Dive Another Day

A cautionary tale

June, 2012. The Florida Keys— We should have recognized the warning signs from the start. The wind was blowing pretty strong, even by Florida Keys standards, and it was mid-afternoon by the time we crossed the last bridge of the Overseas Highway to alight on Key West. The sun was sinking and some creamy clouds had turned it into one of those moody, milky coastal skies that make you wonder if a storm could blow up at any moment. Still, we went ahead with it. Call it diffusion of responsibility, call it “shipwreck fever,” there was no going back. In retrospect, we should have turned around and opted for a lazy afternoon of rum drinks instead.

Things only got more ominous when we arrived at the marina to find a rather small boat, the Bonsai, barely big enough for the five of us, and only the owner, Peter, who was hurriedly loading gear and casting off lines as we hopped aboard with our kit. It is a cardinal sin to go diving in open water, leaving your boat unattended on the surface. But Peter reassured us that it would be fine; we had to hurry since it was rather late in the day. This was our last day in the Keys, and our last chance to dive the shipwreck, the Hoyt S. Vandenberg, a 522-foot long former navy vessel that had also been a movie set, then intentionally sunk in over 100 feet of water to serve as a dive site and artificial reef.

We were a mixed bunch of divers with varying experience. Though I hadn’t been diving as long as a couple other guys, I probably had more in my logbook. We motored out past the breakwater and I felt the wind and the big swells right away. Tropical Storm Debby had passed by only days earlier. The little boat plowed up and over, with spray soaking us as we struggled to suit up. I remember feeling uneasy about the whole thing even then. Peter shouted to us unintelligibly over the din of the motor and the wind. We all looked warily at each other, probably thinking the same thing. Who would speak up and pull the plug? None of us did.