Why do you dive?

Often people will ask, "What is there to see down there?" or "That looks like a lot of work, is it really worth it?"

After a year and a half, it's still worth it just for the amazing thrill of breathing under water. Even if a dive is barren and boring, the simple act itself makes it worthwhile. I've spoken to divers with thousands of dives who say the same thing. I hope that feeling never abates.

But there are miracles even larger and more stunning to be seen. Divers in the PNW marvel at the Giant Pacific Octopus; we love to find them, and consider it a great dive even if all we see is a few suckers on the curve of a tentacle inside a cubby hole under a boat. "We saw an octo!" is the cry of the triumphant aquatic warrior.

Scot reminds us, as once again octos start sitting with eggs, with this repost of a video by Seeing In Green that shows the amazing hatching of thousands of baby GPOs. It is stunning and bittersweet; the mother octo, at just a few years old, will lay her eggs, and from that point on stay with them for 3-4 months to arrange them, protect them, and flush water over them. She doesn't eat, and over the time she watches them, she weakens, turning from the familiar deep red to a pink and then ashen gray. After they hatch, she dies.  Her work gives birth to thousands of little babies, and out of that batch perhaps 3-4 will live to maturity (that's what I've read, anyway).

Diving always centers me in a way nothing else can, and fills me with a perspective on the world that I just can't find elsewhere.



This video also shows one of my favorite dive sites, Alki Cove 2, with the Seattle cityscape in the background. I love Cove 2!

An eight legged friend.

Pretty much the same video as Justin's. But... it's mine. A partial answer to the question of, "What can you see down there?" This area is a sunken boat and tire reef (tires make great places for life to live and grow) that hosts a number of critters, including this big guy. There's an older mate living in the same area; we saw some pink/grey tentacles hiding.


Giant Pacific Octopus at Mike's Beach May 2011 from Amy Young-Leith on Vimeo.

Sund Rock, Mike's Beach and Flagpole

Sund Rock, Mike's Beach and Flagpole, a set on Flickr.

Spent the weekend up in Hood Canal and got in eight great dives, including two night dives. We visited Sund Rock on Friday, stayed at and dove Mike's Beach on Saturday, started Sunday morning with Flagpole and then back to Mike's Beach. Some nice long ones with lots of bottom time, too. Nice and slow, allowing me to improve my critter finding abilities. Found some good ones!

The first night dive, with an amazing display of bioluminescence as we descended down the line followed by a very long visit with a large roaming GPO ranks as... I'll say one of my favorite dives ever. And we basically did a repeat the next night. Awesome. More types of gunnels than I can count, sailfin sculpin, a BIG grunt sculpin, some unknown funky things... can't even recount it all. The perma-smile this weekend generated will last all week, for sure. 

I was finally able to elucidate why I enjoy cold water diving so much... it's more of a challenge, so the rewards seem more substantial. Strangely, I came home and shared this with Scot (who thinks I'm crazy when I say in the middle of a tropical dive trip that I miss my cold home waters), and he had a similar discussion with someone at Blue Element Scuba and Adventure Center today.

A weekend where the focus is dive, eat, sleep, repeat is great. There's a rhythm that develops, and a fun, summer-camp like pleasure in dropping all pretense about what your hair looks like. The funk that develops in your drysuit is like a badge of honor; you worked hard for that! Saturday afternoon was filled with a lovely nap-a-thon. Lots of laughter, socializing with other divers and shops. Good times.

Enjoyed helping with some training, continuing to get into a grove with new buddies, visited some new sites, and learned a lot along the way.

Now it's off to bed to cuddle with Scot and page through Andy Lamb's big picture book so I can ID the things I really saw for the first time this weekend! So much has always been there, probably, but I'm just now SEEING it.

EDIT: No Andy Lamb book -- my copy is at the shop! Argh!

Water, water, everywhere.

Knowing the end of 2010 would be crazy busy, I let go my hopes of having one good diving weekend up in Seattle per month. Time was flying. After the Channel Islands trip was just one trip up north, then one day of diving in the Keys in December. I was doing well suppressing my usual enthusiasm, sublimating it with work on three fronts.

All was going well until playing around in the pool, followed by a hellish day assisting with a rescue class at Whalen Island. When a day of diving in the mud holes in the most horrendous Oregon coast winter weather thrills you -- that's a sign your ass needs to get into some real water.

