Scuba dive in St. Croix today with Chasing Sunrise. After hours, days, weeks at work and on zoom, an island vacay is medicine for the soul. So, let’s go!
In this excerpt from Chasing Sunrise, Michael and Jerry dive the mile-deep wall.
A short cruise away, Jerry steered inland and anchored in the shallow water of Cane Bay. The two hiked up the serene beach, deep in white sand and shaded by mature palm trees. A couple of well-kept homes were visible to the east, Jerry’s Dive Shop sat across the narrow coastal road at the center of the U-shaped bay, and a small bar and grill with a thatched roof occupied a sandy patch on the west end. Like most beachfront eateries, the top half of the walls were raised and latched in place by a long drop hook. Customers at the open-air restaurant ate burgers and seafood under the shaded protection of the extended roof.
“Best french fries on the island.” Jerry held his hands apart to indicate a generous measurement. “Piled hot and high.”
Inside, the Dive Shop was divided into two sections. Manned by a surfer transplanted from Hawaii, whom Jerry introduced as Makani, the front of the building was a store with select merchandise for divers. Michael noted the quality name brands. Rental gear was arranged and stored in the back half next to an office. Lined with wide benches, a broad porch ran the length of the low wooden building where locals congregated to drink beer and eat french fries while sharing news, and tourists sat to pull on wet suits and strap on their tanks.
“Pick what you want.” Jack indicated the rental gear. From the office, he shouldered his own dive gear and walked to the porch.
With a practiced eye, Michael selected a short wetsuit. Not a fan of sea urchin quills, he added dive shoes and gloves.
Outside on the porch, Jerry and Michael suited up, hoisted their heavy tanks, and retraced their path back across the narrow road and down the beach to the boat. Jerry trolled out to deeper water and shut off the motor. From a supply container, he passed Michael a dive light and tucked a second one into his belt next to his dive knife.
Michael glanced down at the clear water and estimated he could see thirty feet below. “A dive light?”
Jerry nodded. “You’ll need one where we’re going.”
Michael surveyed the clear blue water stretching as far as he could see.
“We’re diving the wall,” Jerry explained. “A mile straight down. Gets pretty dark pretty quick.”
Michael secured the dive light next to his own dive knife. Equipped with tanks, regulators, and masks, the two dropped over the side of the boat.
The water was comfortably warm, nurturing colorful coral gardens. Bright fish leisurely went about their lives, keeping a wary eye on the approaching divers. Jerry led the way to a hollow in the rocks and coral. A young sea turtle dozed in the secluded spot while an eel peered at the newcomers from the protection of his rock den. Jerry swam to the bottom, about thirty feet below the boat, and picked up a large conch shell the size of the sea captain’s head. He handed the superb specimen to Michael, who ran an appreciative hand across the beautiful surface and then turned the shell over to view the firm muscle of the mature creature inside.
Michael replaced the conch and turned to see a full-grown sea turtle cruise past. With an efficient kick, Jerry paced the turtle and reached for the top of his shell. The two swam on together like an underwater waltz before the hitchhiker released his hold and circled back to Michael while the turtle continued to swim on.
The divers swam north to a steep sand chute. Jerry aimed his flashlight ahead and descended. Michael flicked on his own dive light and followed.
Plate coral covered one side and large patches of elephant ear sponge occupied the other. At the end of the sharp drop was a natural doorway in the rock that Jerry easily slipped through. On the far side of the opening, both men turned off their lights, and Michael gazed in wonder at the rich expanse of deep blue.
Jerry glanced back, and seeing that his dive buddy was close, he paddled through the gentle current to a velvet cerulean opening. Once again following the older man’s flashlight beam, Michael smoothly shot down this passageway like autumn cider through a funnel. He felt their speed and depth rapidly increase until the two swimmers emerged into the ocean and Michael looked at his depth gauge. One hundred feet.
