Rapture of the Deep

Dive #799

Date: 10/31/08

Location: South Canyon, La Jolla Shores

Time: 7-ish

Dive Length: 55 mins

Surface Conditions: stellar: Lake La Jolla

Surf: terrifying 6 inch waves….

Max Depth: 105 ft.

Mix: 32%

Viz: 30 ft. + in shallows/+/- 20 ft. at depth [not bad!]

Pics Here: http://tinyurl.com/56dzvk

Video of Horn Shark Here: http://tinyurl.com/6hdsq3

Marine Life: ‘Kamikaze fish [as yet, unidentified], small silver, perch-like fish [as yet unidentified] Swimming Crabs, Sheep Crabs, Two Horn Sharks, one adult and one, very juvenile, several octopi…..and the Bat Ray I’m told zoomed over my right shoulder that I never saw…..

Well, after all those reports of stellar visibility, we just had to get out there and check it out, so Kathy, Jimbo, Mike and his dive buddy and I all met at V-St., geared up and bravely waddled out into the raging 6 inch surf.

Kicking out, we could shine our lights down and see the bottom from 25 ft., so we had an idea that it was going to be good……..and, good it was.

The plan was to kick out straight West from the Bathrooms and drop down to explore the South Canyon walls, which is what we did.

Dropping in about 50 ft. of water, our little group made it’s way West down the gentle slope of the canyon into deeper water.

We came across several octopi out for their evening constitutionals, so Jimbo’s camera flash could be seen snapping away almost immediately as we headed down.

As we got to around 100 ft. or so, ‘Mother Kathy’ in her PADI Instructor Mode began signaling her wayward children [me and Jimbo] to arrest our slide into the Black Depths and start heading Southward, so Jimbo and I dutifully obeyed.

I had not been in the South Canyon for a while and was pleasantly surprised to see the well-defined canyon walls looming up ahead.

Rather than the soft-crumbling terraces of Vallecitos Point, the South Canyon walls here are well defined and drop sharply in 4 ft. increments.

You can see the geographic striations, which look like grey and white horizontal stripes in the soft sandstone, as you approach from the West.

As we headed South, I saw Kathy’s light signaling the group that she had found something.

As we approached, we could see that she had cornered an adult Horn Shark, who by now was looking around at us all apprehensively, wondering what had suddenly attracted the attention of this group of divers, with all their bright lights.

He tried to hide behind a small band of Boa Kelp, but it served only to wrap it around his right eye, which looked a bit uncomfortable, so I gently reached down and tried to free him of his stricture, but he only retreated further.

The thought has occurred to me before that having a large group of divers envelope a small animal with bright lights might be perceived as a stressful experience for that animal, so I have tried to not shine my light directly into its eyes.

Finally, he grew tired of this gaggle of divers shining lights and taking flash pictures and he zoomed off, up the canyon walls, where Jimbo signaled, correctly, I believe, that we should not chase him and add to the already stressful experience, so we let him go his way.

Shortly after, as we continued our way along the canyon wall at around 80 ft., I observed a Round Ray, swimming vertically up along the canyon wall, something I have never seen a ray do.

Around this time, I came across a large piece of Macrocystis, about as big around as a baseball bat or your arm, about 5 ft. long and with one of those huge ‘gas bladders’ or ‘bulbs’ at the end. You know the kind I mean? Often seen floating on the surface.

The gas bladder alone was almost the size of two softballs. I knew exactly what I was going to do. Evil Grin.

I was hovering about 5 ft. above Jimbo and I mentally plotted his trajectory below me and calculate exactly where he would be in about 10 seconds and dropped the huge piece of kelp with the bulb at the end, right in front of him, so that he would be sure and collide with it.

And, collide with it, he did—and, boy, did it startle him into next week!

All he saw was this huge green bulb drop in front of his mask and he jerked back like he had been jolted with a 220 v. current!

Oh, the laughs I got out of that—my regulator nearly fell out of my mouth from chuckling!

Finally, he recovered enough and we were able to resume our trek upward and Eastward towards the shallows.

Now, he knows not to turn his back on me when I get bored!

As we ascended further up the canyon walls, we had to endure another Attack of the Kamikaze Fish, those fish that are about 6 inches long and bluish-pink, who hurled themselves at us from all sides: colliding and bonking into our masks, tanks, BCs and fins, which seemingly no regard for the pain it caused them.

