With October upon us, we are moving quickly towards the shoulder season of diving. We’re hosting one of our after-work dives tonight, a very popular event that usually attracts a big crowd. But as summer cools into fall, the crowd showing up for these events start to dwindle. Some people are not interested in diving in colder water; some do not have the proper insulation gear for it; some lack the training and equipment for night diving, necessary when dusk comes on ever earlier.
Most of the dive shops in the area stop their dive activity around this time, opting for indoor pool sessions, such as Discover Scuba courses and Rescue Diver tuneups. But we dive year-round. In the coldest months it may be just instructors and guides, without guests, but at least we get wet and keep our skills tuned up. But there are other reasons for it. There’s something special about cold-water diving that warm water lacks. And seeing the change of season in my local waters is akin to to seeing the leaves changes color, from summer to autumn.
The shoulder season is, to some extent, the most dramatic. The kelp forests along the shores start to rot, making them stand, disheveled, like the trees of a ghostly forest from a storybook. As they decompose, they release a milky white substance into the surrounding water, which hovers like mist.
I’m diving with a couple of new divers tonight, and I can hear them suck in air quickly as the cold water seeps through their wetsuits and onto their skin. Their suits are plenty thick, but the first rush of water does feel chilling. I’m wearing a drysuit, with a few layers of undergarments. I don’t like being cold, which seems a contradictory admission as I talk about the pleasure of cold-water diving.
We head in. The visibility is fair, hampered a bit by the milky white fog, but great along the bottom. We don’t go very deep, to stay above the thermocline. The really big fish — cod, salmon, bass — haven’t come this close to shore yet. They’ll appear as the water cools down, but for now there’s plenty to see, such as hefty soft-shell crabs and loads of starfish.
As we turn around and head towards shore, the light has faded a lot. Dusk comes earlier in water than on the surface, and we’re right on the verge of needing dive torches. I make a mental note to bring one next time I head out.
As we exit the water we get to the really cold part: getting out of our suits. My drysuit really shows its worth here, as I can just peel it off and add a few extra layers to keep warm. But the other divers have to strip down to their swimwear before they can put on warmer clothes. I break out the coffee and tea to help people warm up. People gather around the tailgate of one of the dive trucks, hugging mugs of coffee as they talk about the dive. By the time we head home, dusk has turned to full-on darkness. The winter dive season is upon us for sure.
