Author: Marcello Polacchini
And here I am, almost 9.000 km from home... driving my big Ford Fusion rented in Miami. I've been speeding for about an hour along the Overseas Highway, the road that is the continuation of US Route 1 and connects Florida City to Key West, winding for 128 miles to the southernmost tip of the United States. I'm in southern Florida, where the Keys form an archipelago resembling a thin peninsula, separating the Gulf of Mexico from the Atlantic Ocean. A thousand thoughts crowd my mind as a long-dreamed-of beautiful day at the beach is about to begin. With me are my wife Angela and my daughter Chiara... finally the whole family is reunited!
I've now reached Key Largo, and the landscape I see passing by the windows is typical Florida: lush vegetation, expanses of mangroves dipping their roots into the water, low, mostly white wooden houses, and water, lots of water both to the right and left of the road. The Keys Islands are an archipelago made up of over 800 fossil coral islands (their name doesn't mean "keys," but derives from the Spanish "Los Cayos," meaning "the little islands") connected by countless bridges over which the railroad originally ran. The atmosphere of the Keys is still that wonderfully described by Ernest Hemingway in his novel "The Old Man and the Sea": here, the sound of the waves crashing on the beach and rocks, the taste of salt, the smell of freshly caught fish, the hiss of the wind, and the sounds of animals blend with the magic of the landscape and the vibrant colors of nature, creating a magical, almost surreal atmosphere.
I'd like to lose myself in this lush nature, but today I have a specific destination and don't have much time to admire the landscape. At 8 am I have an appointment at mile marker 100, where the marina is located, home to the Rainbow Reef Dive Center... and Americans are extremely punctual. It's strange how addresses are given here in Florida. All distances and locations in the Keys are marked from south to north, based on their distance from Key West (mile marker 0) to Florida City (mile marker 126). My destination is Key Largo Boats & Dock – 99725 Overseas Highway Mile Marker 100 Key Largo, FL 33037... it seems incredibly complicated, but it isn't.
I pass several diving centers dotted along the highway (I've never seen so many in Italy!) and finally reach mile marker 100. A large red and white "dive" flag unmistakably announces that we've reached our destination.
I get out of the car and, together with Chiara and Angela, I go to the diving center desk where we had booked our two dives by email. They welcome us and immediately have us fill out the routine forms: personal details, certifications, number of dives, etc., after which we begin suiting up. Since we're traveling around the United States for a month, we obviously haven't brought our scuba gear with us; we simply have an Advanced PADI certification (a kind of pass-through) and our dive computers.
We collect the rented equipment (all strictly “rec”) and board the “Voyager”, a large 40-foot fishing yacht equipped for diving, which still retains its large flying bridge.
The rental scuba gear leaves a lot to be desired (after all, what can you expect for just $30?): a 3mm wetsuit, an old Mares octopus, and a good BCD. What leaves me most perplexed (and a little worried) are the "let's take a dip in the beach" type foot-foot fins... that is, toy fins with small, super-soft blades. Accustomed to my "Tech Fin" Dive System and aware of the strong currents that await me in the middle of the ocean... I'm not exactly happy... The tanks, of course, are 12-liter Catalina aluminum tanks with a single connection... but I was already expecting that.
Map of the island of Key Largo, the first of the Keys you encounter coming from northern Florida.
Our two dive spots are indicated in the red circle.
Once aboard the Voyager, they make us sit neatly on the comfortable side benches at the stern and ask us... how many pounds of ballast we want. A real dilemma with unfamiliar equipment and a 12-liter aluminum tank. I opt for the equivalent of 6 kg for my first dive... hoping I've hit the mark.
The Rainbow Reef Dive Center is located in the Key Largo Marina (FL).
Around 9 a.m., we left Key Largo Harbor and headed out into the Atlantic, and the Voyager literally soared across the ocean at about thirty knots, amidst waves about one meter high. We quickly reached our first dive site: latitude 24°59'38"N, longitude 80°22'92"W, home to the wreck of the USCG Duane, a 100-meter-long patrol boat that was sunk in 1987 after being decommissioned to make way for an artificial reef.
While the captain expertly moors the boat to a large buoy, the crew gives a detailed dive briefing, focusing on the specific procedures for descending and ascending. We'll jump from the stern one at a time, grabbing a line connected to another line running along the side of the boat from stern to bow, and we'll drag ourselves along this line until we reach the buoy to which the boat is moored. The buoy is located just above the stern of the wreck, which is about thirty meters below. Once we reach the buoy, we'll descend in a line along its line, still holding on, until we reach the stern of the ship and from there we'll begin our exploration. The reason for this particular procedure is obvious. Just look at the wake our boat leaves in the water when moored to the buoy: there's a current of over 4 knots! Yes, gentlemen: here's the famous Gulf Stream!
The Gulf Stream is a powerful warm ocean current that originates in the Gulf of Mexico, in which large masses of water are superheated by the action of the sun's rays and tend to rise rapidly northward but are deflected by the Earth's rotation.
