Date: 1-21-07

Location: Scripps Canyon, North Branch: ‘Cathedral Heights’

Time: 11:45 am

Temp: 55 F.

Surface Conditions: noticeable surface wind, estimated: 10-15 knots, causing 1-2 ft. surface chop; 3-4 open ocean swells

Viz at Depth: 25-30 ft.

Max Depth: 130 ft.

Mix: 28%/40% deco

Critters: Moray Eel [the same one, too--Whoo--Hoo!], Vermillion Rockfish, Golden Gorgonians in abundance, Hermessindas, Scallops, Blacksmith and ISIFS [I'm Sure I'm Forgetting Something...]

We motored out under a stiff sea breeze and choppy seas towards Scripps Canyon this morning, with 3 hard core Techies on board, eager to explore the depths of the spot we have dubbed ‘Cathedral Heights’, due to the spectacular walls and crevices in that area. And, you know what a Techie is, right? Those guys who go to absolutely ungodly depths with 10 minute bottom times and 2 hrs. of deco.

With all the gear and doubles on board, combined with a strong headwind, it took us slightly longer than the usual 30 minutes to get out there, but once there, we consulted the spot we had marked last time on the GPS and the underwater Scripps maps we had brought and were able to give a pretty decent dive site briefing to Tyler and Paul. Their plan was to run a line from our anchor over the edge of the canyon wall, down to around 280 or so and then follow it back up, once their planned bottom time was up.

Charlie’s plan was to let them go down first and he would follow their line, but ‘only’ to 200 and then come back by himself, since he didn’t have the backgas to follow them all the way down. Then, Barbara and I would would run our own line from the anchor to around 100 ft. or so and tie it off, and come back up the way we came.

Ah, the best laid plans of mice and men, eh?

So…….Tyler and Paul went in first and we gave them a 90 min. head start [their 'planned' dive profile] and then sent Charlie in after them, before suiting up ourselves and jumping in the water, once Charlie returned, about 60 mins. later.

So, once Charlie was back in the boat, reporting nice 25 ft viz and lots of marine life, Barbara and I splashed in and made our way down the anchor line through what appeared to be beautiful, blue-green 30 ft. near-tropical visibility.

Arriving on the sandy bottom, we noted Tyler and Paul’s line already tied off to the anchor and moved ours a few feet further down and tied it to the anchor and made our way to the edge of the canyon, where comically, our reel ran out of line just as we were about to go over the edge–we had failed to measure out our line before using it–gads! How embarrassing!

Well, we said to ourselves, there’s always Tyler and Paul’s line, which was just a few yards away–we could use that, huh?

So, we followed their line over the edge and down into the black abyss.

Since they had already been down over 90 minutes, we half expected to see them coming up the line and be able to wave ‘hello’ to them coming up.

But, oddly: by the time we hit 130 ft., there was no sign of them………Mmmmm………we found that a bit worrisome, but figured they were just below us, coming up and continued on with our dive.

On the top ledges, there were lush bunches of Golden Gorgonians, waving in the breeze, which I might add was a stiff underwater current, heading straight down and South, as we were to find out on our way back up. The kind you kick against and go nowhere.

Gliding Southward, we crossed the usual stepped ‘terraces’ dropping away down into the blue-green abyss below.

Soon, we came to the dramatically steep walls we have come to call ‘Cathedral Heights,’ with numerous large crevices or ‘chimneys,’ large enough to swim into, like a small cave, about 6 ft. high, but with no swim-through at the top, so you have to sort of back your way out once in.

First Barbara went in and had a peek, then, backed out to let me in.

I went in and back, where it was pretty dark, and shined my light up and around, noting the Painted Greenlings pinned on wall near the back, and then shined my light straight up, to see if I could see a skylight above, but it was a sealed roof that only trapped my bubbles into a shimmering pool of silver, so I slowly backed myself out and rejoined Barbara, hanging there in the deep, waiting for me.

We continued on South for a while, marveling at the gorgeous visibility, flipping over on our backs to marvel at the steep, vertical walls and watch our bubbles mushroom upward towards the silvery surface high above.

Along the walls, we noticed numerous Vermillion Rockfish and even a couple neon colored Hermessindas, clinging to the sides of rocks as we passed them. Schools of Senoritas and Blacksmith fish darted about, zipping here and there, all around us.

All too soon, we reached our turn-around point and had to begin heading back Northward and upwards.

