Mainely Moose and More

                        Mainely Moose and More

    This photo adventure story's ending is more of a personal tragedy rather than the normal humorous events of my other adventure stories. But nonetheless, I felt compelled to write it as it was an adventure that I will remember all too well. The first part of this adventure went very well, giving me many hundreds of images to work on.

    The past fall photography trip of 2008 was to meet up with a good friend of mine from Colorado, Weldon Lee.  Weldon does photo workshops all over the world and has invited me to some of them. The original trip was to go to Haines, Alaska to photograph eagles, in perhaps in snowy conditions, which would be very hard to do here in South Florida. The airfare ended up being very expensive to Anchorage and so I looked over some of his other workshops and found fall Moose in Maine. That sounded equally as good of a trip to me.    

    I was born and raised in South Florida and have photographed the Southern Bald eagles here, but as much as I have stomped these backwoods in the last 45 years, I have never, ever come across the first moose. Now, perhaps they were here and I just never saw one... or maybe they just never liked our hot humid weather and migrated north. Whichever the case, I just don't believe there are many of these critters here in Florida. In fact, I have never seen a Florida Panther before either, but that doesn’t mean that they are not here.

    So where did all the Florida Moose go?? So I called Weldon to see if there was any space available on his Fall Moose trip in Maine. Gladly there was. I once again checked the airline flights to Bangor, Maine where everyone was to meet up with Weldon and found similar high airfares, and in fact, I would have needed to rent a car once up there. This added to the airfare was a lot more than what I bargained for just to be able to spend only 6 days in the quest for Bullwinkle ... surrounded hopefully in beautiful Fall colors.

    I checked the mileage from my place to Millinocket, where we would be staying, and added up the gas cost and I thought that I could drive to Maine, spend the week with Weldon and his group of people and then be able to visit other places, both on the way up and then back to Florida... sounded like a great plan to me. And so the trip was committed.

    Now I have a 26 ft travel trailer and truck that I could have taken, but the not-so-great gas mileage, probably less than 8 mpg was not going to make this trip work. So I removed the 4 bucket seats from the back of my van and said to myself...self, I could put my air mattress down the middle and still have lots of room down the sides and across the back for everything I really needed, as long as I didn't try to take the kitchen sink.

    I sat down and planned the routes north, with a few side trips here and there that I thought might provide images, and did the same for the return trip. These various points of interest were plotted up on my laptop as lat and long grid coordinates. I just plugged them into my new GPS unit and felt confident in being able to find and go just about anywhere. The only downfall in this thinking is that the maps aren't always accurate and new housing developments are not reflected on these maps. So there was a considerable amount of lost hours trying to chase down old grist mills and barns. I would say that I lost at least 2 days. When you are chasing old structures like grist mills and barns you will need to just drive as many backcountry roads as you can and stop at old country-type stores and ask questions. I found the latter to be quite effective.

    I belong to a website site for photographers called Flickr and have met a lot of very nice people there. Mike Jones was one of them. Mike's photostream of Acadia National Park on the coast of Maine had some really great images.  I wanted to go there and see the place for myself...which became stop number two on my long lists of places to visit. That side trip to Acadia was well worth it and I plan to go back, only next time I will spend the extra money in gas and take my travel trailer.....gotta love those creature comforts of indoor cooking and not having to crawl on my hands and knees to get into bed, not to mention being able to stand up and get dressed in the morning....with the lights on!!!!.

    So my first stop at the beginning of this photo adventure was actually in northern Georgia, where my cousin lives. I did some shooting in that area for a couple of days. I found some really nice stuff there on this trip before heading north. But once again, it was just driving the back roads and asking questions that provided the subjects that I was looking for.

    I might throw in something here that relates to all of this driving the backcountry roads. You will see lots of potential image possibilities without the main subject. Beautiful landscapes, but without that really old falling-down barn or grist mill. What I do with my photography is; "I make images". By this, I mean that if I see a beautiful landscape and think that if only there was a barn over there in the back corner, I would make the landscape image.

    Then when I found a barn that would be suitable I would make the barn image leaving plenty of space around the barn for blending. The chances of finding that perfect barn image without all of the traditional clutter around it is nearly impossible. However, the barn itself, giving the correct lighting would be perfect for an empty landscape. When I get back home I will take both of those images and make the image that I had in my mind. I have literally hundreds of old barns and grist mills and associated old farm equipment/old trucks and tractors from which to choose from to "Make" the final image.

    One of the many locations that Mike Jones suggested was Mt. Washington in New Hampshire as well as the very scenic highway called Kancamagus Hwy. Well, as my luck goes, I arrived at the town of North Woodstock, which was the entrance to Kancamagus Hwy. on a Saturday afternoon.

