Farallons I

During the weekend of June 21 through the 23, a dive trip on the Pacific Star took a few ba_d divers out to the Farallon Islands. At least, that was the plan. Of the 22 divers onboard, 8 signed up because of the curiosity piqued here on ba_diving.

In the interests of putting the negative stuff behind us, let me start by saying it was a rough Saturday. Rough enough that we were forced to come back into port at Half Moon Bay after dinner Saturday evening. Rough enough that 4 or 5 spent all day Saturday hugging the rails while occasionally being joined by another dozen or so. Rough enough that, during the return trip, a few begged for mercy and pleaded to get off the boat when we docked. Rough enough that, eventually, the decision was made to scrub any attempt to get back out on Sunday. How rough is that? 10' swells at 10 or 12 second intervals, wind waves to 5', 25+ knot winds, and no place to hide. Predictions for Sunday called for worsening conditions still: 12' swell with winds to 45 knots.

But, on the upside, ...

As lousy as the sea conditions sound, the real question was whether it was worth it. For my money, there was no contest. I'd ante up the deposit today and eat beans for a month if someone could tell me when the next trip is scheduled. And I'd do it knowing full well the conditions are most likely to be the same or worse. That's the nature of the destination and, without reservation, it's worth it. That's a pretty big statement considering that Saturday morning, as we approached the north Farallons, I didn't think we'd be able to get off the boat and, as green as I was feeling, I didn't care.

In spite of what looked like impossible conditions, the boat found a spot nestled among a bunch of rocks labeled on charts as the Isle of St. James. It's a grouping of 3 big rocks, seperated by 100 yards or so, at the north end of the Farallons. It didn't look like they'd offer much protection but, once we tucked in behind them, the sea conditions improved more than enough to let us get in the water. It was quite surprising, in fact, how gentle the conditions became. With wind and waves howling just a few hundred yards away, we comfortably used the swim step to get into and out of the water.

In terms of the dive protocol, we hit the water in groups of 2, 3, and, more commonly, 4. All divers in the team would assemble on the rear swim step, sit down, finish gearing up, and, when every one was ready, slip into the water together. Ideally, you went in negative and spent exactly 0 time on the surface. Using a down line, you headed straight for the bottom at 80'. This was a little deeper than we'd wanted or anticipated but, given the conditions, was as close to good as we could get. At the end of the dive, the idea was to have reacquired the down line and ascend directly to the swim step. For me, that worked on 2 or 3 dives. On the first dive, however, we missed the boat by 50 yards and set a new personal record in the surface swim.

At 80', the only thing that marked the dive as different from what you'd find on a regular central/northern California coastal dive were the rockfish. Blues and blacks, to be specific. If you've been diving California long enough, I'm told, there was a time when blue and black rockfish would regularily weigh in at 4 or 5 pounds. Compared with the dinky fish you see in schools close to shore, that claim would sound a bit outlandish. But what do you know, they really do get that big. And bigger. I ran into one black tucked into a rock that had to be at least 18". Maybe more impressive, though, was the fact that we're not talking just about single animals. Whole schools of big blues and big blacks. An inspiring sight.

Shirley Vaughn, a PADI instructor with prior experience at the Farallons, provided dive site information. She'd dove the site we were on in the past and directed us to the western-most rock/island of the group. So, from 80', we quickly headed for shallower waters and the reef she told us we'd find. During the first dive, we also found the cut in the reef that led to the wall of our rock/island. That "wall" turned out to be a large cavern at the base of the island that Shirley had also told us about. What a magical place it turned out to be.

As you worked up from 45' to 35' heading toward the cavern, there was a sheer wall along our left side carpeted with living organisms. Any single square foot could have held our attention for the entire dive were it not for all the other square foots screaming all around us. At the base of the wall, the bottom was layered 3, 4, and 5 deep in multi-colored ochre sea stars. I've never seen so many sea stars so tightly bunched together. With a bright, over-head sun, the scene was easily as colorful as anything I've seen on the reefs of Cozumel. Maybe it would be eclipsed by a large number of tropical dive sites (I wouldn't know first-hand) but nothing in California or anywhere else on the Pacific coast I've dove would come even close to comparing.

As we got closer to the cavern on our first dive, it was a bit eerie. First, we were being buzzed by a gaggle of young, curious sea lions. They were coming up very close, staring for a moment (to get our attention?), blowing bubbles and zooming off. Lots and lots of frantic energy zipping by. At the same time, my dive light had flooded and the boundaries of the huge cavern we were approaching couldn't be defined in ambient light. Being still tentative, we didn't push the entry much at all and soon headed back to the boat. As we left, the sea lions continued to hound us until we turned the corner on the reef.

On the second dive, we went deeper into the cavern. By slowly inching in, our eyes were given time to adjust to the lowered light level. What was revealed was a hugh space with walls thickly encrusted with life. As we got deeper in, we could feel surge pulling us gently and then pushing us back. It signaled that this cavern, in fact, narrowed down to a tunnel that, according to Shirley, goes completely through the island. I was unable to locate the entrance and, without a dive light, had absolutely zero interest in investigating any further anyway. Still, you could feel the concussion from the surge working through the tunnel. The first few times I felt it, I thought somebody was poking me from behind to get my attention. It took some practice to ignore.

