Key Largo, FL Dive trip, Part two: Survival of the Wettest

Before the fall.

Key Largo, FL  Dive trip, Part two

Author's recap:  Andrew, Ben and I are in the Florida Keys for scuba diving and parasailing.   We arrived in Key largo Thursday night.  We did our scuba diving on Key Largo much of the day on Friday.  On Sat. we hired a boat for parasailing.  Then we drove an hour to get back to Key West for the last part of the trip.  Enjoy your read.

Andrew, Ben and I had our first dive on Friday morning.  We were on a flat, open pontoon boat, floating above one of the thousands of reefs that make up the chain of islands (Keys) known as the Gilligan’s, which sweep westward from the tip of the Florida peninsula.  Ginger, Skipper, the Professor, and Mary Ann were not on board.  I took that as a good sign since I only had four days for this trip.  The weather was spectacular.  Calm seas, 80’s water temperature, and no pirates or two headed sharks.  It looked like a good day to finally begin the sport of scuba diving.

We donned our gear.  It is always stressful on the first dive when you struggle to get into the water with the fins, mask and tank on.  I look forward to the day when we evolve back to sea creatures and don’t need this equipment.  But, as mentioned before, I only have four days for this trip, so I don’t have time to wait.  I stepped off the boat, like a leap of faith, hoping that I did not do something stupid like leave my bilge plug open or put my mask on backwards.  (Now that I do not have a mustache, the mask orientation is a bit tricky). I successfully made the transition to underwater swimming.  The reef below us was spectacular.  The variety of fish and plant life was mind blowing.  I cannot believe there are so many odd varieties and shapes of fish in one little spot on the globe.    This would make Dr. Seuss proud.

We did a total of four dives that day.  I was cramping up at the end since my leg muscles are not used to having giant duck fins strapped to my feet.  I had a few jellyfish stings, but that was the worst that happened to me.  I cheated death underwater and it was exhilarating.

The next day was Saturday and we paid our money to go parasailing.  This is where a boat tows a parachute with a human being strapped to it, a thousand feet in the air over the water.  I went first.  They strapped me in to the harness and deployed the giant parachute behind the boat.  Then the boat accelerated and I was suddenly elevated by the pull of the chute.  In no time at all I was 1000 ft high over the inlet where dozens of boats were darting about.  The only time I felt a bit concerned was when I saw a figure down on the deck of the boat, who appeared to be hacksawing the rope attached to my harness.  Hmmm?  Before long, I was cranked back in by the winch and was safely back on the boat. 

Andrew and Ben decided to do a tandem ride, where both are strapped side by side in to the same harness.  The chute deployed and they went quickly went up in the sky, just as I had.  The boat captain toyed with them a bit while they were way up high, by shaking the cable, and darting the boat around.  He slowed the boat down which caused them to be dragged near the waterline and get wet.  I suggested he go between the pilings of the nearby bridge.  He did not quite hear me and said “Go between them?  Are you Crazy? … OK !”  So he promptly began weaving in and out of the concrete pilings of the bridge.  The tow rope, parachute and passengers, were slung from side to side as he made the sharp turns. I could hear Andrew and Ben screaming like little girls as they ricocheted off the hard bridge supports.  There is only time for so much fun, so the captain speeded up and the chute lifted them back up to the 1000 ft level.  That is when we heard an audible “crack”.  The captain said “uh-oh”. 

I knew something was amiss.  The D-ring that connected the rope and pulley to the boat had just broken and the guys plummeted to earth like a stone...that was attached to a large parachute.  It is amazing how gentle the landing of a parachute is even when there is one guy crawling up the leg of the other guy, like a cat trying to get up a tree to escape a dog.  I heard one of them pathetically say to the other: “hold me!” before they finally ditched into the sea.  The boat captain raced out to their location for the rescue and yelled for them to unhook.  Ben got undone first, but that just caused the rigging to shoot up out of the water.  Andrew could not get undone without lifting his entire body weight with one arm while he desperately unhooked his rigging.

It was all over in just a few seconds and it did not seem serious, at the time, to me.  I was busy finishing off a refreshing Pina Colada.  But I did manage to snap a few photos for the lawyers to use in court.   I hope I get a piece of the compensation for the terror inflicted on these innocent young men.

The remainder of the day we strolled around the small city of Key West, sampling the local beverages in many establishments.  In fact, this sampling went on well into the night and early in to the next day.  I was exhausted from trying to stay up with the young pups.  I finally quit trying at 1am and went to bed.

We flew home the next day, and recapped our favorite moments of the trip.  Mine was doing my first real dive and not drowning.  I guess Andrew and Ben’s favorite moments were right after they were rescued from the ocean.  But there were many great memories made.  I hope to go back and do some more diving one day.  There are many reasons for people flock to Florida.  I am sure that not all are there to see two grown men drop out of the sky and scream like little girls.

Dateline: Key Largo, FL Dive trip, part one.

Dateline:  Key Largo, FL  Dive trip, part one.

Greetings gentle readers.  This Intrepid Traveler Report comes to you from sunny south Florida, the home of skimpy bathing suits and tanned bodies.  The population here has such dark leathery skin that it looks like they are wearing Manatee costumes.  Skin cancer is the new normal here.  If you can’t flake off a pound of scabs in a day, the locals think you are just not trying.

