Rainy Season Below and Above the Water

[Tubesnout23]

Like a faithful comet, Memorial week-end appears on the skies of the American Gregorian calendar at the end of May. In the Pacific Northwest this long craved holiday lies on the borderline between spring and summer and inevitably tends to be characterized by atmospheric instability and unpredictability. It is a fact that local residents repeatedly emphasize when I engage them in casual conversations about vacationing in this corner of the world at this time of the year. Despite this uncertain weather outlook, my buddy and I booked a campsite for three nights at Porteau Cove Provincial Park in British Columbia, four weeks in advance. Since then we had kept sending positive energy to whatever sky-spirit may have inhabited that airy realm hoping for the best.

Unfortunately our humble attempts to induce favorable weather turned out to be fruitless, while the folkloric gloomy Memorial week-end meteorological predictions proved to be spot on. Our hopes to spend a sunny, warm break diving in Canadian waters were dashed by the presence of a stubborn low pressure system that hovered over our heads motionless for the whole duration of our stay. With clouds engrossed with rain and drizzle it made this camping trip the wettest ever experienced since I began camping in the Pacific Northwest in 2004. Thank heaven that, for the first time, I had the sense to borrow a tarp from a friend of mine just in case.

That life-saving tarp was one of the innumerable items that we were able to squeeze inside the trunk of our little Honda breaking all previous loading records. The weight was so much that that poor vehicle leaned backward and its hood was almost facing the sky instead of the road. Even the Canadian border patrol gave up the idea of searching the car after glancing at what must have looked like from the outside a pile of endless junk. After driving for a couple of hours on a winding and scenic coastal road we reached the campground at Porteau Cove Provincial Park on the shores of Howe Sound. The sky was heavy with moisture and the campers were all bundled up. Who did not care about the rain? Some barefoot teenagers and dogs.

The current-friendly Porteau Cove Marine Park is a popular shore-dive destination that attracts beginner and experienced divers alike. It is composed of several sunken vessels and artificial reefs made of tires, concrete blocks and H metal frames on a sandy and silty bottom. My buddy dove this site once before years ago when he explored the most famous wreck of the park: the Nakaya, a World War II minesweeper whose bow rests at a depth of 100ft. I was looking forward to see what a WWII relic looked like underwater. However things did not turn out to be so simple.

On Saturday morning, after soothing our damp bones with a warm breakfast under the cover of the tarp, we drove the car to the marine park parking lot. The tide was way out but the white buoys, which marked the boundary of the park looked quite far still. No matter how low the water would have retreated that day, reaching those artificial reefs would have involved doing some surface swimming. Then we noticed that the yellow buoy that once located the Nakaya was gone from the surface of the water and the park map. We speculated that the wooden structure of the ship must have deteriorated so badly that it had collapsed entirely so the park officials decided to eliminate any visible traces of the wreck from land for safety. Reluctantly we gave up the idea to pay a visit to the Nakaya. So, if there was any consolation, we ended up diving in other areas of the park closer to shore that required shorter surface swims and explored two smaller metal wrecks instead: the Centennial III and the Grant Hall.

After those two dives we ran out of gas because our mileage efficient yet small car does not allow us to carry more than four tanks. Unfortunately, the lack of a dive shop at the nearby town of Squamish forced us to drive back to North Vancouver to re-fill them on Sunday morning. During the trip my head filled with flashbacks from my second dive at Porteau Cove. How mysterious and fascinating the Grant Hall looked under that green cloudy water! Its body skinny and pointed on one end and bulging on the other was covered with plumose anemones. Some of them drooped down toward the bottom stretching their soft columns to a length of over three feet as if they were stalactites made of melting marshmallow. The surreal fern-like feather stars not only crawled on the rusty body of the Grant Hall but, to my surprise, decorated the sandy bottom around the wreck together with an endless number of gray brittle stars.

Unlike the big wrecks that I saw in Roatan, which were almost devoid of life apart from a couple of green moray eels, a grouper and some sponges; this smaller vessel teemed with life. This comparison made me realize that wrecks in the cold waters of the Pacific Northwest seem to sustain more marine creatures than their warm water counterparts. At the same time they also look somewhat more intimidating and dangerous. Maybe it has something to do with the ever present low visibility and the water's unwelcoming chilliness. However tropical wrecks can wickedly lure you into unplanned deeper depth because the good visibility is so reassuring that may end up relaxing your situational awareness.