At about 85 ft., just North of the Chimney we had entered a few minutes earlier, there was a familiar ledge that Barbara beat me to and, peering in, sure enough, was the same Moray Eel we had seen on our last visit here–how cool!

Just like last time, he was stretched out the length of the ledge, about 3 ft., with his head just visible at the far end of it.

We shined our lights in and said ‘hi’ to him, before moving onward and upward towards the edge of canyon.

Passing Tyler and Paul’s line where we had left it, we were a little disturbed to see that there was still no sign of them. Now 2 hrs. after they had splashed in, they should have been coming up by now, so we backed out over the edge of the canyon again to see if we could spot their bubbles anywhere. Nothing. Zilch.

Mmmm….not good. A worm of worry began turning over in my mind. Maybe they were already on the boat–we should surface and check on that.

So, Barbara and I reeled in our pitifully short line from the edge of the canyon, did our gas switch to 40% and completed our brief deco and safety stop and headed up to the boat.

As we came up next to the boat, a worried Charlie was bending over to assist us with our gear, saying the he had been hoping that our bubbles were Tyler and Paul’s…….they still hadn’t come up, now, well past 2 hrs. since they had gone down. Even allowing for extended deco, they should have been up by now.

Uh, oh: with the worm of worry now fully blossoming in our minds, Barbara swam back out to see if she could spot their bubbles, while I climbed aboard and climbed to the highest part of the boat, the cabin, to see if I could see anything. Nothing. No bubbles, nada–anywhere.

Not good.

It was, I’m afraid a classic and very unpleasant, WTF/ ‘Oh, S***’ moment. The kind you never want to have while diving. Trust me. ‘Sinking feeling’ doesn’t begin to describe the dread you feel.

I had one last inspiration: I went down into the cabin and grabbed the binoculars, and sweeping the horizon about 1/2 a mile South of the boat, practically near the Scripps Pier, I spotted, an orange sausage, waving to us from the surface, with Tyler and Paul both giving the large ‘OK’ sign with their arms–whew–what a relief!

So, we rushed over the pull up the anchor to motor over to pick them up, only to find that their line was still attached–thinking they were still using it far below, we hadn’t dettached it from the anchor, so it was all tangled up in it as I furiously pulled it up, yard by yard. We finally had to cut their line to get the anchor line up, but Barbara had the sense to tie the end of it up to a float, so we could retreive it later.

With the anchor up and their line safetly tied up, we cranked the engine up and zoomed over to their position as fast at the little boat would go….which is actually pretty fast–about 25 knots or so…..

Slowing down as we approached them, we had them confirm they were alright with a big ‘OK’ sign, which they returned immediately and we pulled along side of them to help them with their gear. We figured explanations could wait until they and their gear were safetly in the boat.

After hauling their 20 ton doubles into the boat and getting them safely onboard, we were all ears to hear their story.

Turned out that they had reeled out their line down to around 240 ft. before they actually hit a bottom of sorts [leave it to these guys to actually find a 'bottom' at Scripps!] and ran out of line. So, they elected to continue on South without their line to around 280 ft. where they planned to return to it, once they had explored the target area a bit. However, remember that ‘stiff current’ I mentioned ealier? Well, it was running South and down, into the abyss and after struggling against it for awhile, they decided it wasn’t worth it to exhaust themselves against it, so they came up about 1/2 a mile South of the boat, where the current had taken them, and inflated their orange sausage to let us know they were OK….and it just took us a while to spot it from such a distance.

So…….the Platitude of the Day is [ready?]: “All’s Well That Ends Well.”

These guys are superbly trained and very experienced and know what they are doing, so we needn’t have worried about them.

But, the problem is: before you actually know what is going on, you can’t stop all sorts of horrible thoughts from going through your mind……that’s just human nature, I guess. We had been ready to reach for the radio and it wasn’t for a radio check, either, I can assure you.

Anyway, after all that excitement and the length of their bottom time, it was decided that one dive was enough for one day, and we all happily packed up our gear and put boat in gear and headed for home………Paul and Tyler got to spend about 20 minutes untangling their line from a pile at their feet as penance!

Can’t wait to explore the further reaches of the deep at ‘Cathedral Heigh

Date: 1-18-06

Time: 6 pm

Location: Vallecitos Pt., La Jolla Shores

Dive Length: 45 mins

Surf: not high, 1-3 ft., but packing a bit of punch

Viz at Depth: 30 ft. + [yes!]