When we turned the second dive, we found a couple of surprises. First, we'd worked our way probably 20' into the cavern and, due to backlighting, could make out some of the structure. To the left was an exit almost as hugh as the one we'd entered. Dividing the two exits was a large pillar. Looking up and left, our second surprise. The sea lions were back and coming down at us from the "roof" of the cavern. Near as I could figure, the cavern's ceiling and part of the pillar were above water with a sea lion haul out "up there" somewhere. It was kind of hard to make out details because of the wave and surface action going on at the surface.

As much as we wanted to play with the sea lions, air considerations sent us packing. As we were working our way out along the cut, I felt someone tugging at my fins. When I looked around, Jaake Jacobson pointed over my head. Looking back around and above, I found myself eyeball to foreflipper with a majestic (read "big as a house") bull sea lion "sitting" atop the reef. He didn't seem threatening, only curious. It was such a sight, though, to see this huge animal only few feet away calmly watching our antics. In spite of no overt threat displays, I thought it reasonable to slowly head out of his territory and did. He followed us as we went, swooping off one vantage point past us to settle on another. We had a fourth buddy team member for part of dive 2.

On the way back to the boat, I spotted an old anchor lying in the rubble at the base of the reef. It was only about 3' long and heavily encrusted with sea life. Still, I could make out the outline of old-fashioned flukes and a quarter sized section at the end of the shank revealed layered iron fabrication techniques of the type done in the mid to late 1800s (antiques are another cheap hobby of mine). In spite of temptations, the anchor remains where it was found.

Dive #3 had us returning to the cavern with Dick Hunter, owner of the Pacific Star, and one of the divers who'd been too sick to get into the water during earlier dives. And it was over too quickly. The best part of dive #3, though, was the reaction of Dick and, especially, his buddy who enthusiastically declared the effort and a day of sea sickness worth it for that one single dive. I'm glad he felt that way because, as it turned out, it was his one and only chance to dive on this trip.

By 5:30 in the afternoon, we'd pulled anchor and headed back to a calmer spot off SE Farallon for dinner and to spend the night. As we were eating our BBQ dinner (pork tenderloin and chicken with bunches of fixin's), the boat took a few too many swells broadside for the captain's comfort. He checked the weather forecast, learned that conditions would be getting much worse, and decided to head back to Half Moon Bay for the evening. So, at 8:30, we started the 3 hour run back to port.

I was fully expecting that we'd head back out early Sunday morning following 4 hours sleep. I wasn't looking forward to the prospect but, what the heck, I also didn't care what I needed to do to go back out. Fortunately or unfortunately, a few others on the boat were much less enthusiastic about a return trip and were satisfied to call the trip done and the deal square. After bending the owner's ear awhile and further checks on the weather forecast, the divers still awake were given the choice to be done once we were back to port and to receive a raincheck for the Sunday missed or we could hang out and try to return in the morning. When it was revealed that conditions were expected to include 12' swells with winds to 45 knots, virtually everybody said "uncle." That turned out to be quite a shocker for the few who'd hit the sack at the beginning of the return trip and didn't blink until early the next morning. What they woke up to was a nearly empty boat and the news that the trip was over.

In spite of the difficult and tenuous conditions, and not including the 2 or 3 people who were unable to get out of their bunks, the universal reaction to the diving was "incredible" or "awesome" said with grins reaching ear to ear. Including the boat crew as they rotated in some dives. I have never experienced so much wide-eyed enthusiasm anywhere. Considering that more than a few had to grin between heaves, it's hard to overstate the positive reactions during this trip.

I'd like to acknowledge the Pacific Star on two fronts. First, quite simply, a thanks for taking on this trip. It was a lot of work both during the trip and for many months it was in the planning stages. Very few central or northern California operations, if any, COULD have touched this project. Fewer still WOULD have.

Second, I've dove from the Pacific Star 4 or 5 times over the past few years and, as a result, have a pretty good feel for the ups and downs they've experienced. I still don't know, beyond being hopeful, about the financial status of the boat but I can say, without reservation, that the crew has really become top-flight. They're an enthusiastic and friendly bunch, they don't project any attitudes, and they really go all out to do whatever they can to make things work. By way of illustrating that last point, at the end of the first dive I found I had to wait for the swim step. THAT was specifically something I did not want to do. But the crew cleared that step within 30 seconds and, as I climbed out, I was surprised to see everyone else was already back aboard. It turned out that the entire first group of divers (16?) showed up at the swim step during a single 5 minute period. Nobody had to wait longer than I did because of the crew's hustle. I was impressed and it brought home how much I've enjoyed diving with this group during the past 6 months. If only there were a little less ocean to explore and a whole lot more money in my bank account. Any suggestions (Ed, how 'bout we use some of your lotto winnings here? ;^)

So that's pretty much it when it comes to the limited diving we did. I could go on and describe the 10,000s of sea birds or the occasional whale sighting or the incredible seascapes or the huge bull launching into a 20' dive off a cliff. We had such a short stay, saw so much and way too little. It's Monday. Yesterday, I was ready to go back. And, sometime soon, I will.

{norcadiver@sonic.net}