Go deep, stay long

The Scuba Connection had a charter to the Lillian this week.  Wayne was out with a class. With a few of the usual suspects in tow, the Independence got underway.   NOAA was calling for thunder storms in the afternoon.  The drive out of the inlet was in heavy fog.  Once that open up, we could see on the radar that the rain was following us out (a bit early).  The worst of it hit before we got to the wreck, and mostly cleared by the time Richie had us tied in.

The passengers soon rolled in, and Richie returned with a nice bag of scallops and bugs.   He had us tied into a large pipe next to the engine.  This section of the wreck stood some 20 ft off the silty bottom.  The surface temp was 58.  Bottom temp was 43-48, depending on who you asked, and visibility was a dark 40.  If the sun came out, this would be a fantastic dive.  As it was, it was just great.

The Lillian was a freighter that sunk back in 1939 with a cargo of sugar. It sank in 150 ft of water after a collision in the fog.   The wreck is on the edge of the mud hole, so the conditions can vary depending on the tide.

After seeing all the scallops coming up, I figured I’d have to go out in the sand to find any.  This proved futile, as the scallops were on the wreck itself.  Once I figured this out, I bagged my share just as my reel decided it did not want to go any further. Flounder were all over this wreck.  Some were so large, I had to check twice.  Many were still buried in the sand.  Those I checked three times.   Ling cod were also about, along with a few Eel Pouts.  One unusual item was the large sponges lodged about the wreck.  These seemed out of place here.  Some were close to 3 feet across, just laying in the sand.  Captain Dan told us to keep an eye out for portholes, so I looked closely as I reeled my line back in.

I headed back to the boilers, and was soon comforted by the sight of the strobe in the distance.  These were great conditions for this wreck.    Back on the boat, we all took turns cleaning scallops.  Several of the passengers had bagged their first scallops, and were learning how to clean them under Captain Dan’s tutelage.

We headed home just as the sun broke through the clouds.  Oh well, it was still a great dive!  The scallop dinner was good too!

With full boat, the Independence headed out for a Black Friday dive. Most of the divers were surprised at the number of other divers aboard. It was probably the result of many people having the day off work, and a favorable forecast. Everyone seemed happy to get in another dive for the season.

We were shocked to find that NOAA’s forecast was not exactly accurate. The front they were expecting to pass during the night had done so later than expected. We were faced with a swell from the southeast, and wind from the southwest. Given the conditions everyone agreed to changed the intended destination and headed to the Mohawk. The swell stirred up the bottom a bit reducing the visibility to 25 ft. The water temp had dropped from 54 degrees last week to 50 degrees. Some say the surface temp was a bit lower, but I did not take note of it.

By the time I splashed, some of the other divers had started to surface with some nice size tog and a few lobsters in tow. The report of 25 ft of vis, swell, and low light from the overcast sky made me decide to leave the camera onboard.

On my way down, I passed the remaining divers coming up the line. The bottom quickly came into view, but I had to give my eyes a few moments to adjust to the low light. The last time on this wreck the current had pushed me to the starboard side. This time it was to port. Now I could check out the rest of the wreck.

Frankie had us tied in next to the boilers. I started heading aft past the engine and stern, then doubled back toward the bow. From the last dive, the debris on the starboard side of the wreck had been mostly gear and cargo. Here on the port side, the debris consisted mostly of hull. Ribs and strakes stood up out of the sand making navigation in the surge a bit of a timing issue. In the lea, there were small schools of fish taking refuge. Most of the larger sea bass and tog were hiding under the debris. Normally they are still active when the water is this warm, but they may have been waiting for more daylight to hunt for food.

Before long the bridge loomed up out of the center of the debris, an indication that I was approaching the bow. Here and there were balls of rope and netting swaying back and forth in the surge, almost looking alive in the hazy distance. The bow section was again surrounded by a school of cunners and juvenile sea bass. This time, I could not see from the base to the tip, and in the darkness I almost did not recognize where I was.

