Mini-season

Returning from vacation in Bonaire -- (that's ANOTHER story!), I arrived back in South Florida just in time for lobster mini-season.  Local experts said they weren't expecting much, including some of my dive buddies who had been scouting their hotspots prior to the July 30 opening. But an informal check of dive boats around Biscayne Bay on opening day showed a lot of people were getting limits or close to them. 

I like to dive with Pompano Beach freediver extraordinaire Jim Higgins.  He can catch lobsters more quickly in 15-20 feet of water than two scuba divers working together.  (Ask Patti Hanley if you don't believe me!)  Anyway, I don't want to brag (MUCH) but Higgins and I went out about 5:30 am  today (the second day of mini-season) and while I can't discuss where we went, I can tell you we had  our limit of 24 by 7:30 a.m.

Higgins is very serious about lobster diving.  He makes a living from commercial fishing, including freediving for lobster. Also, as a veteran surfer, he knows the nearshore waters of Broward County better than most.  It is because of careful scouting and plotting locations on a GPS that he gets lobsters almost anytime.

In 2005, right after the passage of Hurricane Katrina through South Florida, Higgins correctly predicted when the lobsters would "march" off Broward County.  We went diving and intercepted gangs of them in extremely shallow water -- bumping slowly along the sandy bottom in single-file lines of 20 or more.  It's a rarely-seen phenomenon that usually occurs around cold fronts and low-pressure systems, of which Katrina definitely qualified.  I have a wonderful color photo of the event hanging up in my living room.

Every year during mini-season, it seems like South Florida suffers an above-average number of casualties.  Sometimes, people get run over by boats, but a lot of times the fatalities are divers who treat mini-season like teetotalers do New Year's Eve -- a  once-a-year derby -- and then they don't dive again till next year.  It seems like some of these tragedies could be avoided if divers -- especially those over 50 -- got regular medical check-ups and also went for regular check-out dives.  When you haven't dived in a long time, sometimes you forget important things -- like turning on the air; dealing with strong ocean currents; and maintaining proper buoyancy.   Keeping in shape is also a really good idea.

Let's hope for a good, safe regular harvest season, which opens Aug. 6 and runs through March 31.  Remember-- it's not a derby; you've got plenty of time.

Diving opportunities

Summer is the time of year when wimpy South Florida divers finally decide to get into the water following a nearly half-year hiatus.  There are literally hundreds of wrecks to explore throughout Miami-Dade and Broward waters.  Palm Beach County is the place to go if you're anxious to observe a sea turtle up close.  The Keys never fail to delight -- whether you take a plunge on big wrecks like the Spiegel Grove, Bibb, Duane or Augustus Busch  or one of the countless coral reefs from 20 to 90 feet deep.  Mini-season comes up July 30-31 when residents and visitors alike engage in hand-to-hand combat with recalcitrant crustaceans.  If lobster tackling is not your thing, you can always head north to the Big Bend area to pick up bay scallops.  That's like plucking berries off a tree rather than dragging meerkats out of holes.  In August, the coral spawns around the full moon and Key Largo is ground zero for the underwater voyeur.  Hint:  star corals are much more interesting to watch getting it on than the branching corals -- probably because there are more of them.  And if you really, really want a change of scenery, you could always head north to the inland caves near Gainesville and Tallahassee.  The water temperature is always right around a chilly 70 degrees, but it feels really refreshing when you emerge into 100-degree heat.  And you don't even need to take a shower!  Happy diving.  For us wimps, the season usually ends right around Halloween.   

No cave country for old men

As I was driving up to North Florida last Friday to cover a potential world record cave dive, I discussed it with a friend on cell phone.  He seemed to think that Jarrod Jablonski and Casey McKinlay were out of their minds to dive 300 feet deep in a cave for 20 hours in order to prove there was a direct physical connection between a remote sink hole and a pristine, first-magnitude spring seven miles downstream.

"That's crazy," my friend said.  "I would NEVER do anything like that.  If I were going to do something just for the thrill, I'd go sky-diving."

I just shook my head as I pressed down on the gas pedal.  He didn't get it, nor apparently, do many other people.

What Jarrod and Casey accomplished Sunday was way beyond thrilling.  It actually was akin to walking on the moon. 

By way of explanation, the two veteran Gainesville cave divers set a world record for the longest underwater traverse between two cave openings.  The dive had been ten years in the making, with several preliminary explorations last summer setting the stage for the final push.  It took a small platoon of volunteers, none paid, some coming from as far away as Sweden, the UK and Singapore to assist with set-up dives and shore logistics. And each one had to shell out thousands for airline tickets, lodging, dive equipment, and gas fills.

Every detail had been worked out well in advance, from how many scooters and spare tanks would be staged in the underwater cave, to each diver's individual bottom time and decompression, to who would deliver snacks to the explorers during their long decompression in a semi-dry underwater habitat.  Observing all this was a lot like watching an elite commando unit preparing to assault an enemy beachhead.  The mission was every bit as life threatening as battle, but the participants remained calm -- even nonchalant -- joking among themselves right up to the start of the dive.

There was about a five-hour time frame when Casey and Jarrod were to pass through the "point of no return" in the middle of traverse where no one would be able to save them if something went wrong.  Those hours must have been very tense for the shore crew and support divers, although they were careful not to show it. 

When Casey and Jarrod finally made it to their first decompression stop near the end of the historic traverse Saturday night, I could just feel the relief washing over the gathering. 

The message, "They're back!" was relayed by cell phone from one shore crew to the other and by Trio to a host of fellow cave divers anxiously awaiting news from around the globe.

As I stood  clad in a slicker in the rain watching support divers heading down to meet the explorers, someone asked me why there weren't more news media on hand to cover what is actually the equivalent of a space walk below the surface of the earth.

I told him, "Over the years, you apparently have made it look too easy.  You are the victims of your own success.  People don't realize how dangerous this really is.  If they did, maybe more news media would show up."

It's a shame that it takes death or destruction to draw publicity for an exploration of one of Earth's last real frontiers.   Expanding knowledge and awareness of a hidden, underground environment where Florida's lifeblood -- fresh water -- flows makes a lot more sense to me than jumping out of an airplane just for a thrill.