The American Heritage dictionary defines habit as a
recurrent, often unconscious pattern of behavior that is acquired through
frequent repetition. As human beings, this pattern of behavior can
be found in many things we do. From the type of drink we choose at a bar
(Tequila, Señor!) to even the way we dress. Habitual patterns are
often present many times during our daily life.
So what does this have to do with diving, you ask? While I may call my
weekly outings a ‘new adventure’, deep down inside there is
a pattern to the places I go and the things I do. While I can not control
things like the weather conditions, going to many of the same reefs I
have visited before, there is a certain assurance as to what I will see
and experience. Breaking this habit is not an easy thing!
Sometimes, though, the benefits of breaking this pattern far exceed the
assurance of this weekly habit. So was the case for March 15th, 2003.
Having written this date down on my calendar a couple of months in advance,
I was awaiting this day with some anticipation. Whether it was to be good
or bad was the question yet to remain—for any trip that begins with
the words of Papa saying, “Lock up the girls and hide the booze.
I’m coming to town!” has got to strike some fear in me. Just
in case though, I assured him that I’d be waiting…
With the day upon me, I awoke up before the break of dawn as I do every
weekend and packed my things in my Jeep and headed south towards the Keys.
The peaceful drive along US1 during these early morning hours is always
a welcome treat. With some thoughts (and a particular girl) roaming my
mind and some Garth Brooks playing on the radio the drive down to the
Keys was the start of a wonderful day. Of course, the gray skies and thundershower
I was going through would have anyone thinking differently but I was in
my happy place with a positive outlook on the day to come.
Passing Quiescence (my weekly dive hangout) was the first sign of a breaking
habit. Continuing south along US1, approximately 20 minutes later (you
can’t speed in Key Largo unless you want a ticket) I arrived at
Conch Republic—a cozy little dive shop hidden alongside one of the
hundreds of bridges in the Florida Keys. Once inside, I was welcomed by
the friendly folks who operate this very nice dive shop. There were a
couple of people roaming around the dive shop observing the beautiful
reef tank, the numerous underwater photographs hanging on the wall or
doing a little scuba shopping (the worse of all addictions!). While I
was filling out some of the usual scuba paperwork, I overheard the gentleman
behind the counter call out a name I had heard before—Ms. Suzuki.
As I turned to see who she was, there stood a young lady with a smile
and charismatic personality that perfectly matched her apparent personality
on the Diver2Diver (www.scubadiving.com) message forum. As I turned to
her and said, “Spritely Mermaid?” she smiled and said, “Yes.”
I introduced myself and thus began “…the beginning of a beautiful
friendship—Casablanca.”
Back at the boat, as I was setting up my gear, I heard from a far the
words, “Who’s Laz?” Pondering for a moment whether I should respond in fear of losing my women and my booze, it quickly became
apparent to me that it was safe to respond—for I had neither women
nor booze to be taken. I raised my hand as I walked towards a very gleeful-looking
gentleman who responded with, “I’m Papa!” Who was to
think this is the same Papa that on the message boards was causing me
such dire straits (all in good fun)?
After our brief introduction and a long-awaited smile between each other,
he set about introducing me to some of the folks on the dive boat. As
it turns out, I was surrounded by fellow D2Ders and some fellow digital
photoGs (Karl Dietz and his lovely wife)—what a treat!
As the boat left the dock and was on its way to places unknown (to me),
we finally agreed on our first destination—The Eagle. Ironically
enough, with my many years of diving in the Keys, I have never dived this
wreck before. Excitement stirred in the air as we prepared to enter the
water to see what was awaiting us below. With thoughts of fish and coral-life
aplenty, we descended down the buoy line attached to the bow of the wreck.
With her hull resting in ~110 ft of water, on our way down, the far from
perfect visibility (~40ft) soon gave way to the sight of an awe inspiring
vision. There she laid on the sand on her side, adorned in corals in all
the colors of the rainbow with the fish life to match.
Looking around I noticed fellow D2Ders diving to different areas of the
wreck, some dropped down to the sand, other headed towards the center
of the wreck in hopes of seeing the elusive Goliath Groupers that made
this wreck their home. Karl, his wife, and I settled on cruising a small
piece of the port side of the boat with our cameras on hand. As we drifted
towards the center of the boat, we swam out to one of the coral encrusted
towers to view and photograph this area. Awed by its healthy coral diversity,
I took a couple of photographs. The first thing that came to my mind was
the thought of making this wreck one of the chosen areas for a reef clean-up
after seeing quite a bit of fishing line tangled around it—what
a shame!
As I continued to explore this area, all of a sudden a school of sardines
raced by as they were chased by some large jacks that were hoping to make
of a free lunch.
Scenes from The Blue Planet played in my head as I hoped to see a mob
of swordfish or sharks encircling this baitball. A few seconds and a thousand-plus
fish later, I spotted someone in the background that looked very familiar.
Capturing some of the scene and a super model (that would be me) with
his “I don’t need no stinkin’ film” video camera,
Papa came in for a closer look.
I turned to take a quick snapshot or two…
..and Papa was gone. At the most inopportune moment too as I had just
found a tiny octopus roaming along the top of the wreck. I quickly waved
over Karl and his wife so that they can see and photograph the little
guy and, as I watched them do their magic, I noticed from a far two divers
laughing their butts off after a friendly game of rock, scissors, paper
and bomb(?).
Who else would be doing such a thing at about 90ft. of water? No one other
than the famous Ms. Spritely Mermaid and her partner-in-crime brother!
I wave them down and when I show them the octopus, all of a sudden I begin
to hear a loud, cute, squeaky laugh in surround-sound. I begin looking
for the excess bubbles and notice that it’s no other than Spritely
giggling herself out of a full tank of air at the sight of what she thought
was an armless little octopus. Little did she know that, like the rest
of us divers, we were using all the arms we had available to cover our
ears from this underwater, high-pitched giggling. After seeing that smile
on her face, the idea was inevitable—I must get of photo of the
octopus and Spritely together—and she kindly accepted the proposal.
I have pointed out the octopus for those who can’t see it.
Yes, it’s a real octopus—unlike the turtle in my last trip report. LOL!
On our way up, we stopped at fifteen feet for our safety stop and celebrated
the Dietz’s 100th dive. WOOOHOOO!! Congrats, you guys!
Of course, I was the last to get back on the boat after spending more
than 3 minutes at the safety stop observing all the plankton life drifting
by. I just love this stuff!