    Crowded driving conditions do not begin to describe what was before me, and that mountaintop that Mike said would be the greatest.....well, as I rounded a curve in the road, the full view of Mt. Washington covered in snow was what I saw. The cars were lined up for over a quarter of a mile trying to get in. I just knew that my spending $20.00 to go up that mountain was not going to get me to the top. I was very sure that the sudden snow caught the road cleaning crews a bit off guard. I just waved good ridings to Mt. Washington and proceeded to meet up with Weldon in Bangor. I finally got into Bangor around 7 pm and met up with Weldon and went to dinner and discussed the next day's plans. Since I had my own vehicle I gladly offered to take one or two of his photo tour people and all their gear with me to the hotel in Millinocket.

    So that week went by fairly quickly with hundreds of images captured for me to work on when I got back home. Since Weldon's photo tour was mainly targeted for Moose, which we did have more than enough photo opts, I began looking for other things for my photography. I found several roadside small creeks with lots of small waterfalls and multi-colored leaves on the rocks. These little creeks were perfect settings for Fall shooting. When I should some of Weldon's people the images that I made along the road, they wanted to do the same.

    I'm not so sure that Weldon had those types of images in mind for his group but he didn't mind, since we all had great Moose shooting for that week. We had a giant 6 foot wide racked male come into shooting range for 2 full days of shooting. In fact, that bull walked right up to the group to go ashore and up into the woods. I had to resort to a wide-angle lens as he was well within 4 feet away from me at one point.

    So after chasing Bullwinkle around in the north woods of Maine for a week, I spent another week at Acadia National Park on the coast of Maine. I arrived at the entrance gate behind many other vehicles, all trying to get into the campground.

    I didn't realize that this was Columbus Day weekend and the campground was full. I had my National Park Disabled card out when the woman walked back to me. She initially said that the campground was full, but when she saw my card shed said she would find me a site. Some days you just have all the luck and then other days the luck goes out the window. I got a great site next to the bathroom room with a concrete walkway. However, I had to carefully back up into the site between two very large boulders. I think that they were placed there so as to not drive between them, but I did which was more convenient for the site's table and fire pit. What I didn't know was that the sidewalls of the tires were rubbing against those boulders and by the end of that week I was having tire problems, eventually having to have both of them replaced on the right side. The front tire actually blew out at 60 mph and luckily I was able to pull onto a deserted side road and put on one of those stupid donut tires.

    That route led me to some very rough backcountry roads trying to get to a Walmart Supercenter by the shortest route on the GPS. I was hoping that the little donut tire would hold up. Actually, on that little side trip, I found a very old church and school with beautiful fall leaves on the trees. So all was not a total waste that day. After getting two new tires I spent the night at that Walmart Residence Inn, only to find that the night temperatures went down to 31 degrees. However, I was toasty warm with my heating pad on low inside my sleeping bag powered by a 400-watt power inverter.

    Acadia National Park was every bit as beautiful as Mike Jones had mentioned. I could have spent another week there easily had it not been for the campground was shutting down for the winter. I obtained some really great images there and probably still have some that I could work on some 12 years later. I'm always finding new images from this photo adventure and others that I never worked up for one reason or another. I probably only covered about one-fourth of the park and the surrounding areas outside of the park in the week that I was there. 

    So ... my return routes took me through the backwoods of upstate New York and south to the scenic drive through the Shenandoah National Park and the adjoining Blueridge Parkway National Park. I always stop in at the visitor’s centers to see what's available to photograph. I love waterfalls and the photos on the walls show them in the full water flow conditions of summer. The only problem was this was fall when the water flows are minimal. That generally does not stop me from hiking to at least one or two of them. So I checked a few out and found Dark Hollow falls to be a minimal hike for these tired old bones. Well, the hike was a lot more than I had planned on, and with a weak right knee, let's just say that was not the best decision I made that day.

    The knee held up very well, considering all of the hiking for Moose and hiking around the rocky shoreline of Acadia NP. But on this hike, it was swelling up like a tick on an old hound dog after I made it back to the truck. The lighting was terrible, just to add a little salt to the ole open wound, as they say...or someone said that once... I'm sure of it. However, I do manage to come away with some fairly good images nonetheless. I spent the night in another Walmart Residence Inn... and yes! I camp out in their parking lots along with many other campers...can't beat the nightly rates and 24-hour shopping. 

