Block Island July 15-17 2006

I had been looking forward to our Block Island weekend for a long time, and all the more so since I was blown out for the Doria last week. When I went last year I was in ccr limbo, trained on the prism but without one to dive, and still a month before getting a kiss unit. The OC diving was great, but I kept glancing covetously at the crew's inspiration and meg. What a difference a year makes. This time you couldn't walk the deck without tripping over a rebreather. All told, between 2 crew and 6 passengers, we had 9 rebreathers onboard the Sea Turtle, three sport kiss, three classic kiss, two megs and my prism. A number of local divers in NJ did their training this spring, and have been diligently applying themselves to logging hours at Dutch, and putting a tentative toe into the waters off NJ. For them this trip was an opportunity to stretch their wings and challenge themselves with some deeper and longer dives. Besides me it was Carl and John Bayer, Chris Gruno, Stephan Francke, and Sunny Longordo, with Ted McCoy crewing and Chuck Wade at the helm.

Our intial plan had been to hit the USS Bass first, but after talking amongst ourselves it seemed wiser let folks build up to it. Thus, we started out with some shallower sites around Block Island. The first dive was to the Grecian, a passenger-freighter lost to a collision in 1928. It lies in 95', and with the exception of some bow superstructure it's a generally ship-shaped debris field. Still, it's a pretty debris field, with large boilers amidships, and the prop still poking out of the sand. After an intense period diving the prism I decided it was time for the kiss to take a swim. I have been eagerly looking forward to the uncluttered profile of the kiss, especially as the weather gets hotter. However, as that hoary old chestnut goes, there is no perfect rebreather, and I immediately began missing certain aspects of my prism: the work of breathing, the tight profile, the heads-up display. Let's just say I love them both in their own ways.

My normal dive profile is to swim the length of the boat and check out the props, so that is what I did here. The boilers were particularly interesting, with lots of hidey-holes. I really like New England lobsters, they are such a belligerent, dim-witted bunch. Shallow holes, access to behind them, you name it, they are just begging to be picked up. There wasn't really anywhere to put them, since we were staying in a bed and breakfast, but it was still fun. I took and released five, including one that didn't want to go back into its original hole, and instead chased another out of his. There was one decent one that I would have figured out a way to get home, but it didn't get that big by being dumb. I'm going to blame Stephan for that one. He was swimming by when I almost had it in my hands, but it took one look at him and shot back into its hole. I hope he flooded his mask laughing at me. Carl later caught me plucking a shamefully undersize one, so I put it on my shoulder and comforted it before tucking it back in.

Our second dive site was one of my favorites, the Pinnacles. It reminds me of the boulder field at the base of a cliff, with all sorts of little cavey swim-throughs amongst the house-size glacial erratics. The current was kicking, and I was glad I swapped my al80 bailout for a 40. The deficit was made up by my camera though, which was no joy to manhandle through current and tight squeezes. Ah the suffering artist. Most every dive now I make it a point to go off into the sand, and as expected a dozen or so dogfish skimmed past me. This time though I think they were teasing me: I'd see one, put down the reel, get the camera ready and they'd disappear. Pick up the reel, start taking up line, and they'd come right back. Shark humor. Eventually it paid off in a shot that I am perhaps inordinately proud of, but then if you knew how paltry my photographic skills are you'd understand. There was a double payoff when I emailed it to my wife. To quote: "were you really THAT close to the shark? wtf?! why good god?_ oh Puh-LEASE?!" I think I threw her back into the seventh grade with that one. Really though, what was going through my mind was "If you think that's bad..."

