' 5-6 seconds...
So I practiced seal diving. This is when you float on the surface, like a seal, for long periods, interspersed with minor dives. It sort of worked. I went down again and popped an ab-really just pulled him off, they are easy to get when you catch them unawares, then realized it was short, so I put him back, swam on, and popped another, legal ab, and brought it up.
My mask leaking still annoyed, and I wanted to snort, so I pulled myself into the boat and rested for a bit, and blew out the monster accumulations of mucus. A good salt water douche is the best thing for (temporarilly) clearing up allergy symptoms!
Eventually I decided to rejoin the fray, and put my hood and all back on, taking especial care to get my mask to seal! The effort paid off, and I quickly popped a snail-damn, way too short-need to focus!
And then down I went and there was an ab, for me, and it was in my arms, as easy as that and I swam on and saw another, and I thought 'hell, if I get this one I won't have to make another dive!' Which is sort of a bad attitude, but I still have not achieved full communion with the sea (but as I write this, I want to be RIGHT BACK THERE! Damn it! Let me dive!!!!).
And so I came up with two abs, but one was just barely too small, so I took him back down, and I descended on a nice 8 incher, so I put my short-guy down, and popped big-honker, and came right up. I got a bit of salt water in my snorkel, but no problem, dropped him in the boat, started to pull myself up, and then BOOM! I was heaving! Great wracking waves of puke-ola action.
Fortunately, there was almost nothing in my stomach, but still I heaved. I pulled myself in the boat, and heaved a bit more, and then things calmed down in stomach land. Jock and Phil told me that salt water can do that. I suspect that they just said that to make me feel better, but I choose to believe them.
Phil and Jock came on board, and we all whisked ourselves back to the dock, met with a ranger, packed up, shared lies, and headed out.
Bob dropped me off at Jenner, with a few gratuitous comments about my mass of 'stuff.' "Shit Rich, you're worse than a woman."
But I noticed that he didn't complain when he was eating my Matzha crackers and kalamata olives! So I thanked him, and we said farewell, then I went on up to the overlook and watched the Russian River attack the Pacific. I took a few pictures, read my book, and then fell asleep and took a nap. When I woke up I realized that it was time to go because my left arm was sunburned.
The drive home from Jenner was a breeze, beautiful yellow trees by the side of the road (maybe they are what I am allergic to?)
The return to domestic bliss, and innocence then occured.
"Hold on Maddy, I want to put some Neosporin on this ochie. I don't even know where it came from."
"It probably came from a shark, because they always have sharp teeth."