They simply hurl themselves at you willy-nilly, with no rhyme or reason, ricocheting off you like bullets.

Go figure. They followed us all the way back, hurling themselves at us the entire way, with the ‘attack’ petering out at around 30 ft.

Coming back into the shallows, Jimbo and Kathy came across a tiny, little baby Horn Shark, no bigger than your hand and hovered about for a while taking his picture, before moving on.

I recalled some video footage we saw last Wednesday. night at Scripps Institute, taken by underwater photographer and Shark Diver Par Excellence: Marty Snyderman, who gave a talk that night.

In it, you seen a huge, mean-looking Angel Shark creep up on a tiny, little baby Horn Shark, just like the one we saw.

The Big Mean, Angel Shark suddenly leaps forward and swallows the widdo-baby Horn Shark and there’s a pause, or beat for about 2 secs., where you think the baby Horn Shark is history.

Next think you know, the Angel Shark is opening his mouth again, as if gagging and forcibly ejects the baby Horn Shark out onto the sand again.

You can almost see the Horn Shark sticking his tongue out at the Angel Shark in defiance.

With those little horns on their dorsal fin, they are not quite as vulnerable to predators as they look!

We surfaced in 5 ft. of water, right in front of the bathrooms, thanks to the unerring navigation of our Navigatrix: Kathy.

I actually just floated on my back for a few minutes, letting a gentle current carry me towards the bathrooms, enjoying the peaceful calm of Lake La Jolla and reminiscing about our great dive.

We’ll have to do that again sometime!

Dive safe, everyone….

Barb and I went to our first DEMA [Dive Equipment and Marketing Association] show in Las Vegas, not as retailers or manufacturers, but simply as ‘independent’ attendees….to meet and greet interesting people, hand Barb’s business card around and generally, just have fun.

In the Winter of 2004, Barbara and I had been taking Advanced diving classes from her son’s father, Gyan, a PADI Instructor. 

We had just completed our PADI Deep Class, which certified us to 130 ft., when we met up with him before the weekly night dive he was leading with the UCSD Dive Club Seadeucers in the parking lot next to Scripps Institute of Oceanography, off La Jolla Shores Drive.

Each week, usually on a Wednesday or Thursday evening,  Gyan would act as Dive Master to the already Advanced, and some might  say, ‘cowboy’ dive club from UCSD in La Jolla’s deep water canyon, Scripps Canyon, directly off of Black’s Beach.

Members of the club were all experienced recreational divers, who were familiar with the topography and surface conditions off Blacks Beach and would frequently ‘push the limits’ imposed on recreational divers.

Upon pulling into the parking lot near Scripps, Gyan ambled over to the window of my car and said, in a nonchalant  way, “Mike, I thought I’d give you a ‘three-fer’ tonight and certify you on Night and Underwater Navigation, at the same time we’re  finishing up your final Deep Class.”

At first, I was glad to hear that I  could walk away with not one , but three certifications in one night, but then , cautiously, I  asked him what this might entail.

“Oh,” he said, casually, “ I’m going to have you ‘Jump the Gap’ on Scripps tonight and navigate from one side of the canyon to the other and back and then take us back in to shore underwater.”

Immediately, my mouth went dry: this was no mean feat: he was telling me that I would have to, in effect, leap across the Black Void, between the two walls of Scripps Canyon,  at 130 ft., navigate across, using only my compass, to the other side and back, a distance of 80-100 ft., between two canyon walls that were  in water hundreds of feet deep—at night.

Gulp!

This was not was I was expecting……

But, what could I do? I couldn’t really refuse the offer of 3 certifications in one night, now could I?

Barbara and I suited up and put on our gear, all the while, my heart was pounding. This would be a true test of my abilities as a so-called ‘hardcore diver’ with a so-called ‘hardcore’ dive club.

Shaking my head at the thought, we  made the long trudge down the 600 ft cliff which led from the parking  lot above Black’s Beach, weighted  down with both with my thoughts and the 90 lbs of SCUBA gear on my back,  to the beach below, just as the sun was setting over the ocean, a fiery orange globe

disappearing over the edge of the world.

