KEY WEST

YOU CAN'T GO HOME AGAIN

In '01 Patti and I went down to Big Pine Key to provide my minimal support to the VPI Submarine Team. That year we stayed at a modest motel and only visited Key West...one of our old haunts. It was April of '02 and we planning our support trip when Patti suggested we stay in Key West. For me it was no problem as I planned to do a little diving whereever. Last years dive at the "wonderful Looe Key" was really a bust so I hoped Key West would be better. I had not been diving in Key West since the late '70s with the Athens Dive Club. That was a great trip...lots of coral and lots of fish. I was ready for a repeat. A number of us met at the dive boat right beside our hotel for the adventure to begin. Everyone on the boat was nice. There was a guy and his daughter and a number of others. They were not very experienced but looking forward to their dives. I somehow thought that it was going to be like I remembered. At that point I did not think of Thomas Wolf and his classic novel.

We headed for an area called the haystacks. I was assured there was a lot of coral and fish. Oh boy was I in for a sup rise.

As I entered the water, I could see that things has changed. The top of the reef was no longer covered with antler coral. The schools of fish were gone. If I hadn't been there years ago, I would not have noticed. Certainly the other divers didn't as they dragged their SPG and safety seconds across what was left of the reef. At each end of the finger reef sections there was a block of star coral. In between there was dead and dying coral. Hydroids and sponges took the place of the coral ecosystem of years ago.

Some of the sponges were pretty but a poor substitute for coral. After the first tank dive I quietly asked the divemaster what had happened. He had no clue of what had been there before. He thought that perhaps anchors and divers had done the dirty deed. Not wanting to cast a net of gloom on the boat, I put on a bright face. After all, these divers had no clue of what a reef should or could look like. All of my inquiries over then next few days drew a blank. Either people would not admit that it had gone to hell or really did not know.



I made the most of the dives after I got over my disappointment taking a few pictures of things like sponges and this school of grunts. As we often say, a poor day of diving is better than a good day in the office. A day in salt water is better than a day in the quarry. At least the visibility was about 40 feet and I did get wet. Not a disaster, but certainly not a dive to recommend unless you are already in town and have already seen the multi-toed cats at Hemingway's place, Sloppy Joes, or Jimmy Buffets Margaritaville on Duval Street.