At his side, Jerry pointed to the vertical wall they had just come through. From east to west, the majestic face stretched as far as Michael could see. As they swam west, he saw the wall was textured with spur and groove formations carved by the ocean’s powerful and constant surge. Sand-chute doorways marked the wall nearly every thirty yards. Between the chutes, overgrown plate corals resembled petrified waterfalls tumbling down the abrupt precipice of this magnificent natural underwater formation to the abyss below.
Michael pointed down and used sign language to ask Jerry how deep. The older man shrugged and signaled about three thousand feet.
Jerry held his position, allowing Michael to admire the drama of the unique seascape. A pair of graceful french angelfish glided by a tiger tail sea cucumber in this silent wonderland where the only sound Michael could hear was his own even breathing. Dropping lower, the wall became a continuous surface no longer broken by openings. Intrepid wire corals grew straight out from the wall’s exterior, balanced above the emptiness beneath. Unaffected by unique vistas, fish swam by, occasionally flitting to the wall to nibble.
Too soon, Jerry tapped his air gauge and pointed at the surface. Michael gave him the international okay sign, and the older man guided them toward the nearest sand chute. This passage was narrower, and with the bulky tanks strapped on their backs, the divers barely passed through the winding passage that dissected the reef. Bright yellow star-encrusted sponges lined smaller passages that branched off this channel in both directions. Passing the last porthole, Michael saw a porcupine fish gamely watch him go by much like a pirate guarding his cave of hidden treasure.
Then, they were back in the brilliant sunshine above the wall. Swimming east, they passed through a coral garden where schools of bright tinfoil barbs darted by a lone blue parrotfish. Sea urchin clusters covered rocks near fire coral. Something caught Michael’s eye, and he swam over to get a better look. Half-hidden in the sand next to an aged brain coral specimen was a metal cylinder. Michael brushed away the sand. Jerry joined him and they uncovered an object six feet long and two feet in diameter. Curious, Michael ran his hand down the length and tried to lift it, but the man-made device was too heavy.
Once more, Jerry tapped the air gauge and pointed to the surface. Michael nodded, took a look around to mentally mark this spot and followed Jerry back to the boat. Surfacing, Michael spit out his regulator and pulled off his facemask. Jerry did the same, slid off his flippers, and climbed the ladder hanging from the back of the boat.
“That last patch,” Jerry said, stowing his flippers and gloves, “is a good spot for training new divers. We also use it for night dives.”
Michael swung himself into the boat that gently rocked under their weight. “What was that metal thing?”
“Sonobuoy.”
“I’ve seen ’em.” Michael held his hands close to indicate a length. “They’re closer to four inches wide, not two feet.”
“Modern ones.” Jerry stored his tanks and opened a cooler. He tossed a juice bottle to Michael. “That one’s from World War II.” Michael whistled through his teeth. “Had a guy spend a summer diving with me to find those.” Jerry peeled off his wetsuit. “He said when he was in the war he spit ’em out through a hole on the side of a P-3 Orion four-engine turboprop. An array uncoiled and hung down in the water for six hours. Then some dissolvable part …” He paused, searching for a word.
“Dissolved,” Michael offered the obvious.
“Dissolved, yes, and seawater flooded the compartment, and they sank.”
“Why here?” Michael shook his head. “No German U-boats would waste their time near the island with bigger and better targets in the north.”
Jerry swallowed the last of his drink. “This was the perfect place for the military to do deep-water testing close to shore.”
“Did your friend find any of his buoys?”
“We salvaged one.” Jerry smiled at the memory. “He was pretty happy with it, kinda like finding an old friend.”
Michael finished his drink. “A tad big to take back as luggage on a plane.”
Jerry secured the anchor. “Went to a museum.”
Michael looked out to sea where they had just been. “That one would be valuable to someone.”
Jerry grunted and started the motor.
Grab a copy of Chasing Sunrise and escape to the islands for a mental vacay! Chasing Sunrise will nourish your soul to keep a piece of paradise with you.
Chasing Sunrise explores betrayal, friendship, integrity, and the life-changing gifts of love and hope.—Richard Paul Evans, #1 New York Times Bestselling Author
Available in paperback, digital, and audio, get your copy of Chasing Sunrise today.
