Saturday was a day for diving. I woke early, piddled around, and left the house a bit after six. Got gas and drove on up to Jenner to meet my fate. Fortunately on this day, my fate was to be bug in the middle of a big 'ol truck on a drive up the coast.
Bob was already there. We chatted until Jock showed up in The Pumpkin.
"Speak of the devil"
"Here comes Jock now, in his Yellow Van."
I was confused. "Is that yellow? I thought it was urine orange."
"Hey Jock, maybe the club should get a collection together to paint your van."
"Why? What's wrong with it?"
"The color. It is urine orange."
"I don't know what is up with your kidneys, but don't make fun of the Pumpkin!"
The conversation devolved into a discussion of the value of The Pumpkin. It is
a 1972 Westfalla Weekender, with the original paint. So afficiondos of the VW
Bus, this is a classic of sorts, gaining value with every day.
We drove on up to 'The Pullout,' where we loaded all of the gear into Bob's truck. It also developed that Jock respects The Pumpkin with all of his heart and soul. Or at least his kidneys.
The drive up was, as always, great fun. This time I sat nearly mute between Bob and Jock, taking in their experiences. The ocean is magnificent, and diving is fun, but the best part is the human comraderie. I am fortunate to have both Bob and Jock in my live. They each provide me with models, and lessons, and yes, wisdom.
We stopped at a couple of spots and hiked out to check out conditions. Things looked lumpy, with swells larger than my desire to dive, but we were having a good time hiking out to the ocean, and the day was beautiful. Jock said that visibility looked awful.
"But," Bob interjected, "It will get better when the sun comes out."
Jock pointed up, "Bob, the sun is out."
"I meant, when it is more overhead, and there is less of an angle for the rays of light hitting
the water."
We decided on Fisk Mill Cove. But the South side looked, to me, too ugly, while way off in the distance, behind the point, it looked calm. It turned out that I had read conditions correctly. We moved the car a bit, then scoped out the North side of Fisk Mill Cove. Success! A beautiful, flat, calm protected idealic bit of paradise.
We returned to the truck, chatting about manly man things and having a good time. We geared up quickly,
one might say 'smoothly' if one were inclined towards hyperbola, until Bob found the spot in his dive
'coffin' where the weight built is supposed to live, and wasn't.
Dive Coffin? Yes, Bob has assembled the ultimate dive accessory. A massive wooden box, into which is carefully arranged all of his dive gear. Tank and weights included. Some people make fun of it, and started to call it 'Bob's Coffin,' but I am pretty sure that they are just jealous.
Well, on this beautiful diving day, it was a lead free coffin. Bob tried on my weight belt, and Jock's,
and we all agreed to switch off weight belts. In practice, this meant that Bob got to make the rather
considerable hike in, and the rope assisted descent, without carrying lead.
The dive was great...I got my first ab in 18-20 feet of water. That is my deepest ab. I would dive down, and hit a layer of kelp near the bottom, then push it aside and pull myself through another three feet to get to the rock, then there were channels between the rock, and I could swim another three to six feet down into the channel.
The channels are magic.