With the big push to the launch of Blue Element Scuba and Adventure Center completed, I rather randomly selected January 28 as a day to hit the water, leaving it to the universe to let the rest fall into place. Most of my usual suspects were busy that Friday, but as usual the universe provides and I found myself with a fresh new dive buddy and two days of diving up north in the plans.

Excellent dives at Cove 2; called it after 55 minutes in 45 degree water because the feet were freezing. Time to investigate some thicker wool socks. I finally graduated from the thin gloves I've used to some true cold water gloves; they didn't fit well but did keep the hands warm. The lack of dexterity bugs me, but... whatchagonnado? Aside from one instance where I couldn't figure out why my inflator was stuck--it was because I was still pressing it--they are an improvement. Took some photos.  Saw an octo right after we dropped, and many, many nudis.

Viz went to crap during the 2nd dive, but it was fun nonetheless.

Hung with Chris and Christy Friday night -- always a pleasure and a treat, and then headed to Redondo Saturday. We got up late, hung out with Christy for too long, and as a result got to the dive site a little later than planned. We did just one dive, going deep to the boat first and then heading north to run into the other sites, eventually making our way to the bug. Lots of sculpin, some nudis, and mostly big fun overall.

The fix has been applied. My soul is sated, for just a bit.

A videographer I am not.

Here's a sample of what the conditions were like in the Channel Islands. While wanting to illustrate how moving the surge was, it dawned on me that my Lumix does video. So I shot a little one. It fails to illustrate what I really wanted to capture: the eel grass flowing over the bottom, extending a full 4-5 feet in one direction, then all the way back to 4-5 feet in the other direction. It was a beautiful, billowing vision, and moved you back and forth quite a bit. My apologies to Stephen for posting what one might think is just a long study of his behind. I swear, it's not. Not really. Not totally, anyway. I mean, no, not at all.

Diving in Sea Monkeys.

My first set of pictures worth looking at!

A muse of creative energy hit me Friday night, keeping me up until 1:30am. That would have been fine, but the alarm went off at 4:45a, because I had to leave at 5:30a to pick up Jonathan in Gresham and head to Sund Rock where a group of our underwater friends were diving. (Most made a weekend of it staying Fri and Sat night.)

This would be my first time in Hood Canal! Didn't do open water there, and had never been to any of those sites in all the trips I've been making up north.

The ride up seemed quick; fueled by stops for food and caffeine we shared samplings of our musical tastes. My mood soared thanks to the remaining creative buzz--and I was headed toward a date with Poseidon! (It had been a whole 13 days since I'd been in the water.)

A quick stop and some gab at Hood Sport 'n' Dive, we had our pass and we squeezed the Beetle into a spot in the small lot at Sund Rock. Friends were in various stages of dress and undress as they prepped to go in. Smiles, waves and hugs ensued.

We got into the water; I promptly tripped over a rock and ended up flat on my back. Christopher was kicking back in the water and came to my aid. The water was oddly warm, some 62 degrees!

I'll be honest, we missed the North Wall. (Yeah, I now know: descend the buoy to the base, and go north. Boom, you hit the wall. Duh.) But just like wrong turns sometime create the best road trips, so was the case here. We went deepish (90 fsw) through two thermoclines, taking the temp down to about 50. The last was at around 65 fsw and right below it was some nice clear vis... but it was very dark, which is cool in its own right.

Sea whips are amazing, and very striking with nothing else around as they gracefully stretch up with their frilled edges. We glided over the ropes and cables (some amazing groupings of life on those)! At this point I hadn't taken any photos, I was keeping up with Zoomie McZoomZoom. ;-) We found ourselves looking at a very liberal sprinkling of thumb sized nudibranchs, translucent with white tips against the dark green and red seaweed. I was trying to get positioned for a photo when J starts tugging at my arm. I'm thinking, "Leave me the heck alone, I'm busy here!" but then I look and just to the side of what I'm focused on is a nudibranch larger than any I've ever seen! Large and frilly with white tips, I'm shocked to see another one just a few feet away... and then ANOTHER one. And... another one, but this time brown and orange tips. And... another one! And... a PILE of them, about 5 of them! For a moment I thought they were dead but no... they were doing quite the opposite of death, it seems.

(Insert porn music here.)

We were above a very large field FILLED with these awesome large, colorful nudis. Consulting my book... Giant Dendronotids? Wow!

After poking around for a while longer, J signaled his pressure reading meant the ride was over, and we headed toward a leisurely safety stop and then surfaced near the south wall exit. My tank was still sporting almost half its contents. (It amazes me how much my air consumption has gone down since Maui.)

