Speckmisser
01-28-2004, 09:27 AM
Things are dead in here, so let's breathe in a little life and tell some more tall tales.
What was your most exciting shark encounter while diving? You know, the kind that make you suck in your breath so hard the tank rings and your eyes get blurry.
I've only had a couple of real spooky ones.
The first came on a night dive, about 36 miles offshore. Our plan was to hit some lobsters off a ledge, about 125' down. It's usually a great dive, with good visibility and warm, Gulf Stream water.
We ran out through a couple of summer squalls, but the ocean was otherwise slick as glass. Spirits were pretty high, as we all anticipted a great dive. Due to the range and depth, other lobster divers seldom hit this ledge. Visions of the bottom just crawling with bugs danced through all our heads.
We finally reached the area and started circling, watching the depth finder for the tell-tale hump. My buddy had just put this new Sitek Color-scope on his boat, and this trip would be the big test. As we watched the screen, something seemed wrong. The first 40 feet was clear, but the rest of the image to the bottom was fuzzy as could be. We adjust gain, and tried everything, but the scatter wouldn't clear up.
With another adjustment, the scope displayed estimated water temperature. The scatter was explained when we realized that there was a sharp thermocline at about 40 feet, with a 10 degree temperature drop from there down. Highly unusual for this area, but recent storms had obviously stirred the water. The scatter was dense cold water and the suspended material.
Still, we found the ledge and dropped anchor. There was no question about the sentivity of the new scope, because as soon as we drifted over the anchor line, we could see it extending to the bottom! I'd never seen the anchor rope show up on a depth finder before.
As we set up, I caught several large blips moving near the bottom. The area is well known for sharks, but after dozens of dives, none of us was too worried about it. On occasional trips, you could easily spot 20 or more sharks on a single dive. With the typical visibility in excess of 50 feet, you could see the sharks and they could see you well enough to stay clear. As most divers know, the majority of dangerous encounters happen in murky water, when the sharks mistake divers for other sea life. When the water is clear, they generally recognize that you're not on the menu and leave you alone.
Geared up now, and ready for bugs, my dive buddy and I made the first descent. The initial visibility was mind-blowing! Since it was dark out, I couldn't be sure, but I'd lay odds that the vis was well over 100 feet. I couldn't wait to hit the bottom!
Then we hit the thermocline. It was just like the picture on the scope. Vis went from 100' plus to barely the end of my arm! The cold hit me like a hammer, and I was glad I'd put on my wetsuit. I grabbed the anchor line, and slowly finned downward.
My depth gauge told me I was near the bottom, but I wasn't seeing anything. I couldn't even really see the rocks. My buddy must have spotted something, because he dropped off the anchor line and had headed up-current. That's our buddy system, though.. if you're diving in the same ocean, on the same day, you're buddies.
I was suddenly about as alone as I'd ever been, and I couldn't see a bloody thing!
Now I've done a lot of night dives, and there's always an eerie quality to being alone at the bottom of the ocean in the dark. It never spooked me before, but it was sure getting to me now!
I followed the anchor rope until, at last, I could see a large, dark hump rising out of the gloom a few feet away. I reached out to grab the rock and pull myself over the ledge.
Just as my gloved fingers brushed it, the dark hump SWAM AWAY! My breath rang in my ears as I realized I'd been reaching for a 10-12 foot shark! Suddenly the water seemed to be filled with dark shadows. I'm sure it was just the shock of the one encounter, combined with a little pressurized nitrogen, but I was suddenly seeing "sharks" everywhere!
I checked my air and my computer, and figured I had about 10 minutes left on the bottom. Usually, that's plenty of time to make a sweep for lobsters. However, for some reason, I stayed really close to the anchor until it was time to head for the surface.
I'll post the other story later. So what about you guys?
What was your most exciting shark encounter while diving? You know, the kind that make you suck in your breath so hard the tank rings and your eyes get blurry.
I've only had a couple of real spooky ones.
The first came on a night dive, about 36 miles offshore. Our plan was to hit some lobsters off a ledge, about 125' down. It's usually a great dive, with good visibility and warm, Gulf Stream water.
We ran out through a couple of summer squalls, but the ocean was otherwise slick as glass. Spirits were pretty high, as we all anticipted a great dive. Due to the range and depth, other lobster divers seldom hit this ledge. Visions of the bottom just crawling with bugs danced through all our heads.
We finally reached the area and started circling, watching the depth finder for the tell-tale hump. My buddy had just put this new Sitek Color-scope on his boat, and this trip would be the big test. As we watched the screen, something seemed wrong. The first 40 feet was clear, but the rest of the image to the bottom was fuzzy as could be. We adjust gain, and tried everything, but the scatter wouldn't clear up.
With another adjustment, the scope displayed estimated water temperature. The scatter was explained when we realized that there was a sharp thermocline at about 40 feet, with a 10 degree temperature drop from there down. Highly unusual for this area, but recent storms had obviously stirred the water. The scatter was dense cold water and the suspended material.
Still, we found the ledge and dropped anchor. There was no question about the sentivity of the new scope, because as soon as we drifted over the anchor line, we could see it extending to the bottom! I'd never seen the anchor rope show up on a depth finder before.
As we set up, I caught several large blips moving near the bottom. The area is well known for sharks, but after dozens of dives, none of us was too worried about it. On occasional trips, you could easily spot 20 or more sharks on a single dive. With the typical visibility in excess of 50 feet, you could see the sharks and they could see you well enough to stay clear. As most divers know, the majority of dangerous encounters happen in murky water, when the sharks mistake divers for other sea life. When the water is clear, they generally recognize that you're not on the menu and leave you alone.
Geared up now, and ready for bugs, my dive buddy and I made the first descent. The initial visibility was mind-blowing! Since it was dark out, I couldn't be sure, but I'd lay odds that the vis was well over 100 feet. I couldn't wait to hit the bottom!
Then we hit the thermocline. It was just like the picture on the scope. Vis went from 100' plus to barely the end of my arm! The cold hit me like a hammer, and I was glad I'd put on my wetsuit. I grabbed the anchor line, and slowly finned downward.
My depth gauge told me I was near the bottom, but I wasn't seeing anything. I couldn't even really see the rocks. My buddy must have spotted something, because he dropped off the anchor line and had headed up-current. That's our buddy system, though.. if you're diving in the same ocean, on the same day, you're buddies.
I was suddenly about as alone as I'd ever been, and I couldn't see a bloody thing!
Now I've done a lot of night dives, and there's always an eerie quality to being alone at the bottom of the ocean in the dark. It never spooked me before, but it was sure getting to me now!
I followed the anchor rope until, at last, I could see a large, dark hump rising out of the gloom a few feet away. I reached out to grab the rock and pull myself over the ledge.
Just as my gloved fingers brushed it, the dark hump SWAM AWAY! My breath rang in my ears as I realized I'd been reaching for a 10-12 foot shark! Suddenly the water seemed to be filled with dark shadows. I'm sure it was just the shock of the one encounter, combined with a little pressurized nitrogen, but I was suddenly seeing "sharks" everywhere!
I checked my air and my computer, and figured I had about 10 minutes left on the bottom. Usually, that's plenty of time to make a sweep for lobsters. However, for some reason, I stayed really close to the anchor until it was time to head for the surface.
I'll post the other story later. So what about you guys?