By Ed Cook
The other day my father went on a dive which turned out to be
more of a learning experience than we had anticipated. It started out
great. When we arrived at the dive site the weather couldn't have been
better. The temperature was around 75 degrees, and the sun was shining
strongly. Pulling on our Farmer Johns we threw the rest of our gear
in a little cart we have and hiked the quarter mile down to the water.
We were doing a Jetty Dive at one of our favorite spots. There
were always "Bugs" here. Looking out at the jetty I was amazed by how
low the water was. My father explained this was called an extreme low
tide. ( No kidding ) I was going to be walking by rocks I had only
seen underwater. After looking at the currents and checking for rips
we decided this was going to be great. Suiting up we walked the
additional hundred yards or so to the water. Stumbling and bumbling
through the water until it was waist deep we stopped and pulled on
our fins. Walking out a little further we inflated our B.C.s' and
settled down to paddle out to the end of the jetty. Hey this is
nice. I don't even have to drag the blasted dive flag with me this
time. ( We had decided not to bring the flag with us. We knew the
area we were going to dive was filled with rocks, which we would be
diving around and under. We decided the slight risk of a boat being
there was less than the risk of becoming entangled in our floats
line.)
At the end of the jetty we stopped so my father could pull
on his gloves. While I was waiting on him I stuck my snorkel in my
mouth and ducked my head underwater to take a look. Wow. The water
was maybe twenty feet deep here, and I could clearly see the bottom.
On Cape Cod you can't ask for better vis. I was glad I brought my
camera with me.
As soon as my father was ready we did one last check.
Everything was good to go. We both had around 2100 pounds of air in
our tanks. ( Old 72 cf. jobs.) The air was turned on all the way,
everything was working, great. I glanced at my watch. 9:15 A.M.
lets go. Dropping down I watched the bottom coming up at me. I
popped a little more air in my B.C. and stopped at five feet above
the bottom. Fantastic. This was the first time I had been able to
stop my descent dead in the water without at least touching the
bottom. This promised to be a dive to remember. Working our way
down the rocks we came across a couple of Lobster traps. Looking in
on our way by we saw they all had at least one bug inside. This
looked good. Finally we reached a clay bank that lies down off the
end of the jetty. ( You have to know where to find it though.)
Working our way along it I glanced at my depth gauge. Thirty feet?
Man the last time I was here it was forty feet down and the current
was brutal. Today there was no current to speak of, and I could see
the end of the bank about twenty feet ahead of us. Ducking down along
its side we started looking in its holes. Every one held a bug. I
watched as my father went to work. Quickly he had caught three of
them. By this time we had reached the end of the clay bank. Turning
around we headed back to the jetty. As soon as we reached the rocks
at the end my father signaled we were going up. After swimming up we
sat on some rocks just in the water at the end of the jetty. "I just
wanted to rest for a bit" my father told me. After about five minutes
we headed back down.
Reaching the bottom we started poking around the rocks
themselves. Getting my attention, ( by pulling me backward by the
fin. If you don't think that's different have your buddy do it to
you when you're not expecting it. I almost lost my regulator.) My
father pointed out a starfish he had spotted. Man this sucker was at
least eight inches across. The biggest one I had seen on Cape.
Pulling my camera out of my B.C. pocket, ( now there's a trick
worthy of a contortionist,) I got a picture of it. Off we went again.
Man what a great feeling. Here we were, ghosting along underwater.
Breathing easy, zooming around and under rocks. ( I try to describe
this to my non diving friends and they just shake their heads.)
As we were moving along I passed a rock formation in the shape of a
circle. I recognized that. We were about three quarters of the way
back along the jetty. Wow, where had it all gone. I looked at my
camera and saw I had taken another ten shots along the way. Thinking
about it I could remember all of the shots, I just had to think
about it. Moving up over a rock I saw a strange rock, it was almost
perfectly rectangular. Going closer I saw that it was actually an old
Lobster trap wedged in the rocks. Now I could see where the rope had
broken. It was completely covered with weeds. This sucker had been
here for a while. Scraping the weeds away I saw there was a lobster
inside it. The poor thing was still a baby. It couldn't have been
longer than six inches. Still, it was too large to get out of the
mesh of the trap. Quickly I took a picture of it. Seeing me stop my
father came over to look. Looking at the trap he shook his head.