    After getting coffee bright and early the next morning, I headed south at the entrance to the Blueridge Parkway National Park scenic drive. The ole knee was almost back to near normal size as I headed south on the Blueridge Parkway to find a suitable location for a nice sunrise. 

    I then headed south and found a gem, for me that is. Next to the visitors center was a relocated farmstead from the very early 1900s. The complete farmstead was donated to the park service by the children of the original builders. Each and every structure was dismantled piece by piece and each part was numbered for reconstruction later by the park service in the mid-1900s. I arrived very early and there was no one around so I set out photographing without having to wait for people to get out of my photos. When I finally fished all of the structures, I heard chickens and saw that there was smoke coming out of the old log cabin's chimney. I went inside and found a very nice couple dressed in the period's clothing. After making several images inside that old cabin I asked the lady if she would pose for me by taking a fire poker and stir the fireplace

    That turned out great and reminded me of an earlier image I made of almost the exact same situation in Georgia back in the mid-80s. That B&W image turned out to be a Best in Show and was awarded 1st place and $300.00.

    This old log cabin held many beautiful images of a time long ago. Just to imagine taking this old cabin apart and relocating all of the pieces and rebuilding it back as it once was is mind-boggling. One of the very first images that I saw when I stepped into the cabin was this small window that is used to allow fresh air into the cabin when the fireplace is going. There was a shaft of bright sunlight streaming through it with the smoke in the room from the fireplace being illuminated by that window light. I made many images inside this old cabin that morning after the people left. Many people don't realize that wooden floors move when you walk on them. When you have your tripod down and camera set up on it you can really see that effect on the screen. So I had to wait quite a while for everyone to clear out so I could photograph. It was all worth the wait.

    After photographing all that morning and into the mid-afternoon at various stops along the parkway, I checked the map for my priority location number three of this trip, and that was Mabry Mill. This famous mill was on my list for years and now it was finally within reach, or so I thought. It was still a long way away, but I decided to just hunker down, make no more stops, and put the peddle to the metal and try to make it before the late afternoon sunlight was gone. Traveling at near light speed, and well over the posted speed limit of 25mph, I finally made it... just as the sun was heading over the mountains, but still in time to get off a few nice frames. Wanting to capture this mill in the morning light, I decided once again to seek the location of the nearest Wal-Mart Residence Inn from my GPS unit so that I could return bright and early the next morning. I wanted to shoot this thing... every-which-way from Sunday.... in fact, it was Sunday. After photographing the mill and surrounding old cabin and blacksmith shop, it was decision time once again. 

    Checking the maps against my proposed planned route back into northern Georgia, I found that I was still nearly 400 miles south of Cherokee and another 200 miles looping west to my cousin's place in northern Georgia. This would have been another 4 to 5 days, as the photographer flies, with all the planned stops along the way. I was tired, the knee was swelling up again... decision time once again.

    I knew that there was so much more that I wanted to photograph on this trip, the many roadside gems that you sometimes find when you least expect it, or when on a hike and you stop to smell the roses so to speak. I guess my hunting days of spot-stock have given me a better perspective of slowing down and just looking around me, many times looking for the smaller image within the big picture. I use my 100-400 telephoto zoom lens a lot for finding these smaller compositions. It seems to just pull the out of the big picture. I decided that I was going to have to make those other locations of waterfalls, log cabins, and grist’s mills and lord only knows what else, for another time. I headed directly by the quickest route south to Cleveland, Georgia at my cousin's place. He wasn’t expecting me for at least another week. I pulled in his driveway, called him on my cell phone as I went up to the door and was talking for a few minutes, and then knocked on his door. The dogs went berserk and he said I have to go see who is at the door. When he opened the door, I heard some muttered words that sounded like “Sombeech”. I just love doing that to people.

    

    After resting up a bit in Northern Georgia at my cousin's place, I spent a few days looking for old barns, some waterfalls, and whatever else I could find to fill in with more post-processing when I got back home.  I asked Billy where I could find a small waterfall that I didn't need to hike a long way to get to. He said, Helton Falls. I asked was it named after your family...he didn't really know for sure. There were a good number of Helton's in White County. Once again at this time of year, most waterfalls are a mere trickle of what they would be in the summer. This waterfall was no exception and the only real keeper was with using the 100-400 telephoto lens and a real slow shutter speed to capture water in slow motion. It sure didn't look like this in real-time. While driving as many backcountry roads as I could find, I came across this small stream. To enhance the scale of it I used my 10-22 mm lens to get down close to the foreground. This lens is pretty good at accentuating the scale of things with its tremendous depth of field of view. Finding the correct aperture for sharpness from just in front of the lens to near infinity is the key to very sharp images.

