Interesting Day on the North Coast

Conditions looked pretty nice during the drive up the coast. Swell less than 8', little wind, no chop. Visibility didn't look all that great but then it usually doesn't this time of year. With abalone season coming up soon, Murphy's assures that things will get a lot worse before they're any better. The Russian River was pumping lots of chocolate milk colored water into the Pacific. I noticed that the plume was heading north but didn't think much more about it. Again, pretty normal for this time of year.

I was meeting a bunch from the local dive club. Some of these guys have been diving this coast for more than 20 years. They're a friendly group and always enjoyable to go diving with. Ten divers showed up with 4 inflatables and 4 kayaks between them. After talking, we decided to leave the kayaks and pile everyone into the inflatables. The good dive spots were nearby so 3 divers per boat would be no problem. Off we went.

The first dive at Cemetery Reef was pretty nice. The surge was a bit much but the vis was better than expected. Maybe 15'. Really good for March. Plus there were lots and lots of ling cod in the area.

After a 90 minute surface interval, nine of us headed back out to the same spot we first dove. We anchored off within 100' of each other and started hitting the water. I was the last one topside due to some equipment problems. It took quite awhile to straighten them out. During that time, I noticed that the surface current had picked up a bit since the first dive. Everytime I was distracted, I found myself drifting north. Still, it wasn't very difficult to kick back to the boat each time. Finally, things sorted out, I headed down.

Once again, it was a good dive. Visibility had held and the ling cod were downright pesky. When my tank hit 700#, it was time to head up. During the dive, I'd headed west into deeper water and, then, south east on my return leg. My expectation was to surface on the south side of the boats. Ascending from 40' and having done only 2 short dives, I did a short 1 minute safety stop before heading up. When I surfaced, the boats were north and west of me about 50 yards away. I was surprised and a little annoyed with my navigation. What the heck, I rolled over and started kicking.

After about 3 minutes, I checked my progress. The boats were 150 yards away. Uh oh! I kicked it up a notch. About this time, I began wondering how long it'd be before someone else got back to a boat and noticed I wasn't getting any closer. I was hoping it wouldn't be too long. Another 3 minutes and another check. The boats are farther away still. And nobody is in any of the boats yet. I notice some (too many) of the divers from our group nearby. One is passing me to the west and another is coming up behind him. They look like they're making for the boats. The others have apparently given up. (Later, I learn the two going for the boats had ditched their tanks and weight belts in order to go against the surface current that had picked up substantially since the dive began.)

After fighting the current longer than necessary to know I'm not getting anywhere, there's nothing to do but stop and think things through. Three of us join up and drift with the current. We take stock and, by our accounting, a couple of divers are missing. I'm hoping they're up current from the boats and are already sorting things out. We keep looking back toward the boats hoping to see somebody standing up in one of the boats (we're too far away, by now, to actually see the boats more than occasionally). No such luck. Nobody appeared in any of the boats, we're 1/4 mile offshore, and heading to Alaska. This doesn't look very good.

The only good news, at this point, is that the current is not taking us farther offshore. In fact, we're heading directly for the washrocks that guard the far outskirts of Stillwater Cove. Maybe a mile and we'll be lined up for the long swim into the cove itself. Nothing to do but position ourselves closer to shore while hoping one of the inflatables will show up. Neither ever did leaving us to wonder what happened to the two who'd gone for the boats? They couldn't have made it or they would have come for us. They must have given up and were adrift and exhausted.

As we came abreast of Stillwater, it was time to kick back into gear. Just inside the cove, we were out of the longshore current that had taken us for such a ride but we hit a new current heading out to sea. It wasn't strong enough to keep us from the beach but it did cost us at least 20 minutes of hard kicking.

Waiting on the beach are two from our group plus a north coast lifeguard. Checking the water and counting heads, we figure the only divers not within view are the two heading for the boats. The lifeguard, who's in contact with other officials, tells us they're just now getting close. They'd been swimming hard (without tanks or weight belts) since I last saw them maybe 40 minutes earlier when they appeared to be no more than 100 yards from the boats. The lifeguard further advises that they're being watched from a bluff and, if they don't make it, the helicopter that's on it's way will swing into action. As things turned out, neither of them got closer than 10 yards. They were simply unable to close the final gap. A private fishing boat spotted their predicament, picked them up, and deposited them on their boats. A frustrating conclusion to an amazing effort. In the end, nobody was hurt (other than their pride) and only a few weight belts were lost.

Typically, I try to identify something I learned following every dive. Usually, it's just a small detail about some animal behaviour, an equipment configuration thing I want to tweak, or something similiar. This dive, however, promises to be productive for weeks to come. I've recognized a couple of lessons already and I expect a few more light bulbs in the days to come. Plus there are a few questions that I'll process until I'm tired of them. Still, you're only living if you're learning.

#1 lesson can be summarized very simply: LOOK AT THE COMPASS. I can be very good navigating underwater. I can also be pretty lousy. The usual difference between those results was strongly reenforced today. When I glance at my compass every few minutes, my navigation is reliable. If I get lazy, I pay for it with longer than necessary surface swims. Today's swim was long enough to get my attention.

Lesson #2: trust my instincts. I had a bad feeling about the dive when it started. The equipment problems at the beginning of my dive stressed me out physically and I really wanted to abort. I decided against aborting because I didn't want to give up the dive. I also didn't want to bob around on the boat for the duration (later, I would have preferred boat bobbing over bc bobbing). Intellectually, there's no connection between the problems at the beginning of the dive and the problems at the end. But there have been too many times when my gut reaction to a place and time would have saved me from lots of later rationalizing.

#3: go with the flow. After a first, normal try to swim to the boats, it was obvious the current was bookin'. A second, more earnest attempt was made. When I discovered that I'd lost more ground after that second attempt, it was time to change my course of action. No need wasting more energy on a hopeless cause.

#4: I LOVE my dry suit. I ended up tired and thirsty but I didn't get cold. That made a big difference when it came to anxiety levels during the ordeal. Had I gotten cold, I'd probably have not been so calm about things. I really love that dry suit.

I could go on but it's late and I'm tired. Anybody seeing something I missed, don't be shy. No point in that type of experience unless you learn everything out of it you possibly can.

As a side note, with abalone season starting soon, this experience might serve as fair warning for those of you planning to visit the north coast. By all means, do come and enjoy the area but please please please be careful. The north coast can be a very exposed place to dive. Some very experienced north coast divers were reminded of that a little too late today.

{norcadiver@sonic.net}