I wondered what this night would have in store for me.   I noticed my pulse quickened  as we approached the mighty waves of Black’s Beach, which served as a Mecca for surfers from all over San Diego, as they crashed heavily onto the sand, sending up plumes of white frothy foam.

After fighting our way through the 6 ft. surf, we began the 20 minute swim Westward towards the Green Buoy which marked the edge of Scripps Canyon, about 100 yards offshore.

B y the time we all arrived at the Green Buoy, it was pitch dark out, and the only thing visible were the dive lights being carried by each diver, flicking on, one by one, as we prepared to drop into the abyss below.

Gyan gave a quick  briefing: “OK, everyone, get ready to drop.

“Mike: I’ll lead us North along the Canyon wall at about 130 ft., and then, when I give the signal, I want you to take the lead and navigate us over to the other side and North along the opposite wall of Canyon for about 10 minutes, and then lead us back across to the other side and from there, we’ll head in to the beach.”

Scripps Canyon winds like a giant V-shape North Eastward, with the Northernmost  part of the V facing North and slightly East.

‘Jumping the Gap,’ at night requires  a diver to take a compass heading while at the East side of the canyon and, head in a Westerly direction until he or she arrives at the other side, a journey of anywhere between 50 and 100 ft., depending on where in the V-shaped crevice she begins the trip.

Starting too soon [or, too far South] puts a diver heading West at the widest part of the V, and a journey of more than 200 ft.  across. 

Also: we would be diving at the lower reaches  of recreational diving:  130 ft., where Nitrogen Narcosis is most noticeable, and like too much alcohol, distorts the senses and affects judgment underwater.

My heart was definitely pounding now; as we prepared to drop, Barb patted me comfortingly on the shoulder and whispered that I’d do fine……and, besides, she’d be with me.

I took a big breath to calm myself, put the regulator in my mouth and let the air out of  my buoyancy compensator, feeling myself drop slowly down into the black water below.

Another tricky part about diving this part of Scripps Canyon: the Green Buoy we were dropping down was attached at the bottom to a metal bar stretching across the narrowest part of the canyon wall: a distance across of no more than 5 feet in places, which led Westward to the ‘open ocean’ section of Scripps Canyon, where we would proceed North.

It was like dropping down a well in the black of night, with the narrow canyon  walls within arms-reach on either side for about 90 ft., until the bottom was reached.

Not for the claustrophobic…..

Finally, after a long drop between the narrow walls, we reached a temporary  ‘bottom’ of sorts at around 90 ft., where, as you head West, it drops away down into the abyss,  many hundreds of feet below. Here, in effect, there was no bottom.

Dropping over the edge, into the black of night, everyone knew to begin adding air into their BCs, in order to slow our descent and ‘plateau out’ at 130 ft. Dropping any deeper would magnify the effects of narcosis.

From here, we began following the canyon wall on our right, Northward, until we reached the ‘jumping off’ point.

During the day, Scripps Canyon  is normally a beautiful ‘wall dive,’ covered in brightly colored Yellow, Orange and Red Sponges as well as scarlet-colored Gorgonians and various vertical and horizontal crevices, forming miniature caves for Moray Eels and other denizens of the deep.

Schools of Blacksmith fish,  Rockfish and long, silver ‘trains’ of Silversides, like Barracuda or Smelt, flash by, adding to the mystery and  beauty of the canyon here.

But, this night, I was too apprehensive  to appreciate the beauty of local marine life. I was too preoccupied with how I was going to get us across the Black Abyss and back in water 600 ft. deep.

We were heading to a bulge in the canyon wall called ‘Fishhead,’ which was supposedly the closest point to the other side.  The rest of the group had split off from us early on in the dive, leaving just me, Gyan and Barb,  gliding Northward, along the canyon wall.

We passed a couple sharp ‘overhangs,’ where the edges of canyon form sandstone  ‘terraces’’ and provide shelter to more Gorgonians, sea fans and sea stars and you have to be careful not to bump your head on them.

Suddenly, I recognized the bend up ahead: we had arrived at Fishhead.

 It was now, or never.

Gyan  casually gestured across the abyss and motioned for me to take the lead, as if this were something you do every day of your life.

I looked in the direction he was pointing and could see only utter blackness.  The Abyss.

Getting lost here  and  heading South by mistake would mean going deeper and deeper into the canyon without ever finding the other side. More depth meant more narcosis and more confusion—as well as mandatory decompression stops on the way back up—which we had not come equipped for.