Max Depth: 128 ft.

Water Temp: 55 F. [Brrrr!]

Critters: Round Rays, Hemphill crabs, Kelp Crabs, baby octos [awwww....] baby Thornback Rays [reprise...] Sea Pens…..

Last night’s mission was to check out the damage/changes to the underwater topography directly below Vallecitos Pt., so with that in mind, Kathy, Merrianne, Barbara and I suited up and walked into the surf.

That was our first rude surprise.

In the dark, the surf looked fairly innocent: 4-5 lines of white breakers, no more than 1-3 ft. in height. But, that was deceptive, because once we started out into the surf, we discovered that although not high, the shoulder-high waves were packin’ some punch. Some packin’ ‘knock-you-back-three-feet’ type of punch.

Plus, there was the fact that it wasn’t one or two lines of breakers to make you way past, but 4,5 and sometimes 6, which I really hate, because no sooner do you recover from being slammed by one set of breakers, you get slammed by 4 more.

And slammed we got. As mentioned, I kept getting knocked back 3 ft for every 2 ft. of progress I made, and one head-high breaker completely spun my hood around until it was facing backwards, so that should give you an idea of the force of the waves. Luckily, my mask was around my neck and didn’t get lost.

Somehow, Kathy and Merrianne made it through, but Barbara was having some trouble, so I stuck by her. She was having some understandable ‘surf anxiety,’ which she finally overcame by saying ‘to hell with it,’ donned her mask and regulator, shouted, “I’m going under!” and just powered through along the bottom until she came up beyond the breakers.

Me, I just somehow powered my way past the many lines of breakers by ‘hook and by crook,’ struggling to get my fins on, after getting a solid hammering that left me out of breath and with both feet on the verge of cramping.

Welcome to winter diving in So. Cal, folks!

Once we got the initial ‘surf drama’ out of the way, the rest of the dive was a piece of cake [except for the re-entry, that is].

We kicked directly out from the bathrooms and dropped in 45 ft. of water, right on time of those unusual ‘Zion National Park’–type rock formations I’ve mentioned in previous dive reports.

We found ourselves perched on top of these large sandstone rocks which dropped away below us, in rocky crevices, down into the darkness beyond.

There wasn’t much marine life on these rocks, so we proceeded with our plan to simply ‘go West and down,’ which we did. We seemed to fall or glide downwards for a while.

The rocks seemed to peter out by around 90 ft or so and by 128 ft. or so, we found ourselves on just a wide, sandy plateau.

Although I’ve done quite a bit of exploration of La Jolla Shores North and South of here at this depth, I’ve never been below 120 ft. at Vallecitos before, so the terrain was new to most of us. It also made it difficult to determine if it what we were seeing were as a result of the recent storms or not.

As we glided along the wide, flat, sandy plain at 130 ft., it seemed to go on forever. We also noticed that the viz was at least 30 ft., and certainly well beyond the range of our lights.

There wasn’t much marine life here, just the odd Sea Pen and Round Ray.

Narcosis must have been a factor here because I became convinced that my dive computer was ‘stuck’ on 128. It seemed that no matter which direction we went on this plain, the depth never varied. Even by a foot. I even lightly ‘tapped’ my computer to make sure it wasn’t stuck. Typical narced thing to do, right?

In our defense, this wide, flat plateau was just that, without much variation in depth. Kathy claims that at one point she looked into the distance about 15 ft. West and could make out another terrace dropping further down, but Barbara and I never saw it. We later dubbed it the ‘Gobi Desert’ below Vallecitos.

The original plan was to ‘plateau’ at 130 ft. and then ‘zig zag’ North and South, examining the terrain at this depth until we ran out of No Deco time.

‘Zig zag’ patterns performed by a group of divers at night, in the darkness, while slightly narced tend to be quite comical.

Each diver is convinced that he or she is the ‘only one’ sticking to the plan and everyone else is ‘impaired,’ with the actual result being simply everyone going in different directions, sometimes bumping into one another, like some sort of Abott and Costello routine, everyone head down, seriously studying their compasses as if they knew where they were going. It’s just hilarious–I wish we had had a camera. Barbara claims I was emphatically gesturing at my compass and insisting that the way ‘back home’ was straight West, into the deep, which I would never do, of course.

In Kathy’s defense, she did have ‘a plan’ and was sticking to it–it was the rest of us that was like trying to ‘herd [narced] cats.’