Together we pulled the trap out of the rocks and set it on the
bottom. Looking it over we finally found the hatch on it. Opening
this we reached inside and set the baby lobster free. ( If bugs can
smile this one was.) Reaching back in we pulled the cover out so
nothing would get trapped in there again. Time to head back in. We
were in about fifteen feet of water, right next to the jetty. As we
were moving along we saw rocks falling through the water ahead of
us. Looking at me my father motioned for us to head up the rocks and
surface. Along the way I stopped for a second to snap a picture of a
bright red starfish. Coming up alongside my father I stood up. When
I did this I saw he was talking to someone behind me. Turning around
I saw a Coast Guard twenty five footer about thirty feet away.
Pulling my hood down so I could hear, I listened in.
They asked my father where our dive flag was, and if we had
been bothering any of the traps. After expelling about the dive flag,
and telling them the only trap we had bothered was an old abandoned
one he asked what was up. The Coasties explained that a LobsterMan
had complained about a couple of divers out bothering his traps.
(while saying this they pointed at a boat, obviously too large to
come in where we were, about a mile away on the other side of the
inlet.) They went on to explain that it was regulation that divers
must show a diver down flag. ( While I was standing there I thought
about taking a picture of their boat from a fishes viewpoint but
decided that they probably would have thought I was being a wise
ass.) They then told us to surface swim back to the beach, and wait
for the Environmental Police. Oh well, this had been a great dive,
but it was slowly turning out not to be. Paddling back in, we
stopped in the shallows and removed our fins. While I was doing
this I watched as an Environmental Police Officer, ( I always
called them clam guards,) walked down the beach towards us. As soon
as he reached the shore where we were he demanded we come out of the
water. Sure why not? Getting out we walked up to him. Demanding my
father hand over his catch bag, he dumped it out on the sand, and
started checking for shorts. ( There weren't any.) While he was
doing this he looked at three crabs my father had caught without
my seeing them. These had to be the largest Blue Crabs I had ever
seen. Telling my father they were all legal, he let my father put
them back in the catch bag. As we were doing this he asked where our
flags were. ( Flags?) Explaining he told us it was a Massachusetts
law that divers must have a diver down flag in the water with them at
all times regardless of conditions, and it was also Mass. law that
you must also have a white flag flying with the Lobster Permit
numbers showing. ( For every permit there has to be a separate
flag.) He then asked us where our vehicle was parked. My father
told him, and explained that we had a small cart on the bluff we
used to ferry our gear down. Hearing this he led us to his truck,
(which was parked next to our cart,) and asked us if this was our
cart. When we replied that it was, he grabbed it and threw it in the
back of his truck. "I'll meet you back at your car", and off he went.
Well, this wasn't going to be fun. After the walk back to the car we
were roasting. ( Did I mention it was about a quarter mile, and the
sun was shining, and the air temp, was around 75? If not it was.)
Skinning out of our gear as fast as we could we gave him our IDs.
After looking at them for a while he finally decided to write out
some citations. I got one for diving without a dive flag, ( $50.00)
and a warning for lobstering without a permit. ( Huh? I was taking
pictures, I didn't even have a length gauge on me.) My father got
one for diving without a flag ( $50.00) and one for lobstering
without showing the numbers on the surface. ( $100.00) Those had to
be the most expensive lobster in the world.
Later on my friends took my citation, copied it, laminated
it, and framed it for me. They told me it was the first time they
had ever heard of someone getting a ticket for diving.
Two good things came out of that dive though. ( Other than
the lobster. They were good, but not worth &200.00) The first was we
decided how to rig the flag so it wouldn't be dangerous to us when
diving around rocks. The second was that my air consumption is
getting better. I had 400 PSI left in my tank after a total of an
hour ten minutes bottom time while my father had 300 PSI. ( I took
a picture of the gauges to rub it in.)