I am traveling with Andrew and “Ben” (yes, the same two fellows mentioned in a previous blog post).  Andrew and his wife, my daughter Ali, are expert divers.  They have logged nearly 50 dives, which qualifies them to be on the cover of “Prune Fingers” magazine.  Andrew graciously allowed me to tag along on this dive trip, which will be the first actual dive for me in clear water.  Up to now, all I have practiced diving in was murky, cloudy water.  Now that I see what a difference clear water makes to the diving experience I promise I will start cleaning my swimming pool.

A few nights before I left for this trip Andrew texted me and suggested I trim my mustache in order to have my swim mask seal better against my face.  It is a bit annoying to have seawater fill up your mask when you are trying to survive under water. And having 40 pounds of gear strapped to your body like an anchor does not help either. To demonstrate my commitment to this dive trip, I shaved it off completely. 

It is interesting to hear the reactions to me shaving my mustache.  Andrew snapped a photo of me as we departed for our dive trip and sent it to Ali.  She was 40 miles away at the time, but I swear I heard her gasp in agony when she saw it.  I have had a mustache my entire “adult” life, so neither of my daughters have ever seen me without it.  Ok, there was that time in Anchorage where I had to barter it for whale blubber when we ran out of food, but other than that, I have sported some sort of facial hair for 30 years. 

The reactions created a larger firestorm when the photo got posted by Micah, my other daughter, to her Facebook page.  Many of my girl’s friends, who oddly enough, are also grown adults now, made a flurry of comments about it, like:  “EEEUUUGHH!”,  “Oh my gawd”,  “Put it back! Put it back! Put it back!", ”My mind is still blown. I can't wrap my head around this!! What is happening?!”, "Won't somebody please, think of the CHILDREN!!!",  “Isn’t there a law against that?”, and “Doesn’t he know that the more his face is covered the better?”  The reaction from my wife, the fetching Mrs. Intrepid Traveler, was a bit more subdued….like:  “I didn’t notice”.  At least she didn’t say “Bill who?”

Greetings from Minnesooooota.

Paul Bunyan, life size. (not really life size)

Dateline:  Bemidji, Minnesota

Hello Gentle Readers, As I write this I am in the process of returning from a business trip in the northern area of the state, in the small town of Bemidji (pronounced:  how the hell should I know, I don’t speak Minnesooootan).  I heard it was named after a wise old Indian chief who was famous for saying:  “he who chops his own firewood warms himself twice”…..and who probably had a nagging wife telling him to chop firewood. 

I learned on my trip some interesting, yet useless facts.  Bemidji, Minnesota has several claims to fame.  One is that they say the Mississippi river starts here.  Well, I guess it had to start somewhere.  And this is the area made famous by Paul Bunyon.  Mr. Bunyon, the legendary giant lumberjack, was an avid, yet awful golfer.  He would repeatedly swing and miss the ball   creating divots all over the state.  These divots, according to tall tales, filled with water and became the area’s lakes.  This is the land of 10,000 lakes, so Paul was a busy boy.  He played almost as much golf as President Obama. In addition to creating lakes, Paul unsuccessfully tried to introduce plaid shirts and suspenders as the official dress for professional golfers. 

An important landmark can be found in Red Wing, Minnesota.  This is where the Red Wing boot company has the world’s largest boot on display.  It is a size 638 ½, (in men’s, EEEEE width in case you are shopping for boots).  And you may be interested to know there is a museum dedicated to Spam, the canned pork product, in Austin MN.  The admission to this museum is free, so it must pose a dilemma for economy minded Jewish tourists.

I have heard a lot about ice fishing from the guys I came to meet with.  A lot about it. Apparently this is some kind of winter ritual.  Ice fishing, man cave style, is where the local men drag small, portable buildings out on to the frozen lake in a spot where they think fish might be.  These man caves don’t have floors in them, which is perfect since men aren’t going to vacuum anyway.  Some of these man caves have leather chairs, flat screen TV’s, propane heaters, and ice chests full of beer.  (What a shock).  The fishermen cut a hole in the ice, drop a line, and then ignore it for hours at a time while they watch football, drink beer and avoid vacuuming.  I am not sure why they feel the need to use fishing as an excuse, to hide in their little rooms.  I guess they have nagging wives that would be after them to cut fire wood.  That seems to be a common theme among nagging women.  (did I write that outloud?)

I can just imagine what would happen if I, Your Intrepid Traveler,  had an ice fishing man cave.  I would drag it out on to the frozen lake, and cut the hole, as usual.  I would drop a line in the water, and stare blankly at the slushy hole.  Since I am a Texan, and not used to the low temperature, I would rapidly get chilled to the bone.  So I would do the natural thing and turn up the heat inside the man cave.  I’d quickly make it toasty warm, not thinking that the heater would melt the ice, soon leaving only a man cave sized hole in the frozen lake.    Where did Bill go?

You may be asking yourself:  “Self, how did Bill learn so much about Minnesoooota when he was only in the state for 36 hours?”  Answer:  A wise old Indian chief, hiding in a teepee shaped man cave, told me.