Back to the Florida Caves: Part I

Mike left the line and swam over to peer down a rabbit hole in the rock. I swam over beside him and poked my head in his line of sight, looking down into there myself. We were on our way out of Madison Blue. It had been a great dive following along the mainline, just relaxing, not going anywhere in particular, like tourists wandering the city on the night before they return home, catching some sights and relaxing a bit before the long ride home and back to work. I was feeling a bit frisky, wanting some fun. So I poked my head in front of Mike and acted as if I was gong to wiggle my way into the hole in the rock, then backed out and smiled at him.

Sometimes I glide along in these caves single file, following the rules and other times I crave some violation. I want to swim high and look where crevices come together, see how much it takes to get stuck between a rock and a hard place. And how much it takes to get unstuck. I want to get low, inches from the mucky muddy silty bottom just to see if I can hold myself inches from leaving marks, digging lines, scraping buckle. I want to scoot off this way and that, hide behind a rock to see how long it takes Mike to know I'm gone, maybe go around a different way, come out in front of him and pretend I'm someone else heading solo into the cave. But I don't do these things usually. Sometimes I can't resist. It's odd how some caves seem to invite playfulness and other caves demand seriousness. Maybe it's the dive, not the cave.

We'd come to Florida to cave dive. It just happened to be the same weekend as the NSS-CDS first annual fall dive-in, but we didn't attend. We looked into it, and in retrospect maybe should have gone. But it was a set price for all the days, at least it seemed like they wanted only those who could spend a lot of time there. The drive from Tennessee is long enough, and our weekend short enough, that we wanted to spend all our time diving, not socializing, so we opted out of the fall dive-in. And I must admit I am a bit anti-social. Give me the choice between one or two buds and a roomful of conversation and I'll take the "less is more" option every time. A full day of cave dives, followed by a quiet camp, a small meal from the grill, a few beers, a bit of video on dvd, a warm bed, and I'm there.

We drove down Thanksgiving day, and had our turkey at Cracker Barrel, along with about a gazillion other crackers. We arrived at River Rendezvous and set up camp.

The next morning, Rennaker's filled our tanks, we met up with FW, and dove Peacock III. Mike and I had never been there before and to have FW take us in was like the best possible guide service. Thanks, Forrest. I hope we get to do it again. The viz was better than usual, but not having dove it before, and being used to 5-10 feet in Tennessee caves, I thought it was great viz, I could see everything, everywhere. We tried a jump that went nowhere, the line in there is a bit…, how shall I say? Broken? So we turned back and proceeded to follow the mainline to Henley's Castle. We took in the room, and cast our lights down to the line disappearing into the void below us, but did not follow it. FW gave the thumbs up, after a few minutes of sight-seeing, and we turned the dive.

Mike and I dove again that afternoon, into Peacock I, following the peanut route. FW went down south to the CDS fall dive in. Our last trip to Florida, Mike and I dove the peanut tunnel in Peacock and left a cookie at our max penetration. So this dive we went back to find it. I love this route. My favorite cave dives are in narrow rocky passages. I like the closeness. I like the solidness. I like squeezing through and can someday see myself pushing a tank ahead of me in a no mount passage. I've been stuck before, wiggled out, and like the feel of wet rock all around me. Now what about mud tunnels…?

Well what can I say except it's better than sex. Call it Freudian if you must, but those tight dark wet slippery worm-holes are the best. I don't mean to disparage those large clear passages that extend upward and outward allowing an army of divers to pass en masse; they are fun too, and I'd love to dive more of those, but there is something special about the intimacy of the wiggle holes.

As we came up to the cookie we left the last time, Mike, in the lead, turned to me and began dancing the victory dance. Woo-Hoo! We found our cookie! I removed it and we proceeded on, not yet at thirds. We swam to the end of the gold line, tied to a rock. Across a gap of 5 feet, maybe 10, was the other side leading to Challenge. We were close to thirds, had gone further than ever, so decided not to push it. We turned the dive.

The glide back was magnificent. The low flow pushed us slowly home and relaxed me like a lullaby. The smooth motion and gentle ups and downs, unders and overs, were like a mother's heartbeat. Then we rose and the tunnel narrowed and became rocky. I scampered up the wall ahead and crawled through the rock worm-hole. Mike followed closely as I drifted off into the memory of intro class when we had drills here - lights out and out of air…one time the cave gremlins rolled my valve off.

The view forward opened up and we were soon back into the cavern zone, retrieving the reel, and doing the safety stop. I looked around through the clear almost blue water and smiled with satisfaction. What a nice day of diving.