The last dive of the day was to the Lightburne, a tanker that in 1939 hit the point on Block Island right beneath the lighthouse, testament to the foggy conditions there. Fortunately they were able to pump out all the oil first, while the radioman bravely stayed at his post to warn off other ships. It lies in only 30' of water, but with upwards of 20' of relief, and is home to a vast assortment of lobsters, crabs, nudibranchs, little kelp gardens, sea bass, blackfish, and schools of other fish large and small. I even spotted my first smooth dogfish, up to now all I've ever seen are the spiny variety. Much of the hull is gone but not the bulkheads, so with a little imagination you can stitch what remains together in your mind. Its just keeps going and going, over 400' long, and with cozy temps in the 70's it's like floating through a modern sculpture garden. Warm is a relative term though, at least according to Chuck and Ted when they set and pulled the hook in their bathing suits. As much as I like the cold, and even enjoy an ice dip after a sauna, that didn't tempt me.

For Sunday we added another 30' to our max depth, and went to the u-boat. The U-853 lies intact and upright, with lots of access holes courtesy of the US Navy. They pounded that thing for hours, and when they were done they pounded it some more. Its surprising much of anything remains but it does. In truth more harm has probably been done by yahoo souvenir hunters than either time or war, at least in terms of dive quality. Really, did they need to hacksaw off the periscope? I have lots of stainless steel tubing in my shop they could have, which would look just as exciting when removed from context. And don't get me started on the bone stealers, I'm pretty sure those guys had skulls when they died.

The first thing I did was the last thing I had done last year: enter the blast hole forward of the conning tower, swim up to the forward torpedo tubes, and then swim the length of the boat to exit the stern. Along the way Ted and I passed like two ships in the night, or rather two divers in the diesel motor room. Its nice how well you can communicate on ccr - "Hello Ted" "Hey Dude". I spent a little time digging in the collapsed stern but no joy, all under the watchful eye of a nervous 4' striped bass. He was tucked up deep into the hull, and kept looking at me like "You're not going to tell anyone I'm in here, right?"

What I was most interested in on this dive was seeing some of the Hedgehogs off in the sand. These are a kind of depth charge, so named because they bristled from the launchers. Fired off in a pattern, hedgehogs freed the Destroyer from having to be directly overhead. Ted had described where to find them, 25' or so off the port side of the conning tower, and circling wide from the stern I bumped into quite a few. They look like nothing so much as a spackle bucket on a pole, but are ever so much more explosive. It's a wonder the afore-mentioned yahoos haven't set one off. After all, folks have taken 6" shells off the San Diego, as I recall that prompted a concerned-but-anonymous call to the local bomb squad.

We stuck around for dive 2 on the u-boat as well. I didn't have any urgent priorities, so I took Stephan on a tour of the inside and the Hedgehogs, while Ted took Carl and Sunny. It was very nice later to have some kielbasa from the grill. I don't care what your food rules are (mine is: don't eat human - unless really hungry), but even the wispiest california vegan would appreciate a nice piece of kielbasa after a dive.

For dive 3 we went to the Heroine, which is a 136' long fishing vessel that sprang a leak in 1920. It now lies on its starboard side in 80'. There are some very nice swim-throughs on the bow structure, and then a lot of debris. The boilers are absolutely enormous, with expansion tanks on top which are themselves the size of 55 gallon drums. As with the Grecian I spent my time catching and releasing bugs. Likewise I had my heart broken by another nice one, 5# at least and way to clever for my song and dance routine. Why does Stephan always swim by snickering when I'm arm deep into a hole and flailing? It's like having my own floating Greek chorus.