    I decided that I would top off this trip with a nice colorful sunset with the layers of the Blue Smoky Mountain tops. I chose the highest elevation point in Georgia, Brasstown Bald Mountain Overlook at 4783 FT. elevation. From that point, you can see at least 4 states and numerous mountains top all bathed in that soft blue haze known as the Smoky Mountains. Having never been there I dragged my cousin along with me. The huge parking lot was a bit overwhelming and I had hoped all of those people would clear out and they did. There was a tram that took people up to the top and back but the tram stopped running up at 5 PM. It was 6 and the lot was emptying quickly. We started out walking past this nice paved roadway that the tram took up to the observation point and I thought why not walk up this nice paved road instead of the hiking trail. Other hikers were going up that road, but I reluctantly chose the hiking trail...the one with the large sign indicating that this was a strenuous hiking trail. Well, that was all I needed to see, but the little kids with parents in tow kinda made me feel bad and so we took that damn hiking trail................not the best decision I made that day I might add. 

    That trail lived up to that stupid sign...it was strenuous all right. For someone with a weak knee, carrying a heavy tripod and two cameras, I began to wonder about this mind-driven sunset photo that I was after. Well, after several stops to rest the knee and body we continued on to the summit... Hell, I'm a flatlander and not used to climbing in high elevations. The hiking trail eventually ended at that same paved roadway the tram takes about 40 feet or so from the summit. I love that term, “Summit”. We don't have many of those in Florida. Straight ahead were some earthen stairs ... of which I had given a great deal of thought about going around them, as had others before me, from the way the ground was worn. But NO!!!… I decided to take the stairs... not the second-best decisions I made that day and the One I now regret with the utmost of passion. The first couple of steps was alright, but the next to the last step was a bit higher and so I mistakenly took it with the weak knee ahead of the good one and attempted to push up............ “Holy Sheep Sh__, Batman".  The heavenly gates opened up and angels spoke to me in a way I will remember for the rest of my natural-born days here on earth. The light then went dark; little birds were flying all around me... which were very hard to see through the tears streaming down my cheeks. Then it hit me....."PAIN"... none like I had ever felt before in my life. I swore someone drove a railroad spike through my knee... I couldn't figure out why in the hell they would do that. I spun around and sat down all in one swift motion, grabbing the handrail as if it were my last hope of not going over some cliff. I must have sat there for quite some time. My cousin came back and said, "We're almost there". He also indicated that time was running out... funny... I was thinking the same thing but in a much different way. I faintly remember saying "That's IT".........." I can't go any further ". I can only hope that was all that I may have blurted out. I guess my cousin didn't appreciate me dragging him to the top of this mountain only to hear me say that. Only when he noticed the tears streaming down my face did he realize something very wrong had happened.

    After what had seemed like an eternity, I finally managed to get up. I had to use my tripod and the handrail, but could not put any weight on that knee. People were trying to come down those steps and go around me. I muttered some words that didn't make sense to anyone other than me, I’m sure. I managed to get back down to the last step and hard pavement...not sure if I floated down or just how I did it. My cousin would never tell me. Normally I hate carrying tripods, but in this rare case, I loved that damn tripod. I gave my two cameras to my cousin and tried to hobble down that roadway using the tripod to hang onto. It probably looked like a tall crab going sideways with one claw hanging onto this metal contraption. After making some slow progress in my downhill adventure on that paved tram road, I came to a curve in the road, and there was my sunset shot. Not the one I had envisioned, but at least it resembled such. I got one of my cameras back and somehow managed to fire off one frame of the now-infamous “Sunset from Hell”.

    The hike back down that road would have probably only have taken about 20 minutes. My hobbling, crab crawling decent getting back down that damn mountain to the parking lot took over an hour and a half. I must have looked like Frankenstein, dragging one leg behind me moaning in pain. It was pitch dark by now...can't see your hand in front of your face. Every rock looked like a black bear. I could just see the newspaper headlines describing all of this. I told my cousin to take my cameras and go on down and move the car closer to the gate. I'm sure he would have never seen all of the bears I saw that long night.

    After a couple of days at my cousin's house of alternating between frozen bags of peas and whatever else was in his freezer, placing them on the knee trying to get the swelling down, I managed enough energy to endure the ten-hour drive south to Florida... good thing for cruise control. This was not the happy ending that I planned for, which was initially a pretty good 30-day photography trip.