I started heading back to the stern. At several points I headed out into the sand to see if the small pieces of wreckage might contain lobster. I was repeatedly disappointed. Soon, I noticed that I could no longer hear the sound of bubbles in the distance. Figuring that the other divers were done their second dive, I headed to the line and just as I started to ascend, it went slack. I guess that means I’m the last one in, and it’s time to pull.

When I broke the surface I noticed that the swell had subsided, and wind seemed to have died down. We were soon headed back in much calmer seas, but the air temperature had dropped significantly. Chalk up another one for NOAA, but was still a great day of diving.

The Independence II headed out this week on another wreck exploration trip. Captain Dan Bartone had obtained some promising hang numbers a few weeks back. They were located within a few miles of three known Black Sunday wrecks, and warranted further investigation. We’ve tried to get out a few times, but Neptune had his own ideas. This week the weather cooperated. Dan assembled some of the usual suspects (Dive Marshal Bill Trent, Richie Kohler and Dave Oldham), and headed over 50 miles offshore to check them out.

We arrived to sunny skies and clear warm water. Bill and Richie jumped in and tied in to the wreck in 230 fsw. The report came back that the current was ripping the whole way down to the wreck. While Richie swam along the wreck in an attempt identify her, Bill had other priorities, and completely filling his bag with lobster. Quite literally, one more lobster, and the bag would not close.

Dan and I splashed to check her out, and pull the hook. With the reports on the strong current, I opted to leave the camera topside. This was a good call, as the decent was hand over hand all the way down the line. We reached the bottom to find 40+ ft of vis, 47 degree water, and reasonably ambient light for this depth. We were tied into the bow winch with her boiler near by. What appeared to be the bowsprit could be seen a short distance off in the sand. This and other structures showed evidence that she was a sailing ship. We were not able to make it to the stern, given the current and the alloted time, but she appears to be over 150′.

We were quickly out of time, and had to get back to pull the hook. Dan and I spent the next hour+ decompressing in the 65 degree water. It felt comfortable to me, but Dan had a leak in his drysuit, and was chilling quickly at 30′. We got on board and headed back home.

Sunset at Clark’s

On the way back we all discussed the nature of the wreck. She’s a low lying, wooden sailing vessel which means that identification will require some digging. Her position is within 10 miles of the charted position of three other Black Sunday wrecks. Could she be one also? Only time will tell!

We arrived home to a beautiful sunset, and hot lobster dinner!

The Mud Hole!  Always known for bad vis, and difficult conditions.   Today the intrepid divers of Adventure Scuba had the charter, and we headed out for the wreck of the Lillian.  For those of you familiar with South Jersey diving, this is not the Southern Lillian.   This is the real thing.

The Lillian was as US freighter sunk in 1939 after a collision with much larger freighter the Wiegand.  The wrecks is in 150 ft of water about 23 miles from the Manasquan inlet.  Given the distance and the depth, she is not hit frequently.  Given that she is in the outlet of the mud hole, the viability is often poor.  Today was the exception!

We left the inlet with the knowledge that the conditions were forecast to degrade over the course of the day.   The plan was for one dive on the Lillian, then go in shore and hit the Arundo, in 140 ft just north of the mud hole.  The conditions on the way out were favorable, and we made good time.   I took the watch most of the way letting the rest of the crew sleep.   Since I had students today, I knew I could not tie in, so it was the least I could do.   When we hit the Lillian, the waves were 3-4, but the winds were 15+.  This was going to built, but not too much yet.  When Danny jumped in to tie, we could see that the surface conditions were clear, and the sun was clear above us.

Since Captain Dan wanted to jump in later, I went in right away.  We did our checks, and hit the water as soon as the pool was open.  I did my checks and waited at 20 ft.  We did our buddy checks and bubble checks, then quickly dropped down the line.  At 70 ft we felt the thermocline, and the vis dropped off slightly.  I switched my light on, and continued to drop.