Finally, Barbara gave up in disgust and with her compass pointing Northward [one of the 'zigs' we were supposed to perform], gestured to me that she was heading in that direction: I was free to follow or not.

I followed. Soon, we all came to a large sand berm rising up from the plateau…about 6-8 ft. high and we all glided up and over it.

Later, after talking, we think that we might have been slightly further North than we thought, because as we headed up and Eastward, we could find no wall at 60 ft. or even 50 ft., which was unusual. This makes us think the we were probably closer to an area that used to be called ‘Fringehead City’ and was known for its desolation and lack of marine life, save a few brave Fringeheads, poking out here and there.

We finally came to the edge of the wall at around 45 ft. and followed it Southward, until we came to the edge of Vallecitos Pt., where was saw the same, sad, 1-2 fronds of kelp, the remnants of what had been a small, but thriving group of kelp in this area. But, at least they had some Kelp crabs and Hemphills clinging to them, which provided some amusement for us, before moving on.

Merrianne and Kathy had split up from us at this point, and as I was running a bit low on air, Barbara and I decided it was time to begin heading into the shallows, where we were delighted to come across ‘Baby City,’ consisting of 3 Baby Thornback Rays, and one baby octo, all by himself, out for stroll–furiously squirting ink at us as we swam by.

The remarkable 30 ft. + visibility held through all of the dive, from the depths to the shallows, well beyond the range of our lights. We could see the other buddy team’s lights over 50 ft. away.

Soon, it was time to go through the surf again and we knew we were going to be ‘rock and rolled’ when the smooth, flat sand in 15 ft. of water, gave way to sizable ‘pot hole’s 2-3 ft. deep in 5 ft. of water–that could only mean one thing: ‘turbulence ahead.’

So, we gripped our regs in our mouths and braced for the worst as we surfaced in 3 ft. of water, only to get instantly creamed by a 3 footer, coming at us like a freight train at high speed.

But, we managed to hang onto all of our gear and struggled to get our fins off and hobble through the surf, out of breath, but with our dignity intact. I think for once, Barbara was glad she wasn’t juggling a 20 lb camera!

All, in all, it was a fascinating and instructive dive, our only handicap being that never having been that deep below Vallecitos before, we had nothing to compare the conditions to and, as a result, we are not sure if what we saw was a result of the recent storms or it had simply always been like that.

Certainly, the exposed rock formations at 70 ft. are a result of the recent storms, we know that much. How much else was, is anyone’s guess

Date: Saturday, 12-6-06

Time: 6:30 pm-ish

Location: Wreck Alley, Yukon

Max Depth: 94 ft.

Viz at Depth: a murky 8 ft.

Current at Depth: noticeable

Surge: noticeable

Mix: 32 %

Critters Seen: numerous Blacksmith, female Sheephead, Painted Greenlings and Giant Spiny Starfish

[Sorry, things have been a bit hectic the past couple of days, so this is the first chance I've had to write this report.]

It was the perfect opportunity: the calm between storms and we were overdue for a night dive on the Yukon, so, with our dive buddy friends Merrianne, Josh, and diver-to-be roommate serving as surface support, we loaded up the Scuba Do and motored out against a gorgeous setting sun to Wreck Alley.

There was a tiny bit of chop on the way out, but once we were moored at the lines, things settled down a bit.

Since we have been diving the Stern a lot lately, this night it was decided to tie up to the Bow line for a change.

After briefing our roommate on the proper use of the radio and helm, we all suited up and jumped in, Merrianne and Josh having been quite patient in waiting for me and Barbara to suit up. Josh could be heard muttering, ‘Gotta get wet….gotta get wet” periodically as he waited for us.

Finally, we on our way down the line and going into the deep…. where we belonged, as I had remarked to Josh earlier.

Arriving on the Bow, Josh and Merrianne took of towards mid-ships, bent on their goal of swimming the length of the ship at least once during their dive.

Barbara and I took a minute to get our bearings and then headed towards to the Forward Guns, planning to play here for a bit, before proceeding on.

In the dark and limited visibility of about 8 ft., it was a bit murky, but at least we knew which way Stern and Bow were, so that was a kind navigational aid for us as we made our way towards midships.

We paused on the Forward Guns and peered down into the machinery within, covered as it was with all sorts of algae and growth, along with an assortment of Blacksmith fish and a couple female Sheephead, all seemed to be hunkering down from something behind the various cogs and gears.