    When I was finally able to drive back home and see my orthopedic surgeon, my worst fears were brought to light. The knee was a goner, kaput, nada, and never again going to be my right-hand man. A new knee replacement was the next major chapter in my life, but that was not going to happen until January, and here it was the last week of October. My surgeon assured me that 95% of these kinds of surgeries go without any complications. That was somewhat reassuring, but I was wondering about that other damn 2%. I didn't what to know at this point, but I was soon going to find out firsthand. 

    The surgery went very well; in fact, the epidural was working overtime. I felt great...no pain...up and walking. The first two days went uneventful.... everything went according to my plan. I was walking, with that stupid walker, but walking...when the physical therapist noticed swelling in the right calf. Of course, this was the day before I was to be released to go home right?"…Yeah Right". They brought in the ultrasound machine and... You guessed it... "Blood Clot"...right below the new knee.

    No, I don't have a black cloud over my head... it's a damn summer thunderstorm with enough lightning to light up a small city.

    So now it's coumadin for the next six months to help dissolve the blood clot and hopefully reduce the immense swelling of my knee. This should, hopefully, give me more mobility and the ability to bend the knee more than I can now.

    This is where this adventure story ends for now. It’s been a little over three months since the surgery and I am getting around OK, but not where I had planned to be. I am sitting in a campground writing this sort of adventure story, which is unlike the other adventure stories that I have written and posted to my blog site. I try to find some humor in all of this, I really do...but sometimes it’s hard to do given the outcome of this adventure. 

    This 30-day photographing trip to many points north has given me some very good images and another 30-minute digital slide program to present. So I have to be thankful for that.

This adventure story was updated on October 1, 2020

The Myakka Gator

    This was most probably the largest gator in the wild that I have ever seen in my life... it was huge!

    The morning started out very early, before dawn to possibly capture yet another beautiful sunrise in this State Park near my home in Southwest Florida. The Park ... Myakka River State Park, located approximately 10 miles east of I-75 and Sarasota Florida on highway 72.

    A little history about this Park. In a scene reminiscent of what early Native Americans and Spanish explorers witnessed, arching palm trees and live oaks reflect on a winding tea-colored stream. The cries of limpkins, Souther Bald Eagle, Owls, and Osprey pierce the air while alligators and turtles sun lazily on logs and riverbanks. The Florida Whitetail Deer, Osceola Turkey, Florida Panther, and the Black Bear are some of the more prominent animals that can be found in the park. The Majestic Myakka River flows through 58 square miles of one of Florida's oldest and largest State Parks.

 

    The Myakka River, Florida’s first state-designated wild and scenic river, flows through a vast expanse of unspoiled wetlands, prairies, hammocks, and pinelands that make up the Myakka River State Park. Boating, fishing, canoeing, and kayaking are popular activities on the water while hikers and bicyclists explore miles of trails and backroads. Prior to 1850, the Myakka River was known as the Asternal River on English maps. A Seminole Indian reportedly told a surveyor in the 1850s that the name of the river was Myakka. The translation of the word Myakka is unknown.

    Between the 1850s and the 1930s, cattle grazed on the dry prairie, a vast land of grasses, forbs, palmetto, and other low shrubs with thousands of scattered wetlands. In 1910, Bertha Palmer, a progressive businesswoman from Chicago, came to Sarasota and bought a vast amount of land. A few years later, she purchased acreage farther inland than her initial real estate purchases and tried her hand at cattle and swine ranching. Meadow Sweet Pastures, as it was known, was located very near the Myakka River, where she introduced fencing and dip vats to Florida ranching. You can still visit the old foundations of the original house on Ranch House Road, located inside the park. Mrs. Palmer passed away in 1918.

    

    Shortly after, the Great Depression struck America, President Roosevelt signed into law the New Deal, a government program intended to boost the economy and spirit of the American population during those dark years. One program funded was the Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC). Over 17,000 acres of the Palmer estate were purchased by Florida to develop the Myakka River, State Park. Myakka is one of eight Florida State Parks developed by the CCC during the 1930s, and was formally dedicated in 1941, and was officially opened to the public. Many of the CCC structures built in Myakka are still used today, such as the visitor center, two picnic pavilions, five rental log cabins, roads, and trails.

    

    So it was the middle of March 06 while driving back to my camping trailer about mid-morning when I spotted something on the shore of the lake. March is low water time here, so the water line is quite a distance from the perimeter road that meanders around the southeastern part of the lake. I pulled over and got my binoculars to see what it was and to my amazement... it was a huge gator with a softshell turtle in its mouth. Not wanting to pass up this photo opportunity I quickly grabbed my wildlife camera setup and tripod and headed out the 300 yards to get closer to my subject. When I was about 100 yards away I set the tripod down just to observe the 10-12 foot gator with its prey. She was a big one for sure...the largest I have ever seen in the wild, and she was very busy tossing that turtle in the air and catching it to reposition it in her huge gaping mouth.