We hit the bottom in 150 ft of water.  I was AMAZED at the vis.  We had over 30 ft of of vis with reasonable ambient light.  This was astounding to me.  Every other trip here was in 10 ft of dark viability.  I signaled Kevin to tie off a reel (practice and all).   Then we headed off along the wreck.  Most of what we saw was deckplates, and broken machinery.  My intent was to take a tour of the wreck rather than look for anything in particular.   In retrospect they would have been happy just getting scallops.

We slowly covered the top of the wreck looking in each nook, taking time to understand what we were seeing.  Along the way I stopped to pointed out a few lobsters, scallops, and a rather large monkfish.  I also observed a few open holes where the portholes had been removed.

Time grew short,  or perhaps the better statement is the gas supply dwindled, and we turned on queue.   On the way back I noticed from the empty catch bags, that neither one had capitalized on my birddoging.  We returned to the anchor, and headed up at the designated time.

Decompression was cool at first.  I’ve become accustom to the 48 degrees we’ve enjoyed on the bottom since early August.  Now the 46 degrees seems cool by comparison.  The thermocline came into play quickly, as the vis expanded to over 100ft.  We could now see the entire hull of the Indy above us while we finished our deco in comfort.

While my students failed in the hunter gatherer portion of the class, many of the other passengers had recovered large quantities of scallops and lobster.  There were also reported sightings of portholes, boilers, and assorted artifacts.   I obviously had not made it clear that bribing your instructor with food goes a long toward passing!

Once on the surface, we cleaned scallops and admired lobster, Captain Dan jumped in and did his dive.  He pulled the hook, and Bill maneuvered to pick him up.   Once up, he also commented on the amazing vis.  I’ve only been here a few time, but his reaction speaks volumes.   This was an exceptional day on the Lillian.

With the winds picking up, we headed inshore to the Arundo for our second dive.  The Arundo is the wreck of a Freighter, sunk in 1942 by the U-136.  She sank on the north side of the mud hole in 140 ft of water.  Among other cargo, she was carrying vehicles (jeeps and trucks) as well as a pair of locomotives.  Just for the artifact divers, she was carrying 5000 cases of Canadian beer. (Yup, I’ve got a few bottles.)

When we tied in, I could tell that the wind and current were not aligned.   When I splashed, I was quickly drawn under the boat, as the current was from port to starboard.   While not strong, it’s never comforting to hang a few feet under the large props of the Indy.

Again, once our checks were complete, we dropped down through the clear surface water down to the wreck of the Arundo.  From previous experience, the vis is at best 20 ft.   Today was about average.   We hit the bottom, and I instructed Dave to tie off this time.  During the ride in, they had expressed an interest in the hunter gather portion of the class.  This was not the best wreck for the test, but here goes.   We swam out looking for some sort of quarry.  I’ve never found that many scallops on this wreck, so my concentration was on lobster.  Investigations only showed a few tiny specimens.  Peering under each plate only exposed a large population of eel-pouts.

I tried my best to find some way for my students to prove themselves, but other than a few large tog, there was not much available.   At one point I turned to see them collecting the large mussels connected here and there to the wreck.   Some part of me was repulsed by the thought of mussels from the mud hole, but to each his own.  We finished up our bottom time, and headed up the line.  My bag was empty, but their bags were full of 6-8 inch mussels.

We hit the surface, and headed back to shore.  Kevin was cleaning mussels during the trip, while I tried to grab some sleep. It had been a long day, but a great day of diving!

The other week we headed out to the U-869.  I’ve been there a few times, and was looking forward to another great trip.   When packing my gear aboard, I was informed that I was just needed for support, and I would be able to do a dive for fun.  Sounds like a plan I can live with!  In light of this plan, I opted to take the second watch.   Brandon took first watch then woke me a few minutes early to  let me wake up a bit.