While I was lost in those thoughts cramps began to rumble inside my belly making me realize with frustration that my monthly cycle was in the process to unleash its bloody force. Once the tanks were filled my buddy and I discussed whether it would have been OK to keep diving or not. We agreed to play it by ear and tentatively planned to dive The Cut at Whytecliff instead of Porteau Cove Marine Park because we also wanted to look at a natural rocky reef while in Canada.

By the time we drove to the parking lot at Whytecliff my cramps subsided and we decided to dive at the Cut. Entering the water at this particular spot can be a tricky business if the sea is too rough because the tiny beach is made of pebbles and rocks of various sizes and it flanked by rock walls on both sides. It did not feel very windy on the bluff but when we walked down to the beach to look at the water there was more breeze than we expected and the surface was a bit choppy. We decided to ask other divers about how the current was doing. A couple of technical divers told us that at 100 ft the visibility was 60 ft and they did not have to deal with current. If we did encountered any they suggested to ascend to shallower water and beside there had never been any current that they could not handle! ‘Huumm.. It is all well and good but those guys have doubles!’ I thought.

While I was digesting those pieces of information I began the usual routine of assembling my gear without knowing that another disappointing surprise was lurking inside the recesses of the car trunk: my main dive light was not inside my scuba bin. With disbelief I stripped searched the vehicle and almost turned it upside down. The light did not show up. I was dumbstruck by the thought that yesterday at Porteau Cove after we were through with our second dive and were moving the gear back and forth from a picnic table to the car that lay just few feet away from each other, somebody may have walked by and nonchalantly grabbed my light while I was not looking!

Eventually I had to resign myself to the fact that I did not have a magic wand to materialize the light effortlessly and cheaply. It was gone for good. So once again we discussed what to do and decided to dive anyway but without going too deep because I would have to use my back up light. When we were ready, we hiked down to the narrow beach and slowly entered the water watching every single step that we had to take on its slippery rocks. While we were putting on our fins the surf was bouncing us around a little and I felt cold water seeping through into my left wrist. I thought that it was the new dry glove with trapped fluff from my alpaca liner glove that did not seal properly and put up with it.

We surface swam to a rock and submerged. I was going down rocking gently into a visibility of several feet when I noticed that my dump valve was not working right. When I turned it did not make the familiar sound that I had learned to recognize with time and a lot of more water flushed inside my left arm soaking it down to the bone. Then it was clear that somehow the valve became loose leaving a substantial gap where the water had penetrated.

I immediately signaled my buddy to go back up to the surface. Once there I asked him to check the valve and he was able to screw it back in place. This time it sounded right when I turned it so we submerged for a second time and underwater I signaled my buddy to look at the valve again to make sure that it was dumping air. It did, so at last we were ready to enjoy the dive by exploring a rocky bottom characterized by several ledges filled with sand and a vertical wall that led into… the night - that’s how dark that abyss looked.

Our original plan was to swim to the tip end of the wall and then turn left into the adjacent bay and exit from the main beach because we thought that the surface would have been calmer. However at a depth of 66 feet we began to feel the current. It was pushing us backward toward our entry point. It was not really ripping, but not weak either. I don’t know why, maybe all those little problems that I had been encountering since we had arrived in British Columbia, piled up at once and created a short cut in my neurons, some light anxiety crept inside my brain and I began to breathe heavier than usual.

My inefficient breathing made me think that with our gas supplies and the rate of my air consumption keeping swimming against that current would have been foolish so I promptly signaled my buddy to stop fighting it and swim into shallower water. We then let it to drag us at its will making sure that we stayed close to the wall and the ledges. While all of this was happening, I regained control of my breathing. Around a depth of 50/40 feet we found a small ‘plateau’ where the current seemed to have slowed down so we hung around there for the rest of the dive.

We were not at a depth of 100ft with a visibility of 60 ft, facing, I imagine, a wall of cloud sponges and using a lot of gas. Instead we were in a place where we felt safe and could enjoy looking at other marine life that was all around us within our comfort zone. The patch of sand was crammed with tube dwelling anemones and orange sea pens. The rocks were covered with what looked like a carpet weaved with sunflower stars and we saw two magnificent pure white giant white dorids for the first time while kelp greenling would reluctantly get out of our way and small ling cods stared at us as if they were trying to figure out what we were.

On the way back to our entry point I began to feel lightly dizzy, ‘That’s it! Finally my body is telling me that enough is enough!’ I thought. My buddy and I followed both the contour of the bottom and the compass azimuth but ended up missing the small beach of The Cut of several yards and surfaced in front of a vertical rocky wall encrusted with mussels and acorn barnacles instead. There was no way that we could have climbed that wall even if we had a rope so we surfaced swam to the rocky beach. After being on land for a short while my sense of dizziness disappeared. Our last dive during the Memorial week-end in British Columbia was over with a sense of accomplishment because my buddy and I successfully worked as a team without bickering and I was able to deal with all those little technical mishaps without compromising my safety.