Not the dive we planned, but I wouldn't have wanted it any other way!

After a nice relaxing (and warming) surface interval, we headed back into the water w/ Stephen. To the buoy and down to the base, head due north and TADA, the north wall! We poked and crawled along, and I totally lost myself taking photos. S gave some excellent technique advice (the most complicated communication I've ever had underwater, and I learned not only something about photography but also about communicating underwater).

We poked around slowly. Looked in a few holes, crevasses and under ledges but saw none of the big players--which oddly enough is fine; it's the little guys that I love!

During the si, Dan had commented on the thick layer of krill that was affecting light at depth. He wasn't kidding; we went through a large band of Sea Monkeys, the water almost murky with them!

At some point J peeled off from us due to air, and S and I continued to slowly poke around the wall, then up and over into the fishbowl. I could have stayed there for one whole hour long dive thanks to the wonderful lighting and great array of stuff to see.

Once out of the water, the parking lot was emptying and we had a very leisurely time stripping off and packing our gear, chatting with Hilo and basking in the sun.

Good times.

I was conflicted; on the one hand I really wanted to socialize with everyone (they were having a pot luck) but having to drive home meant if I did it would be another very late night and on three hours of sleep that didn't seem wise. So J and I headed on down the road, stopping briefly at Hoodsport Winery for a taste. The cabinet behind the wall was filled with medals; I noticed most were from the Indiana State Fair and other related contests! I see why -- by far their best production was their raspberry, a rich and fragrant sweet wine. (I loved the sweets from Oliver Winery when we lived there.)

Then it was on to the casino where multiple plates of crab met their end at our table. Before leaving, a video slot called Kitty Glitter turned my $20 into $70, and I called it quits right there. That pretty much paid for my dive weekend.

Thanks, universe! Already planning for next weekend; we're helping some friends find their comfort in the water Saturday (somewhere boring like Dash Point) and then something like Alki on Sunday.

Has great visibility returned to the Puget Sound?

P1010231
Originally uploaded by lavachickie

Saturday we walked into A2Z Scuba and were welcomed by Amy and Tom with hugs and a shout of, "Viz is GREAT this weekend!" Music to my ears, for while I enjoy my cold water diving, I have to admit that the pea soup was getting me down.

Our trip up had been leisurely; we were weekending with a new diving friend. Three hours together in a metal box can be trying on any relationship, and it's often telling of those in their nascent stages. And a whole two days... By the time we got home at 12:30am Monday morning, however, it was clear we'll be traveling together again.

We were slow, but that was all part of the plan. We were in search of water, and enjoying the company in the meantime. After hanging at Amy's for a bit and picking up miscellany such as a reel, changing a computer battery, buying some weights to round out the set, etc. we headed to Les Davis.

Parking a crew cab longbed pickup in that lot is... a challenge. Luckily, there was a diving instructor at the end with a big truck and he and crew had just gotten out of the water. We waited patiently for about ten minutes and he gave us his spot. We love you, man.

Beautiful clarity at the entry. This made poking through the eel grass really fun, lots of great little critters to see. At my favorite spots amongst the slabs, around 65 ft, it murked up a bit, but was still good compared to the last times I'd been there. I noticed the plumose seemed to be less packed in; the areas that used to be covered were more sparse. Lots of fish. A few small nudies. The usual suspects.

And jellies. LOTS of jellies.

My systems were going well; I'd spent a ridiculous amount of time making sure my seals were *perfect*. At the end, I was damp. Not all over, and not soaked. Just the upper left quadrant was damp. (Chatting with Norm a few days later he pointed out the valve could be sucking water if I keep the suit too lean. That may in fact be the problem because I can't find anything else. Next time...)

Air consumption continues to improve. Since Maui I've pretty much always come up with more air than those I'm diving with. Sweet. Admittedly, they are air hogs, but...

We only did one dive there due to time; we were considering a night dive that evening and two dives the next day; this meant we had to scoot back to Amy's for fills, then get some dinner, clean up and head out to see a friend and his band play at 9pm, and maybe see the water again at 11pm.

At dinner I enjoyed an AMF, ordered by my friend to calm my attitude, because I was sporting one. And boy, did it fit the bill. Yummmmmy! And one of those on an empty stomach after diving had me smiling and giggly and... two would have been bad, bad news.

By the time all that was done and the choice was night dive or head back to the hotel to sleep the answer was clear; we were falling asleep where we stood, so no night dive.