    I began moving forward very slowly, only a couple of feet at a time, as to not alarm this big girl, although she was very busy with her turtle. She would flip it up in the air and catch it and crunch her jaws trying to disassemble the turtle so she could eat it. It was much too big to take down in one gulp, even though her mouth was cavernous.

I eased up a couple of feet several times to where I was as close as needed to be with a 400 mm lens to capture very close-up images. I was about 20 yards, which was probably much too close. Gators can outrun a human in the first 30 feet or so and I didn't want to test that theory this day. I knew that her morning meal was more important to her at this moment than also testing that same theory. I was happily capturing image after image shooting burst mode when she would toss that turtle in the air when out of the corner of my eye I saw a red blur.

I looked over to see this woman dressed in a full-length red dress and dress shoes out in this mucky shoreline walking past me with her tiny digital camera stuck out as far as her arms would go. She was so intent at looking at the back of that little camera that I knew for sure she had no idea how close she was getting to this gator. I stepped forward a couple of steps in time to grab her arm and pull her back. I said to her to move very slowly and get behind me. When I asked her what in the hell were you thinking? she said in a very heavy British accent, I was only trying to get a close up of that gator. I have never seen one before. Well, I gave her a very quick one minute lesson about gators in general and about this one in particular. I told her that if that gator had wanted to run you down and eat you, that there would be no way in hell that you would be able to escape those jaws.

The look I received from her was about priceless but I knew she obviously did not know that she was in that much danger that morning and her husband should have thanked me for saving her British life. The woman turned around and quickly left and I'm sure that she told her husband about the very rude American gentleman down there with his camera just didn't want me to get my photo of that gator. I hope she did get a least a couple of photos just to tell the tale of this horrible photographer in the USA to all of her British friends back home.

    I continued to capture more images for a bit and decided to leave that big girl to her turtle and left. I have had many memorable moments in the 15 years or so in photographing and camping in this State Park. Camping offered me the ability of early morning shooting before the front gates opened up at 8 AM. I have conducted many photo tours here and hopefully gave sufficient enough instructions in photography to enable many other photographers the possibility of obtaining wonderful images of landscapes and wildlife that I have been blessed with over my time there.

Sixty Feet Down and Bammmm!

Well, folks, generally most of my adventure stories are mainly centered around photography, and this one is sort of… in a way. It started out with wanting to do some underwater photography, but Florida’s waters are no longer as clear as in the Bahamas. I have always wanted to go to Cozumel off the coast of northern Mexico. I have heard great things about water clarity there, especially that of Palencar Reef.

Dan Overhead Photographing

Palencar Reef is known as a drift dive and starts out in around 35 to 45 feet of water depending on where the boat drops you off. Drift diving is when the boat does not anchor up but follows the divers air bubbles staying over top of the group. Once everyone is underwater the group swims through the pillars of the coral reef and deep ravens to the outside of the reef where the drop-off ledge begins. The group of divers are accompanied by a divemaster at the head of the group followed by another divemaster at the back of the group. This allows for keeping tabs on where everyone is and no one is allowed to stray off into water deeper than the group dive of 75 to 80 feet along the wall of the reef. Here, the bottom drops away at a very steep slope well beyond what a normal dive would be on a single tank or compressed air.  Deep diving requires special certification and specialty equipment and exotic air mixtures and long lengthy decompression stop before arriving at the surface. There was an incident right before we arrived for our diving vacation. A diver decided to venture away from the group and dive down the slope looking for pink coral. The divemaster went after him and both were never seen again, and this was not an isolated case…it happens far too many times.

As the divemaster was explaining the rules that everyone must follow, my dive partner Dan and I approached him and said that we are very seasoned scuba divers and requested to hang back a bit from the group to let the water clarity settle down to be able to photograph.

  

Queen Angel

When using a flash unit for underwater photography, the intensity of the strobe will light up suspended particles and ruin your image. The divemaster reluctantly agreed knowing a bit about underwater photography but said that we had to keep the group insight and come up with at least 500 psi. of air in our tanks when we hit the surface. This means that you have to start up to the surface at 800 psi. Larger tanks hold about 3200 psi of compressed air and will last a novice about 20 to 25 minutes and a seasoned diver, maybe about 40 to 45 minutes. We agreed and threw most of our stuff overboard and put everything on while sitting on the white sandy bottom which is much easier than dealing with a narrow boat and 30 other people falling over each other. For the most part, you are diving with first-time scuba divers and or non-seasoned divers at best.

