three questions: favorite diving spot so far? best experience while diving? dream dive you haven't made yet?
Sadly, it’s been a few years since I’ve gone diving. I did a little snorkeling when I lived in the Bahamas, but never made the time to do any dives (stupid, stupid, stupid!).
My favorite spot would be between a wreck I dove off Ft. Lauderdale (I can’t remember the name, but I think it was a navy ship in around 100’ of water) or the Rainbow River, which was a drift dive down a spring fed river that we canoed to the spring head, and then drifted for over an hour.
My favorite diving moment was actually right after a dive I did offshore St. Augustine. We were in 65 to 70 feet of water that only had about 20’ of visibility, and I was’t ready to get back in the boat, so I decided I’d try and freedive to the bottom. I tied off my BC and weights, took a deep breath, and started down towards a bottom that was nowhere in sight. I hit the thermocline and kept going, and just when I thought I wouldn’t make it, I saw the faint glow of the light sand and pushed towards it. At the bottom, I grabbed a handful of sand and pushed off as hard as I could with both feet. The moment I turned and looked up is THE thing that stands out in my memory. In the same way I couldn’t see the bottom from above, the surface was only recognizable by a subtle point light from the sun. I dolphin kicked straight toward it as hard as I could until I saw the outline of the boat. I broke the surface right off the bow, threw the handful of sand on deck, and took the deepest breath I could. I was definitely at my limit, but damn it felt good to push it.
I’m taking the easy way out by saying my dream dive is my next one… Though I wouldn’t mode a trip back to Roatan to actually dive, and I’d love a chance to dive a kelp forrest.
I’m going to have to turn your questions back on you now. Let’s hear ‘em!
Sigh. Storytime indeed! Well, Baroness Pontalba and her father owned the buildings surrounding the square (hence Cafe Pontalba). Oh, and fun fact, her initials are still intertwined into the iron balconies around Jackson Square.
Anyways, the Baroness was not very lady-like, and Andrew Jackson refused to tip his hat to her for this reason. The Baronness, royally pissed off, had the statue of Jackson built in the middle of the square, eternally tipping his hat towards the balcony of what was said to be her apartment.
The moral of the story - Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.
It’s times like right now that I wish I could drive down to Mary Street or the pier and just sit and stare at the ocean while the light goes from a post-sunset gold to that surreal lunar blue-grey, and then plummets into opaque black, tinged at the edges with the honey glow of sodium vapor.