We're so lame.

The next morning we got up and enjoyed a hearty breakfast at Black Bear Diner. I'd gotten a great deal at the Best Western in Federal Way; it was leagues above the other cheapies we've stayed at there and I'd so do it again in a heartbeat.

It was late morning and we had no trouble finding parking at Alki. That was my first time there and I LOVE IT. Easy access, great view of Seattle across the water, multiple dive sites right there... I see why this is so popular. Can't wait to dive it at night, too. Looking down at the entry, it was crystal clear. Went to about 65 following our friend who was taking macro shots I love following a photographer because they go slow, and that gives me time to poke around for critters which is what I'm down there to do!. Created some inventive underwater hand signals at the boat. (How do you say, "There's a gunnel right inside the lip of the boat in front of you and across from me?")

I hung out with a goby for a long time... they are SO cute for some reason.

Two great dives at this site. Can't wait to go back.

I shucked four pounds of weight from my gear, and had no troubles at all. The last dive was perhaps one of the best dives I've ever had in cold water speaking of comfort and ability. I admit I switched from the drysuit to the BC for buoyancy; there's just something amiss with the suit. I'm going to try to tinker with the valve setting next time but I have to admit I like the feel of keeping the suit slim and just using the BC. (I started using the drysuit using the BC, then switched to using the suit after reading that's how you're "supposed" to do it but in the interim have found about a 50/50 distribution of who does what, so I went back for a try.)

I've gotten seven dives in since I had The Bad Dive with Amy at Les Davis. The drysuit failure was fixed after that dive, and I've not had any feelings of anxiety like I did there (comfortable enough that I chose to dive solo at Whalen Island a few of those times, too). Whatever it was, it passed. Bizarre.

Patches... we don't need no stinkin' patches.

Scot and I have always been avid collectors of stickers and what nots from our travels. Our cooler (which we have had since we were in college... I think I was actually in HIGH SCHOOL when we bought it) has sported over the years a number of stickers. Now with dive travels, it's patches.

I was a bit worried about defacing a $250 bag, but I wanted to make the spider bag of the Dive Caddy into our new billboard for Cool Places We've Been(TM). Chad at Dive Caddy assured he they'd done the same thing; a light iron on a fusible web to hold it in place before stitching would do the trick.

The iron on synthetic wasn't enough heat; moved it up to "silk" and it worked well. Always beware ironing on unknown fibers. A quick stitch around the edge and... voila.

You don't just get a passion, you get another family, too.

I haven't written much here about diving other than the cool thrilling stuff. While chatting about the more mundane with a friend, they encouraged me to post more about my discoveries. While I am always looking up and not wanting to sound like a n00b idiot to those I aspire to, she pointed out that others, like herself, may be encouraged to take the step over the threshold by seeing my experience. Well alright, then!

One excellent benefit from scuba diving (aside from the thrilling sense of adventure, the most excellent exercise, the wonderful things you see and the incredible sense of calm centering it brings) is the people you meet. It's a family, similar to motorcycling or other group activities. But... deeper. No pun intended.

You have to earn it but the initial threshold is low: show up and try. From day one in class you drop pretension and make a connection with your partners and classmates that can quickly grow. My first group trip to Cozumel in January was an interesting sociological experiment. Most of the people on the group trip were unknown to me. There are a few specific points initially where my usual social outgoing nature was rebuffed (similar to other situations where being a fat, 30something woman clearly isn't the "in" thing). But those very same people, after they saw me exit the water in full gear and a big-ass grin on my face, suddenly smiled at me and proactively connected with me at the water's edge, in the hallways, in the dining hall. I'd earned my spot as a diver, one of them.

It means you have something instantly to talk about together; there's never a dull scuba conversation! But it's something beyond that. Something unique you share together that others just can't understand.

The environment fosters quick, deep connections. When in training and as a new certified diver, you rely so much on the people you dive with for all manner of things. You'll expose yourself to them in many ways--both physical and mental. Just get over it: your seawater soaked hair will look like a rat died in it when you pull off your hood, and at some point you're going to have to push breasts one way while someone else pulls a zipper the other way. (Or vice versa; what are good friends for if they can't get up in your junk?) For added glamour and glory, exiting the water is almost always accompanied by a belch that rivals Booger and Ogre in Revenge of the Nerds*, and if you are lucky you won't have a huge glob of snot on your face when you remove your mask.

That's if you are lucky.