Royal Gramma

The first dive that morning went well we thought, except when we came up and got on the surface and started up the ladder to get in the boat the divemaster rushed over and immediately looked at my pressure gauge thinking he was going to catch us with less than 500 psi of air. He just shook his head in disbelief that I had over 800 psi and Dan had 600 or 700 psi. We came up using Dan’s tank pressure as a guide as I had more scuba diving experience than that of Dan. The divemaster told me that everyone had been back up, gear packed up, and they had been waiting for over 25 minutes for us to come up. I just reminded him of the word “Well Seasoned”. I know that the first group of novice divers probably were starting up at the 25-minute mark, followed by the second group about 5 minutes later. I don’t believe we stayed down for over an hour at that depth, but we very well could have.

Pink Sponge

I managed to get some nice images of Queen and French Angels and some other colorful fish and corals on the first dive. We then went to a beach for a grilled fish shore lunch and a little rest before the afternoon shallow dive of 50 to 55 feet.  I told that same divemaster the same story as before. I just said “Seasoned” and the head divemaster just shrugged his shoulders and kinda waved his arm. This time we waited until everyone else got into the water and then we went over the side. The bottom of the La Rosa Reef was OK. It has a much flatter sea bottom and nothing like the towering pillars of corals as that of Palencar Reef. However, the water was still gin clear. The group moved ahead of us and Dan and I moved along behind them. Dan’s camera was set up to shoot basically in macro mode. I set his camera up with a screw-on close-up lens filter with a short straight wire attached to the bottom of the camera housing. The distance was set for the correct focus of the camera’s lens and subject location. All he had to do was move the camera forward until that wire was just about to touch the subject. It was very effective and easy to use. Dan was not a photographer but he wanted to get some underwater photographs.

As we moved along the bottom Dan moved about 30 feet away and I found this really nice Pink soft sponge with some other small yellow sponge corals around it. It was out on the open bottom and nothing else around it and I thought that it would make a nice image. There was still quite a bit of current to deal with so I wrapped my legs around a coral head to anchor me to the bottom…I composed the sponge in the viewfinder and was just about the depress the camera's shutter when….BAMMM! my regulator blew out the second stage o-rings in the seat and now I had about 300 PSI of constant free-flowing air in my mouthpiece.

 

Dan Diving the Wall

Well, I knew I had plenty of air in the tank and since we had just gotten down on the bottom…so I made the shot. I  looked at my pressure gauge which was rapidly falling and quickly swam over to Dan. Dan’s eyes looked like dinner plates when he saw what I was going through. I motioned up and we went up to the surface. Our boat was not in sight but another boat was close by and so we swam over to it and explained what had happened. The captain motioned us aboard and called our boat to say we were aboard his boat due to a mishap. I had only been down maybe less than 10 minutes when the malfunction occurs and by the time Dan and I surfaced I had less than 500 psi left in my tank.

Now… I had just rebuilt my 2 dive regulators before leaving on this trip and now I’m down one regulator…not to worry?? On the second day, we repeated our departure from the boat the same as the day before….one deep dive and one shallower dive. On the second shallow dive of the day, I went over the side with the tank in my arms. I put the regulator in my mouth and swam down to put the tank and weight belt on once sitting on the bottom. I got my camera and was about to swim towards where Dan was waiting when this regulator kept free-flowing air but not at 300 PSI this time, but still a nuisance. It would stop and start free flow air and I was not going to trust it, so back up the both of us went. 2 days…2 dives and now 2 faulty regulators. So that night I took the best parts of each regulator and with some spare parts that I brought along I rebuilt another regulator, the last of the lot. Thankfully my repair work held up the rest of the trip with no more air issues. But there would be more issues. There always are.

Yellow Sponges

Somewhere around day 4 or 5 Dan and I decided to extend our stay to take the ferry-boat over to the mainland of Mexico and go visit the Mayan temple, Tulum on the ocean. The next morning we went to the airline office in town to extend an extra day and change the departure flight. Later that day we just did the afternoon dive. After getting back, I was in the shower with my cut off jeans on, which I ware when diving, I was washing my dive gear and felt this paper in my back pocket…it was our new plane tickets. I had just folder them up and put them in my back pocket earlier that morning. Since we had already dropped off our dive gear at the boat before exchanging the airline tickets there was no need to go to the hotel. We went to an early light lunch and then to the docks. Those tickets made that afternoon dive down to 60 feet. Well, that was a real hoot let me tell you, as the next morning I was in for a real treat.

