Maurice Tracy June 4 2006

I got out diving, but it was très dur. I nearly lost my life on Saturday by forgetting I was on the eagerly-anticipated hook to be designated driver for Barb's bowling league banquet, ferrying 5 drunks to and fro. My slogan was No Yak In The Back, so to hedge their bets they put the drunkest one in the passenger seat. No yak in the front either thankfully, but she did give me very meandering directions back to her house, and regaled me with stories with no discernible beginning, end or point. I managed to finesse my forgetfulness, but not the fact that while the banquet ran well past midnight, I still had to get up at quarter to five to make it to the dock. Actually, on behalf of the Hanover Manor, let me correct that: the banquet didn't run past midnight, only my crew did, with a yawning dj, a toe-tapping bartender, and staff flipping chairs upside down all about them. I'd make a comment about deserving a medal, but those whose wives don't let them dive as much might burn me in effigy (or worse.) So yesterday I get up at an obscene hour, drive down to Pt Pleasant, and ride out on the bumpy seas aboard the Blue Fathoms. Our goal of the Gulf Trade got quickly scrubbed due to wave action (and methinks, diesel fuel prices) and in place we decided to go to one of my least favorite wrecks, the Maurice Tracy. Its basically a junkyard, with steel plating scattered about and buried in the sand. Great for hunting, boring to look at. Bottom temps were about 50, viz in the 15' range but with decent light penetration. I worked on natural navigation for a while, seeing how far out into the debris I could go and still find my way back, then worked on my reel work for a time as well. I did manage to find a fin amongst the extant bridge superstructure, and kept it in the hopes that it came from someone on the boat. After an hour on the bottom I was ready to go, still showing 119 minutes of ndl. You ever hear that phrase about watch out what you wish for? The fin wound up belonging to a diver who panicked on the surface, spit out the reg, and began to sink down to his death. He was very fortunate that Gary was up at the bow with his dry suit still zipped up. He jumped in and somehow managed to kick down 15' (no wt belt, fins or even mask) to grab him and drag him back up. Gary was pretty nonchalant about it, I'd be pumped on enough adrenaline to light up a small city. Freaky stuff, and the end of diving that day, since they quite sensibly feel that once they put a person on O2 they have to bring him back in. I felt bad for the guy, who clearly felt humiliated, but it sure beats being dead. The upside of being back on the dock at 11:30 was now I could go splash with Craig who desperately wanted to work on some stuff. So, two hours more in the syncro from the shore out to Dutch. I kept waiting for the herds of pink flying elephants to cross my vision, especially as I hadn't slept much in the days prior either, but they stayed at bay. While there I saw Chris, Jonny, Stephan and Sunny taking their ccr class. In fact, barring a horrible balls-up on the last dive, congratulations should be in order for at least Stephan. For my part, a little splash, a little fresh water rinse, much success underwater with Craig, and time to drive another hour and a quarter home for a dinner get-together. As Henry Rollins likes to talk about, it was truly an adventure in exhaustion, but still a good one.