After preparing my gear, I move to the comfortable, wide stern platform of the boat and, holding tightly to the line that runs from stern to bow and all the way to the buoy, I leap into the water with a giant's stride. As soon as I surface, I immediately feel a strong tug toward the stern and realize that the captain's warning to never let go of the line was entirely appropriate. I pull myself toward the bow, and while Chiara, ahead of me, has already reached the buoy, I see my wife Angela struggling behind me. She screams at me that she can't hold on with her arms, and I manage to help her by grabbing her before the current sweeps her away and carries her... to Cuba!
Finally, the two of us reach the buoy and begin our descent, holding on to the line. The current is incredibly strong, and I struggle to breathe through my regulator, which is almost ripped out of my mouth. Luckily, the water is pleasantly warm (82°F, or about 27°C) and crystal clear. In fact, as soon as I put my head under, I can clearly see the wreck of the "Duane" about 30 meters below and the white sand seabed 130 feet below. Fantastic!
With difficulty, we reach the ship's aft deck and seek shelter from the current beyond the gunwale, flattening ourselves on the deck. After catching our breath, I give my companions a "OK" sign and... I find the courage to cast off the line and finally begin the dive.
Sailing the Atlantic aboard the “Voyager”
First, we swim against the current toward the bow, and with great difficulty (these fins don't push us at all...) we reach the ship's central quarterdeck, which we skirt for a short distance, staying on the port side. I see Madison, our guide, slip through a side door, and I can't believe I've finally found shelter from the current.
We swim inside the wreck for a while, proceeding single file, and then exit through another door on the starboard side. I peek over the gunwale to see what's under the gunwale, and my heart skips a beat... right below me, a few meters away, I spot a large nurse shark (Ginglymostoma cirratum) lying on the white sand bottom! I get Madison, Angela, and Chiara's attention, and we stand there for a few moments admiring the animal: a 7-8 foot beast.
The large nurse shark spotted on the seabed next to the wreck of the "Duane." The nurse shark, which can reach 4 meters in length, has a pair of barbels under its mouth that allow it to find the invertebrates it feeds on. This shark, quite common in tropical and subtropical waters near the coast, spends its days resting on the seabed, while at night it hunts for crustaceans, mollusks, and invertebrates, which it sucks into its small mouth while swimming at high speed.
After admiring this beast, we ascend a bit, reaching the outside of the ship's upper deck, and swim around the funnel. The wreck is perfectly preserved, and the exceptional visibility allows me to admire it in all its beauty. I'd read online that the "Duane" is one of the most beautiful wrecks in the Keys, and while I haven't seen any others here in Florida, I can say it's perfectly intact and has a very special charm.
Unfortunately, the very strong current significantly affects our fuel consumption, and, partly due to incorrect weighing, I'm among the first to reach the gas pressure in the tank we'd planned to ascend. I tell our guide how much gas I have left and warn her that I'm about to ascend. Then, somewhat apprehensively, I head toward the stern of the ship, swimming with the current. I literally fly over the stern deck and try to slow my pace by holding on to whatever I can find. I know perfectly well that if I don't grab the line attached to the buoy... I'll be lost in the ocean at the mercy of the current, and... the prospect doesn't appeal to me at all! So I spread my arms and legs and... I find myself squashed on the line that rises at a 45-degree angle to the buoy to which the "Voyager" is moored. My style certainly isn't that of an expert diver, but this is a serious matter: it's about saving your skin!
Climbing like a monkey, clinging to the line, I finally reach the buoy and surface. I'm almost out of air from the effort: I have only 40 bar of air! I firmly grasp the line that runs toward the stern of the boat and put my head back under water to see how Angela and Chiara are doing. They're still trying to ascend, clinging to the line that leads down to the wreck. I know I can't help them if they need it, but I'm worried about them.
Our laborious descent onto the wreck, at the mercy of the Gulf Stream
As I cling to the line on the surface, I finally have time to think about the incredible spectacle I saw down below and how wonderful it would be to do this dive again without a current (…an impossibility), or with adequate equipment, that is, at least a double dive suit and a pair of “serious” fins. A 12-liter tank definitely doesn't give you the time to explore the entire 100 meters of the wreck, remaining for half an hour at a depth of over 30 meters. I also have another thought: is this the safety and organization of American diving centers? We're in good shape…!
The forecastle and to the right the mast with the crow's nest of the “Duane” standing out in the blue.
For today I have to make do with what I saw in the short time I spent on the bottom and… it really is not a little!
Shortly after me, Angela and Chiara also board the "Voyager." I'd been watching from above with some apprehension as they climbed up the rope, fearing they'd be swept away by the current. I'm a little ashamed to have exited the water before them, but... I'm somewhat consoled when Angela warns me she has even less air in her tank than I do. She's practically out: something that's never happened before! Let's hope things go better on the next dive, which we'll do by drifting over a reef... Anyway, all in all, it was an unforgettable experience.
The route of the dive on the wreck of the “Duane”
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