I didn’t want to try and unfold the tickets for fear they would tear, so I placed them over the AC vent hoping they would dry out by the next morning. Back to the ticket agency we went the next morning and I asked the agent behind the counter if he spoke American…he kinda jesters and said NO!  I turned to Dan and said that’s just great how are we going to communicate and explain our dilemma to this man?. The man said…in perfect English…” I speak the Queens English Sir”. Talk about feeling a bit uncomfortable.

 

Jack Knife Fish

Well, I explained in my best “Southern Dixie Florida Cracker” draw about the slight mishap with our tickets that just had to go diving with us and took them out and handed them to him. They had dried up but I didn’t want to unfold them as I wanted this guy to do that in case he torn them…then he would have to then replace them. He said something like, “Good Lord”, just when I thought that I had seen everything….In the stiff British accent. He did manage to open them up and said that he could read everything and that there should be no problem at the airport.

The ferry boat trip over to the Mexican mainland went OK. So now, Dan is 6ft 4 and I am 5ft.9, and every Mayan Native that we encountered on this trip was about 4ft 2, so to say we had some strange looks was an understatement. Once across the pond, we boarded a bus to take us south down to the Mayan temple. Good roads in Mexico are nearly non-existent. When out in the backcountry they are dirt and are very narrow. Narrow is a very loose term here. So passing another vehicle was…well, harrowing at best. Let's just say our driver was well versed in using his bus horn.

 

Yellowhead Jawfish

We went past many little Mayan Indian villages and I would have loved to have been able to stop in and do some photography, but not to be…I was afraid to even ask. Once at the temple, I was totally blown away at the huge stone steps that go up near a 45-degree angle to the top of the temple. The vertical space between each step was about 2 ft. How in the hell those people got up and down them was beyond me. They must have had some kind of elevator around back somewhere. Hell, it wore me out and I’m relatively tall as compared to those little people. All of the small out-building structures had doorways that were less than 5 ft high and even I had to duck after smashing my forehead on the rock beam. Poor Dan nearly had to get down…I mean really “Get Down” to go in them.

This place was beautiful and it was hot in August…VERY HOT!!! I was carrying a camera bag with 2 camera bodies, 4 lenses, a large flash unit, and a host of other camera stuff. A photographer has to have “STUFF”. Well, I nearly had a heat stroke and had to sit down as my world was beginning to spin around. After some rest and a much-needed bottle of water, I wondered around looking for photo opts. The coastal pure white sandy beaches, crystal clear blue water, and the palm trees created the perfect backdrop for the temple, and, I had some great shooting. On our return bus trip, I could no longer see out the filthy windows and maybe that was a blessing. We made it back to the boat dock just in time to take us back to the island of Cozumel. That bus still had all of its fenders and bumpers intact, but I think the driver eventually broke the horn.

Damsel Fish

The rest of that trip went sort of well, except when it came time to board the plane. First off, I had a hard time convincing the idiot that kept wanting to x-ray my exposed film containers. I said no way, Jose! You will ruin all of my film. Trying to explain how x-rays will destroy the film was like trying to teach him trigonometry. Finally, one of the other agents came over and said to let me through. All the while this film thing was going on, Dan was trying to get our boarding passes taken care of. It seems as though, always the case, that Dan’s ticket was more legible and mine was not. They were not going to let me board the plane. “Good Grief Charlie Brown”, what the hell else can go wrong with his trip? I had no more money left after buying that authentic Mexican handwoven blanket for my wife that I knew was made in Hong Kong. Dan had some money, so between the two of us, we had enough for a new ticket…..BUT!! The plane was nearly boarded and wanting to leave. What a race that was. Just got the new ticket as they were trying to close the door to the plane……They were actually going to leave me there !!!! But Dan being 6ft4 and standing in the doorway…that plane was not going anywhere without me.

Yellowhead Jawfish

As photography goes...it seems that the camera gods like to play games with me on my photo adventures. This kinda reminds me of one of the Grand Cayman trips for underwater photography a few years ago, someone said let's get some orchids to take back home. Ole Mikie said Hell Yas !!! I offered to climb the trees to cut down the orchids while being hungover from drinking way too many Seaview Specials, a multi-colored, multi-flavored rum drink, which is poured into the glass in layers, from the night before. That little tree climbing adventure netted me a very bad case of poisonwood, similar to poison ivy but much worse. By the time I got back home stateside, I already had a case of severe arm rash.

Needless to say, I don’t drink on these adventure trips, I don’t climb trees and I don’t go scuba diving with my airplane tickets in my back pockets, but I’m sure something else will come up that will be just as amusing.