Under an imperturbable and foggy sky we drove back to the campground at Porteau Cove and checked whether, by a miracle, somebody had turned in to the lost and found my dive light. It did not surprise me that I was out of luck. On Monday morning we lazily listened to the rhythm of the rain tapping onto the tarp and the final pouring sound of the collected rain drops hitting the ground as if that stretched sheet of plastic was a syncopated eco-friendly fountain.

The thought of wearing our damp and chilled base layers, undergarments, socks and gloves for the fourth time was not very exciting. Slowly the realization that the Canadian rain had managed to erode our scuba enthusiasm surfaced into the humid atmosphere of the tent. We were ready to pack our mold-moss smelling stuff and make our way back to the US but not before eating one last breakfast warmed up on our camping stove and drinking a locally roasted cup of coffee in a nearby cozy café’.

At the border a welcoming sun finally bothered to show up! We soaked in its capricious warmth while waiting in line for more than one hour and a half. During that time I reflected on how this scuba diving trip had unfolded.
On one hand the loss of my dive light was definitively a bummer, on the other it had happened at a time when at last I could afford to buy the kind of dive light that I always wanted from the beginning of my diving carrier: a canister light. I would have to watch it with the determination of a well trained guard dog whose absentmindedness had successfully been eradicated, though.

Was the dump valve of my crotch leaking, second hand dry suit worth replacing? Had not the time come to finally taking the plunge and buying a brand new dry suit?
These technical ‘headaches’ and the unstoppable rainy weather had cast a shadow over my diving Memorial week-end in British Columbia. However through its ethereal darkness I can still perceive the thrilling sensations of enjoying the underwater surprises, such as those intriguing invertebrates, that revealed themselves to us in this corner of the Pacific Northwest.

[vimeo]http://www.vimeo.com/12397335[/vimeo]

[no excuses]

Nice report, sucks about youre dive light though. Glad to see that some else spent the weekend diving on the cheap lol, Sabre Rider, our girlfriends and myself spent the weekend in Garibaldi OR diving the coast and thank goodness we had a lil better weather, (and his motorhome lol).

[airsix]

Great report and slideshow. I love that you included your sketches of the sites.

[Tubesnout23]

Nice report, sucks about youre dive light though. Glad to see that some else spent the weekend diving on the cheap lol, Sabre Rider, our girlfriends and myself spent the weekend in Garibaldi OR diving the coast and thank goodness we had a lil better weather, (and his motorhome lol).

Thanks!Welcome to the club! It seems to me that in British Columbia it is a bit tougher to dive on the cheap because I have noticed that there are not as many campgrounds as in WA. A lot of areas are inaccessible if you don't have a boat or you cannot afford boat dives.

About the light...I did not expect it at all! When my memory card and camera batteries were stolen on a beach in Roatan I somewhat understood the thief, but Canada? Such a rich country? Well the bottom line is that nowadays it doesn't matter where you are, you always have to have your eyes glued to your stuff. It is sad, though.

[Tubesnout23]

Great report and slideshow. I love that you included your sketches of the sites.

I am glad you liked it. Too bad that you live so far away....Do you sometimes come over to Whidbey Island to dive?

[airsix]

I am glad you liked it. Too bad that you live so far away....Do you sometimes come over to Whidbey Island to dive?

I have not dived Whidbey yet, but do look forward to diving there in the future.
-Ben

[Alexitt]

Blue Tarp Diver, You're one of us... I love reading your reports, very well done. It makes one feel as though we were there right along with you... I unfortunately work on Memorial day weekend so am unable to join the throngs of people heading for the campgrounds (usually in inclement weather), still any trip is better than no trip at all... Thanks for sharing!!!

[Tubesnout23]

I am glad you liked it. Too bad that you live so far away....Do you sometimes come over to Whidbey Island to dive?

I have not dived Whidbey yet, but do look forward to diving there in the future.
-Ben

Let me know when you are in this neck of the woods, if you feel like it!

[Tubesnout23]

Blue Tarp Diver, You're one of us... I love reading your reports, very well done. It makes one feel as though we were there right along with you... I unfortunately work on Memorial day weekend so am unable to join the throngs of people heading for the campgrounds (usually in inclement weather), still any trip is better than no trip at all... Thanks for sharing!!!

Thanks Alexitt! I agree, any trip is better than no trip at all! It was wet but at least it was not cold.