I had to remember: trust your instruments, regardless of what your brain is telling you.  This deep, at night, you could not trust your senses—or, your brain.

Stealing a glance over at Barbara, who moved out of the way to let me lead [she had already done this once before ] and inhaling a huge gulp of air, I  launched myself over into the black abyss.

There were two factors I had to control at all times: direction and depth.

Oh, yeah: and my pounding heart!

I aimed my compass, which was attached to my Submersible Pressure Gauge, which told me how much air I had remaining, straight out in front of me, as I had been trained.

We wanted a slightly NW heading, due to the topography of the canyon: I was aiming for the narrowest part of the ‘gap’ here, which if you do it right, is only about 50 ft.

If you do it right.

Here at 130 ft., you feel as if your head is wrapped in cotton wool and everything seems to happen in slow motion, due to the effect of Nitrogen Narcosis.

I aimed my compass and began swimming NW, breathing slow and easy, hoping that Barb and Gyan were directly behind me.

Breathe, kick………breathe, kick……..I tried to establish a rhythm to calm myself as we glided over gap.

Breathe, kick………breathe, kick…….

I strained mightily to keep my compass directly in front of me, as I had been trained, but my hand kept drifting downwards, no matter how much I tried to keep it level.

Allowing a compass to  go either up or down, below a level plane, causes it give an inaccurate directional reading.

No matter how much I struggled to keep it level, it kept dropping down…….and, unbeknownst to me, leading us Southward……..away from the opposite wall……into the open ocean.

I noticed we were also dropping in depth here: 130…..135……140……below the depth that recreational divers are supposed to go. The cotton wool around my head was growing thicker and my breathing more labored.

But, I kept up the struggle to keep my compass level and added some air into my BC to slow our descent, but it seemed that each time I focused my attention on one thing, the other would get away from me.

As soon as got our depth under control, my compass heading would drift Southward.

As soon as I got the compass heading under control, we would begin dropping again……and, all the effort was causing hyperventilation, something you never want at this depth, because it causes you to burn through your air at much faster rate.

Fear was beginning to get the upper hand…….I looked behind me apprehensively to see if Barb and Gyan were still behind me—they were.

Finally, I managed to get the compass heading under control and aim us in the right direction—I looked over and saw Gyan gesturing to the North West and I aimed my compass there and, blessedly……..there, up ahead, I saw the outline of the opposite wall of Scripps Canyon—whew!

Boy,  was I relieved!

I had gotten  caught in the deadly grip of narcosis/spacial disorientation , fear and hyperventilation—combination that can be lethal at this depth.

I slowly turned our little group towards the wall and reached out and touched in relief as we glided up to it. I felt like kissing it relief!

But: we were still only 50% of the way through the dive: I still had to get us back to land….Arrggh!

I looked down at my air gauge and discovered that I had burned through more than 60% of my air: I had less than 1200 psi left—it was going to be close.

After we glided a few hundred feet North along the opposite wall, I knew we would be at the narrowest part of the gap and aimed my compass  North/NE, in the direction of the beach and home.

Our trip back was pretty much a straight shot across of only a couple minutes and I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw the welcoming sight of the East side of the canyon wall loom up ahead.

From here, it was simply a matter of leading us up, over the top of canyon rim, to the sandy stretch above and into the beach.

Glancing down at my dive computer I noticed that we had come within 3 minutes of having to do a decompression stop—something I never would have had enough air for.

Coming back into the beach, we had to fight our way through 6 ft. breakers, crashing onto the sand in the dark, but we finally found ourselves stumbling along the sand, almost directly below the parking lot were we had entered.

I had made it!

True, the instructor had had to nudge me in the right direction and I had almost gotten caught up in the grip of fear and disorientation, but I had come through to the other side of it and survived.

Actually, as we stumbled through the surf onto the sand, I thought I had flunked the test and would have to do it again, but I guess Gyan was in a generous mood that night—or, maybe he just didn’t want to repeat the experience!—and, back at the parking lot, he handed me 3 Temporary Certification Cards: Night, Deep and Underwater Navigation.

 I noticed they had  already been signed: he must have thought I would come through OK.

Sometimes, in life,  the only way around fear is through it. J