As we pulled our heads out of the Gun Placement openings, we figured out what it was they were hiding from: a noticeable current whipping across the superstructure of the ship.

Nonetheless, we pulled ourselves along towards the Captain’s Bridge, where we planned to pay our respects to Steve Donathan and his plaque, which we found in its usual place, covered a bit in algae, which we took some time to clean up a bit, with our hands, before moving on.

Wedged in a nook near the bridge, we found a Painted Greenling actually hiding underneath one arm of a starfish….to get out of the current or away from us, we weren’t quite sure, but it was quite a sight, which I pointed out to Barbara and she laughed behind her regulator at the comical sight.

Then, because, unlike our dive buddies, we had made the decision not to traverse the length of the ship, we began heading back towards the Bow again.

Coming across a nice, safe, sizable opening cut in the superstructure near the Guns, Barbara signaled to me that she was going in about a body length and then come right out again, which she did, none the worse for the wear, grinning from ear to ear.

So, naturally, if a girl can do it……you know…..right? I had to try it myself.

As I may have mentioned before: the ocean is a great leveler…….especially of fat egoes……..

Apparently, Barbara had gone into the opening when the current whipping through the ship was taking a break and all was calm……because naturally, when I began heading into it, it picked up. Considerably.

It was kind enough, in fact, to ‘assist’ me going in with a sort of ‘sucking’ action…..drawing me in about 5 ft. and then, apparently, deciding it didn’t really want me in there to begin with, promptly spit me out.

Actually, it felt like a giant hand had picked me up and unceremoniously hurled me out of the opening at considerable speed.

Barbara later said she saw me going in fairly normally, and then a few seconds later, ‘come flying out’ and she wasn’t lying.

And, unfortunately, just as I came ‘flying out,’ the strap of my fin happened to catch on the edge of the metal flange surrounding the opening, trapping me like a fly in amber, half in and half out of the opening, straining against the powerful out-rushing current to reach my caught fin strap.

And, of course, it was at this moment that my mouthpiece chose to begin flooding with water, perhaps forced in by the current due to the odd angle I was in, trying, unsuccessfully to reach my fin strap.

So, needless to say, this is one of those ‘priceless moments’ underwater that test your mettle as a diver.

Feeling trapped at night, in a dark ship, at 85 ft., with your fin caught on a sharp object, while a pretty hairy current is trying to ‘blow’ you out of the Yukon, all the while tasting salt water flooding into your reg is not something you’d wish on your worst enemy. At least I wouldn’t.

Luckily, something suddenly ‘gave’ after a few seconds, and the Yukon succeeded in finally, spitting me out, arms spinning, towards my dive buddy, the two us almost colliding a couple feet from the opening and Barbara chuckling into her mouthpiece.

This little experience, needless to say, sort of dampened my enthusiasm for a much longer dive, but I didn’t want to cut it short for my dive buddy just because of a little bad luck with nature and physics, so I gestured for us to continue heading towards the Bow, shaking my head at the terrifying suddenness with which Lady Yukon can turn on you in the dark.

We headed towards the Bow and the Dolphin Cut-Out and as soon as we rounded the corner, we could feel the source of the open ocean current that had just tried to fling me around like a rag doll a few minutes earlier and decided that ‘discretion was the better part of valor’ in our case, and began heading back towards the Bow line and safety.

Right at this point, we saw the approaching lights of our other buddy team, heading towards the Bow also, so we knew it was time to start heading up.

As if the night hadn’t been exciting enough, after our deep stop at 45 ft., we met up with Josh and Merrianne on the line and, first Josh killed his light, to avoid blinding us, then Barbara and I killed our lights, and we all just hung there, barely able to make each other out in the midnight blackness….with the unspoken rule that whoever turned their light before on first before coming up was a chicken.

I can’t remember who did: it was probably me, fed up with ‘excitement’ for the evening and just wanting to get home to some hot soup and a shower. Which was just as well, it turned out, because not 5 feet above us, we came across some nasty fish hooks embedded in the line, just waiting for some poor diver to get impaled on them in the dark.

However, bearing in mind the old maxim ‘Whatever doesn’t kill you first, makes you stronger,’ we all swam under the waiting boat and handed our weights and fins aboard with a feeling of satisfaction at having had ‘Lady Yukon’ test our mettle at night and survived.

Can’t wait to do it again!