Ambar Fun In the Sun

During the first two weeks of February 1998, while storms were pounding the entire coast of California, I was trying my best to get in some diving off Mexico's Revillagigedos Islands (pronounced "re-vee-ya-he-hay-doze"). Located 250 miles SSW of Cabo San Lucas, these volcanic islands are world famous for big animal encounters. I'd heard of and read about this destination for a long time and signed up for this particular trip a year and a half earlier, having procrastinated a few weeks too long each of the preceding two years (a demonstration of the "snooze-you lose" facts of diving). Needless to say, I'd been looking forward to the Revillagigedos for quite some time.

Unfortunately, reverberations caused by the storms off California were felt more than 1000 miles south. The ocean was big (up to 20' swells) with winds reported to 35 knots. In fact, our first attempt to make the 24 hour run out to the islands ended in the first hour; with conditions already marginal, deteriorating weather forecasts forced us back to Cabo for another night in the harbor (admittedly not the worst place in the world to be "snowed in").

By the morning of day 2, conditions had improved to "doable" though still quite lumpy and windy. We headed out. Late that afternoon, about 80 miles offshore, a 42' boat following 5 miles behind us reported they'd taken a wave over the stern and were dead in the water. While we turned back to assist, they worked to pump out and get their engines back on-line. For the landlubbers among us, "dead in the water in big sloppy conditions" is considered a tense situation; we could easily hear the stress in the voice coming over the radio. Forty minutes into the crisis, the other boat was making headway at one knot on a single engine. A bit later, the second engine was on-line and the excitement was past.

Early on day 3, we finally got our first, close-up look at San Benedicto Island with Socorro Island rising above the horizon 40 miles farther south. San Benedicto is ash, cinder cones, and lava flows. One of the more spectacular above-water sights is a lava flow from low on the seaward side of one cone. It formed in 1952 and, today, looks like it froze mid-flow including the "fountain" of lava suspended out the side of the mountain. It's really quite an unusual sight.

The other thing we noticed on arrival at San Benedicto was the ocean. Between the rollers passing under the boat and the explosive clapotis (that's whitewater-speak for "Geeeez, did you see THAT?") off the NW side of the island, "uh-oh" was a reasonable assessment. Still, the worst day diving is better than the best day doing pretty much anything else... right? Absolutely!

Our first dive off the south side of the island immediately dissipated two days of growing anxiety over the success of the trip. When the bubbles from my entry cleared and my first underwater sight was a dozen curious sharks circling just a few feet away, I knew I was where I wanted to be. When a pair of mantas passed by half way through that first dive, the trip was already a success. We ended up spending the next week on the verge of being blown out (or stormed in) but we came back dived out with memories that will last a lifetime.

There was the first dive at Socorro Island's Cabo Pearce where a school of Hammerheads, 40' feet below, ignored us as we hung at 90' in deep blue water off a beautiful, sheer wall.

There was the morning at "The Coral Gardens" off San Benedicto and an extended period freediving with a pair of "pesky" Mantas that flaunted the "no-approach" diving regulations for the islands.

And there was the dive that was "perked up" by the 14'+ Tiger Shark spotted as it disappeared at the edge of visibility; my dive buddy shared in the excitement with a sighting of her own in the same area the next day. {Just a few weeks earlier, Terry Maas had been spearfishing a few hundred yards away and had a very close encounter with a Tiger that, fortunately for Terry, is no longer among us.)

Almost all of our dives at the Revillagigedos included big animal encounters. Five to seven foot Galapagos and Silky Sharks were nearby on virtually every dive. Baby (2' to 3') Silvertips, the remnants of commercial long lining (Galapagos and Silkies have no commercial value; Silvertips apparently do), came by to check us over during a couple of dives. Because we weren't spearfishing, none of these sharks caused undue concern though, after a few close brushes, I did learn to keep a wary eye on them and to crowd back when they got too close.

We were visited by Mantas on something like 50% of the dives. Usually they would just pass by on their way to somewhere else. Occasionally, they'd circle back and "hang out" with the divers for a time. On one occasion, there was a small (14') Manta that would approach within inches; sometimes passing, other times hanging motionless, face-to-face, a foot away. Move off and it usually followed. When it didn't follow, it was circling back for a mid-water encounter.