Monday started in a much more civilized manner than the 6:00am roust of the day before, followed by a 20 minute march to the boat. We got to enjoy the second B of our B&B, then trundled across the street to Old Harbor patting contented pancake bellies (at least in my case that was the contents, not the flatness of it.) This was the day I was really looking forward to, when we would get out to some of the deeper stuff. First was the Dixon, a 220' barge that sank in 1961. Intact and upright in 155', Ted calls it the HydroAtlantic of the Northeast with equal measures of justification and hyperbole. I went back to diving the prism for this one, and was very pleased with how it felt and handled. Dropping down, the outline the ship began to appear right around the 100' thermoclime, its deck strewn with piping and its masts draped in nets. I finned down the starboard side, and entered a large hole smashed into the engine room, promptly grabbing two foolhardy bugs (in lobster life as in ccr diving, complacency kills!) The engine room wasn't too deep but was very intact, including shelving on the walls. I later repeated the exact same mistake Ted had once made: found a hatch, scrunched myself up tight get through, and then found it was the same wide open engine room I had just been in. A bit of a let down, but more than made up for in the spooky silty bow hold. Encased in steel, wires hanging like spanish moss, and my light barely piercing the murky gloom, it was a reminder that the boogeyman is alive and well, and he likes shipwrecks. NB to my buddies who might be getting ideas, thinking it would be funny to sneak up and grab my leg when I think I'm alone in a wreck: I will stab you. And when I see it's just you, I will stab you again.

The last dive of the trip was to the USS Bass. This enormous, flawed, and even tragic submarine was deliberately sunk for weapons testing only a month or so before the nearby U-853. At 341' feet it dwarfed most submarines of the day (the U-853 is only 250'), but was a design that ultimately was not successful. It never saw action beyond war patrols, but did lose 25 men to a fire. The bottom is at 160', the top of the conning tower comes to 110', and it lies upright and mostly intact. 80' of the bow smashed off when it hit the bottom, and lies on its port side about 25 feet away from the stern at an angle. I first visited the bronze propellers, with their attendant ling cod jamboree. These have long silver bodies, with whiskers like a catfish, and tend to congregate cheek to jowl underneath the hull. I then made my way to the cut and crossed to the bow, picking up a couple of hapless bugs along the way. There is still a decent little penetration in what remains of the bow, not too deep, with fishing nets draped over the mouth of it like cobwebs on a cave. I had also planned on penetrating the stern section, but had to forgo it due to time. At 38 minutes I pulled my strobe and ascended for 50 minutes of deco, gently buffetted in the warm clear water.

Of the 8 dives we did, only one had to be scrubbed due to a rebreather issue (Sunny had a leak in her loop which cancelled the dive but was easily corrected.) Getting fills in New England can occasionally be challenging, as last years trip showed: multiple carts filled with doubles, non-certified gas, and even the joy of hauling doubles gunnel-to-gunnel in a crowded marina. This year, by contrast, we were able to satisfy all of our gas needs without leaving the boat, using a booster, whips, and spare 119s of O2 and diluent. As people develop spare sets of tanks we will be able to skip even this task, and simply bring all the gas required for the trip. I had brought four sets of 19's filled with O2 and 10/50, and still had a fresh set after 11 hours underwater. The Sea Turtle is an excellent platform for this type of diving, with plenty of room for spare gear, stowage for tanks, and benches to gear up on. Ted and Chuck can describe the wrecks in minute detail, and offer suggested dive plans based on experience and comfort level. They can deploy an O2 reg at 20', which will simplify your bailout planning if you are certain you'll come back up the anchor. My personal solution for bailout is typically to bring an al80 of air. It offers me plenty of gas even if I can't get to the 20' O2 station, leaves me with 100%-200% above my gas needs, and can be used as backup for my drysuit. Below 180' I like to add an al40 of 18/45 or so, but for these dives it spent the trip bungeed on the deck.

The ride back to Montauk was mellow and relaxing, and Sunny proved her one-of-the-guys status by enjoying a fine cigar with me. We got a chuckle out of the old lighthouse on the point in Montauk, a stone's throw from a very modern radar installation. It reminded me of the lady I met spinning thread at a county fair, and how she keeps her spinning wheel in the tv room so she can watch Star Trek. Later we made the social scene in the Hamptons, stopping for a quick bite to eat. The paparazzi were too clever to let us see them, but we did elicit gasps with our celebrity status (that or the three day funk.)

So what is on the itinerary for next year? Where are we going with all these new-found rebreather skills? Let's just say the divers onboard were put on notice: Next year the Bass is the warm-up dive.