Of course, scuba is a cross section of the population and has its fair share of malcontents, whiners, whackos and assholes both male and female. In life in general I tend to rush in with a big smile on my face, my arms waving in the air and yelling, "Weeeee!" until I step in some shit, and this new family is no different, I'm sure, but I endeavor to avoid drama, as always. Thanks to the net you can meet divers all over; I've got a list of dive date offers with people in the Puget Sound that could keep me busy for months.

Now for the reality check. Diving is still a male dominated activity. Women are coming on board like never before, and women diving buddies seem to bond pretty quickly. As a woman, though, you have to be careful; your initial choices and actions in a group will form a first impression that can be hard to change or overcome. This is especially true if you are young and/or attractive. As a big girl, I've often become "one of the guys" and this saves me from that judgement (but also robs me of the attention which can sometimes be a benefit).

There are some men in the sport who will have sexist attitudes about your abilities, potential or place. (What's worse sometimes are the men that think they don't have those... but do.) If you run into those, smile politely and go elsewhere, they aren't worth your time and there are SO many other wonderful people to connect with and support who will do the same for you.

And, as always... trust your instincts.

I have many dives and hours to go before I can even consider myself a okay diver. But the initial butterfly thrill is wearing off and maturing into something much more... powerful. I'm becoming drawn to technical issues, and my mind does NOT work that way, and usually I'm more than happy to throw the curtain over all that stuff and let someone else handle it. The fact that I'm dying to take apart my regulator just to see what's inside (yeah, I've seen the drawings, but that's different) is a new feeling for me. It feels kinda funny.

This is interesting, indeed. The ride is just beginning.

* Why? With a reg in your mouth you don't swallow often, but when you do you're getting a nip of air compressed to the depth you are at. I tend to swallow more at depth because by then my mouth is getting dry. Compressed air in the stomach grows as you ascend,  and results in belchorama.

Love Redondo and Les Davis!

This caffeine lover is hard pressed to admit it, but a new rule of NO CAFFEINE ON DIVE DAY is a good one. Or, in the very least, not a lot of caffeine. Our last trip to Redondo got off to a rocky start thanks to my jitters, fueled by having a large Dutch Mocha w/ an extra shot AND a 32 ounce Mountain Dew during the 3 hour trip up. 


No such malady this time, although there's always something, isn't there? The end of a cold was hanging on, but I trusted in the Sudafed. The first descent at Redondo at a low tide amused me with lots of squishy noises in my sinuses, until at 25 fsw I felt a sudden stab of brain pain that seriously had me worried I'd suffered some catastrophic event like a brain aneurism, or a stroke. (We now have a new hand signal for "brain aneurism.") Pain so intense it made me nauseous! It quickly resolved and I realized it must've simply been a sinus issue. I sent Scot and Dana on down for the deep dive; I promised to stay near the pier, in sight of the pillars (which in the poor vis wasn't very far). 


After careful consideration I took a few spins around the base of the pier, down to 35 fsw with no equalization problems. Some will crucify me for a decision to solo dive. My evaluation went like this: simple, well known area; shallow depth; no current issues; no fishing line/entanglement possibilities; even with total equipment failure I could CESA to the surface. Yes, if something rendered me unconscious I'd be in trouble, but I drive a car daily with that same possibility at hand. I'm pretty conservative, and it felt right. It was gloriously relaxing (no one to worry about but me) and was a good exercise in both decision making and execution. Would I make THAT same decision again? Yes. Will I think even more carefully about such issues in the future? Yes. Is there solo dive training and a secondary air source in my future? You betcha. 

No one needs to worry; I'm not about to go striking off on dive trips all by myself without telling anyone, or looking to break my personal depth records by myself at a new dive site. I'm just saying that until recently I thought the idea of solo diving was just batshit crazy. But after realizing that if you're in bad vis with a parter who isn't paying attention... you might as well be on your own. (Not that I've had that happen, but I've heard of others.) So if you might find yourself on your own anyway... why not be prepared for it? It has its place, I now know. One of the best divers in our group solos, too, which has likely impacted my view.


On the second dive it was just Scot and I; I had no ear/sinus issues and we were to 65 fsw. We worked on navigation skills, failed at our specific task due to the poor vis (we found everything BUT what we were in search of, and surely passed within feet of it) but found one another in the murk when lost (knowing the bearing we were on and using flashlights to break through it brought us back together). We're equal air hogs so we hit 750 at the same time, had a very smooth safety stop (it's surprisingly hard to hold your position in the water column at 15 feet in a lot of exposure gear as you have to dump air at just the right amount as you come up to remain neutral), and a little surface swim back. 


