glub
Lest any of you think that the northwest winter has kept me from my out-of-doors pursuits, I feel the need to update and defend my hard-core-hood-ness and also, apparently, use more hyphens than God. Since God probably has better things to do punctuation-wise (had to slip one more in).I have no idea where I was going with that.
Last weekend was the first official scuba event, and we got a bunch of new folks who were brave enough to dive when there is still officially snow on the ground. We only did one dive, since two of the guys hadn't done cold-water (hyphen! okay I'll stop now) since 2000 or so and another guy was diving in only a 4 mm wetsuit when the norm is 7 mm or even 9. Though with 9 mm you can't put your arms down and have to waddle like a penguin. Hee. It went well, and I was thoroughly entertained by both the lovely anemones and my dive buddy, who seemed to be trying her hardest to kick me in the head (again).
Last month I got my advanced certification through a series of boat dives in the south Puget Sound, and had a bit of an adventure. Oh! Two adventures! First: I was entirely spoiled by a cabin boy. I doubt that was his title, but he was in his early 20's and adorable so he made me feel a little old-lady-lecherous so, hence, "cabin boy". He followed me around and made sure that I was warm by pouring hot water down the back of my wetsuit and offering blankets, gloves, etc. He helped me with my gear, even going as far as to put on my fins for me (*swoon*), and adjust my wetsuit hood (uh, slightly lesser *swoon*). Granted, he did this for the rest of the guys too (I was the only female, except for the other deckhand chick) (note: NOT "cabin girl", as I don't swing like that) but there was a certain special flair and level of attention. Or, alternately, I could have been imaginging things. Like taking him home with me and having him pour warm water over me at inappropriate times and put on my sneakers and optional hats with that same loving hand. Then pushing me out the door the same caring way he shoved me off the boat. Ahh, amour.
Um. Also, there was a moment that I certainly did not imagine in my chilled little brain - we were diving off Zee's Reef near Tacoma, and hovering next to the flat wall of the reef looking for octopuses (we'd already seen a bunch of wolf eels staring at us from their burrows). I was about 3 feet or less from the vertical surface of the wall, and my buddy was swimming slightly ahead of and above me. To be honest, I wasn't really paying attention. The reef was brightly colored in purples, greens, and the occasional flash of orange and I was swimming in slow spirals, admiring the view. It was at the point of the spiral where I was closest to "normal" (face-down) that it happened. A tentacle snaked out of a crack in the rock about a foot below me, stretched out to its fullest extent (I'm guessing about 7 to 8 feet), curled lazily back in on itself and retreated back into the rock.
You're not supposed to stop breathing when underwater, but I didn't make any bubbles for quite a while after that.
My buddy turned around and I tried to recreate what had just happened with my shaking arm motions, but he didn't get it. We found another giant one for him later (I stayed back quite a ways and shined my flashlight so he could get a better look. I'm so noble.) so it all worked out. Now I'm working up the courage to feed a wolf eel. Big frickin' teeth. My personal messing-with-nature theory is that if I leave them alone (aside from the occasional crab high-five), they will not attack me. It's worked so far, but the big question is if feeding = good karma or if feeding = a bad idea that will put my hands very close to the biting end of a big ill-tempered critter.
I'm looking for very large things that I can feed them from a distance.
posted by LadyJay @ 3:05 PM
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