MY God!  It’s full of stars!    Quite simply, the sky is amazing out there!  After the wake up call, (while Brandon was still at the helm) I went back to the cooler to grab my (now) ice coffee, and a snack.  Looking up was just astonishing!!!!!  I have no words to describe it.  With the light pollution in the north east, we really can not appreciate the amazing canopy that is above us.  30 miles out, there is no other light, and the stars are a carpet of incomprehensible beauty.   The constellations stood out so clearly, I felt I could reach out and touch them. Behind them was the often missed “milky way” which was visible as a blanket of soft but distinct lights.  On course before us were Orion and the Pleiades.  Both more pronounced that my home telescope could hope to show.   I stood in awe for a few minutes, while Brandon kept looking to check that I had not fallen overboard.  Back to work, time to drive!

The eyes play tricks on you during the night.  At one point I could swear a large ship was bearing down on us off the port bow, but nothing showed on radar.   After a few moments of terror, I realized it was few clouds off on the horizon, just visible in the predawn light.  While it was really on the horizon, it appeared to be right at our window.   It’s easy to see how sea stories start.

We approached our destination, and discussions of the days events were rehashed. Plans were formed and then reformed.   After a few evolutions, it was revealed that I was tying in.   So much for that fun dive, but such is the life!  Danny and I geared up to splash.  The line was in, but apparently there was some issue.  It was pulled and dropped again.  (Never a good sign.)  We splashed to find clear water, and a moderate current.  As it turned out the current went all the way down to the wreck.  Since the shot was only a weight, any tension would pull it off the wreck.   We had to swim along the shot rather than pull on it to aid our decent.

After a few minutes of decent, the light dimmed, and I switched on my HID.   35 watts of bright blue light illuminated the surrounding area.  However I could not see any indication Danny’s torch. I stopped my decent and looked up the line.  There was no indication of Danny above me.  Not good!  The depth read 150, a long way to go yet.  I continued my decent.   Slowly the lights went out around me, but the current continued to keep the line just out of my reach.   Deeper, deeper…. Only my lights and gauges were visible now. Deeper… deeper, there, what’s that?  The line went off quickly forward.   I could see the shot, but nothing else.   It’s in the sand!   Damn!

I looked around, but there was nothing immediately in sight.   The vis was good, but hard to tell the distance with nothing but sand.   I tied off my reel to the shot, then headed off into the current ( the most likely direction of the wreck).   After only a few seconds, I could see clam shells and debris, then the shadow of the wreck.   I turned back to the shot.  Danny could now be seen approaching, however he had no light.  He was fiddling with something.  Yup, his light had failed (one of those special buys from NESS).

I returned to the shot, and proceeded to complete the task at hand, put a bag on it and shot it up. Once complete, I turned to see the Danny drifting off into the distance.   He was being pulled by the drag on 300 ft of line, and drifting away from the wreck.   After a quick swim, I grabbed the chain from his hand, and proceeded to walk it along the bottom to the wreck.  We brought it to the top, and dropped it by a solid  structure, then I signaled that I was going to look around.  We were asked to tie into a clam dredge just off the starboard side.  I quickly swam around the area, but could not find a dredge.  I did find torpedo tubes which indicated that we were on the bow.   When I returned I found Danny had wrapped the chain around the structure which turned out to be a bow winch. I guess this would have to be good enough, as the current would prevent us from moving the line much.  I indicated for him to send up the signal.

It had taken a while to tie in, so I only had a few minutes left.  Previously while looking around, my every gaze had been met by sets of claws and antenna.   For some reason there lots of large lobster on this wreck.  With the few minutes left, I grabbed a few, and headed up. The vis had been great, and I was hoping to see more!!!   Maybe I’ll get a second “fun” dive.

The ascent was cool up to the 70ft stop where the water warmed up a bit.   Then it was comfortable to the surface.  The vis here opened up so that the anchor line and the entire hull of the Indy was in view.  After boarding we helped the remaining passengers while the rest of the crew jumped in.

Everyone talked about how great the vis was, and how nice the wreck was.  I was not able to see much, but had to console myself with the fact that my lobster was the largest, and it was only a few feet from the shot line.

On the way home, we all grabbed some sleep, and hoped for another day like this on the wreck.