We were tired, looked like shit, it was raining, we were damp through and through... and we were happy as could be. 


Up early the next day to be at Les Davis at 8:30... ugh! But we geared up, had a blast talking with friends, and bemoaning the thick heavy fog. We dove there to 65 feet, and I was doing well using the drysuit only for buoyancy control (I'd learned the bad habit of using the BCD). Vis was really poor, and a current kicked up a bit, and the metal in the concrete that was sunk to make the artificial reef made compass use impossible. We were quite far from the steps when we surfaced, and had a nice long surface swim back. The joy was that by the time we came up, the fog had burned off and we enjoyed wonderful views of the Olympics, blue sky and warm sun! 


We hung around for quite some time, then all decided to pack it in instead of do a 2nd dive due to the poor vis. We spent time talking with our many friends, made new ones, and learned a lot from all.

So many lessons learned on each trip; on this one from how much easier it is to pack with a checklist to what to do if Mother Nature deals you a crappy hand on dive day. My pawn moved a few more steps down the road to being a great diver. 


Dana deserves a shout out; she's a great travel buddy and a considerate dive partner. I'm happy that she feels the same about me (and Scot, too). Later that night as Scot and I were debriefing, he said, "I enjoy diving with you; you're good and getting better." That made me smile.  

Maui is coming up in just a little over two weeks. While I do really enjoy cold water diving, I can't wait for less gear, better vis and more color!

Lessons learned at Redondo.

At 6am Scot, Dana and I loaded up The Great Blue Whale (Scot's truck) and headed to Redondo Beach on the Poverty Bay of Federal Way, WA. Thanks to good company, the 3 hour drive up went by like a flash (despite stops for coffee and breakfast). Standing in the parking lot on a bright sunny day with not a single cloud in the sky, the water was rimmed in the distance by the snow capped mountains. The view topside alone made the trip worth it. But we had the real adventure still to come.

DIY scuba weights. Sorta.

Everyone's gotta have weights to dive, and fluffy girls need more than usual. So the appeal of paying $3-4 per lb retail for lycra bags filled with lead didn't appeal. (Some good deals on ebay for around $2/lb, but then you have to ship it.)

Buy lead shot. Use XS Scuba Fillable Weight Pouches. Voila. The only issue is that last year you might have been able to make your weights for about half of retail. This year... maybe a 25% savings due to the increase in the price of lead shot (see last year's ammo hullaballu for the reason why).

So let's get started. It's easy!

1. Buy weight pouches from your friendly local dive shop. (That's a relationship where the more you buy, the more you save, so get to know your guys and feed them well, with goodies and money.) 
2. Buy shot. Bi-Mart had some leftover #9 going for $26 for a 25 lb bag. The rest is now selling for $39.95. OUCH.
3. Grab a scale (used our kitchen/food scale), a square container, a scoop. And a large tub style container to contain it all JUST IN CASE you spill it. You don't want this stuff on the floor, or we're talking cartoon slip-and-fall kinda stuff. You'll be finding little metal balls in corners for years to come. 
4. Carefully weigh using a corner of the container as the pour spout, fill slowly, close Velcro carefully. (Do this ALL inside your tub just in case you spill.)

There is velcro on the inside and AGAIN a flap with velcro on the outside, the results are SOLID.

You could save even more by getting some suitable fabric and sewing bags yourself, skipping the velcro and just sewing the bags shut. But if you consider the time to source, cut and sew... the pre-made pouches are a good value.

I have some leftover so now I'm seeking creative art projects using little bitty balls of lead...

EDIT: And don't forget... this is LEAD. Do not eat it. Do not go out of your way to breathe it in deeply. Thoroughly wash all items that came into contact with it. Keep it away from children, it isn't a toy. Yadda yadda yadda. MSDS right here. 

Another great dive today, but also a good lesson.

The boat dives start with a deep dive, then a second shallower dive that allows more bottom time. By nature, the first will be more difficult, the second easier. As Gueyser explained our first stop at Santa Rosa, I read my guide book which described it as an "intermediate" difficulty, and Gueyser said the currents were stronger today. So, I made the decision to sit the dive out.

On the one hand, that was really, really, really hard to do, with him saying how this was one of the best dives in Cozumel. I mean... I was jonesing to get wet!