Missing from this trip were the Humpback Whales that would normally be in abundance by the beginning of February. Apparently delayed by weeks of rough oceans, we had to settle for the occasional fluke sightings, breaches, and singing males heard during a few dives. For Humpbacks, this trip was definitely a case of "you should have been here last year..."

Also not to be found at the Revillagigedos (regardless of when) is lots of color. Though coral is forming, it is sparse and drab compared to virtually any other tropical diving destination. Reef fish populations are quite colorful and plentiful but lack the diversity found at most other tropical locations.

Our home for this trip was the Ambar III, a 73' power launch owned and operated by Mike McGettigan and his partner Sherrie. During the fall and winter season, they're based in Cabo San Lucas running trips to the Revillagigedos; spring and summer will find them in La Paz working the Sea of Cortez. Accommodating no more than 8 clients, most of the Ambar's charters are to groups of friends and close acquaintances (fair warning: finding a spot on an Ambar trip will likely prove to be a challenge). There's one large stateroom with private head and bathtub, two smaller cabins with a shared head and shower, and separate crew quarters. Common areas include a very spacious lounge/dining room just forward of a small stern deck and a large open deck on the bow. For our seven divers plus crew, the boat provided more than ample elbow room and better than nice amenities; time on the Ambar III feels like being a guest aboard a private yacht.

Because of the ocean conditions and relatively deep, repetitive diving, we ended up spending a lot of time out of the water. This is where the Ambar and McGettigans provided an unanticipated but quite enjoyable benefit. It turns out that Mike is, to wildly understate the case, passionate about fishing. Virtually anytime the engines were running, he'd have 2 to 4 lines out. Having given up line fishing when I was 11 or 12, my first hookup, a 100# Striped Marlin, came complete with a crash course on rod and reel handling "enthusiastically" (read "loudly") delivered by Captain Mike. That first day, I reeled in the Marlin (catch and release) and two sharks (catch and release) plus a small Yellowfin Tuna and two Wahoo (catch and release, my ass!). Unreasonable though it seemed to me at the time, the other guests also wanted a chance for some of Mike's expert tutelage; otherwise, I would have landed another shark or two, a lot more Wahoo, and a few Yellowtail Tuna that day. But I need not have worried: on the Ambar III, breakfast, surface interval and Miller time invariably include some fishing.

With fresh Tuna and Wahoo being landed every day, we always had some insight into the lunch and dinner menu; if you don't like fish on the menu, the Ambar isn't for you. Lucky me, fish works great. Sherrie runs the galley relying on a very effective combination of culinary talent, artistic presentation, charm and delightful good humor. Some of the results: Ahi and Ono sashimi, Ahi sushi rolls, Wahoo Parmesan, bacon rapped Tuna steaks, Tuna burgers, fish chowder, ... even tuna sandwiches made from home-canned tuna - yum). But, in spite of our most valiant efforts, we were unable to keep up with landings and I was forced to drag home a 50# box of frozen Wahoo and Tuna.

Finally, in terms of trip success, I have to acknowledge my diving companions. This was a solo trip for me that began with no foreknowledge about the other trip members. As it turned out, the folks that shared this trip have to be included among the interesting highlights. Four of my six shipmates are members of a larger group of friends and travelers who have shared experiences, dating back a few decades, from all over the world. Three were from Germany, the fourth from Los Angeles, all of them capable of spinning intriguing stories about their adventures in third- and, in some cases, fourth-world countries. The fifth shipmate was a delightful young woman from L.A. who, in the course of buddying with me on most every dive, proved capable of out diving 95% of the divers (100% of the macho types) I've met. Lastly, there was our dive trip organizer, Norbert Wu. For one of your more famous underwater photographer types, Norb turned out to be a pretty laid-back, easy-going sort; not what I had expected from someone who'd just recently returned from three months diving and photographing the Antarctic. All in all, this was a very enjoyable group for sharing both space and more than a week of incredible diving.

It's hard to fully share the magic in the mind's eye replaying the memory of a breathhold dive to hang at 35' while a 14' and an 18' Manta glide by within inches. Suffice it to say that, in spite of relatively lousy ocean conditions (15' to 20' swells with 20+ knots of wind in the lee), crappier than usual visibility (60' average in locations where 125' to 150' is quite typical), poor fishing conditions (we only landed 8 to 12 Tuna and Wahoo each day), no Humpbacks, and no schools of really large Tuna, my February 1998 trip to the Revillagigedos was an unqualified success.

{norcadiver@sonic.net}