Patrick was thirteen years old the year we had won a trip to Grand Cayman at the annual Gypsy Divers Fest Christmas Party. Off we went that summer with free air fare and free lodging at Coconut Harbor. We were diving with Quabbin Divers (now Quabo), and of course hit "Stingray City" the best 12 foot dives in the world (we actually went twice Patrick had so much fun). We also made a 800 feet dive in a research sub.

The snowstorm happened on another dive off the wall. Arthle Evan was at the helm of his dive boat when we went out in light to moderate seas. Our first dive was fun but uneventful except for the obviously mutant spiny lobster weighing in at a good 19 pounds that walked across the reef without a care in the world. The fun started on the second dive.


Patrick and I splashed into the gin clear water first with four other divers soon following as we headed down the reef. As we reluctantly headed back to the boat at the end of the dive we heard a hammering, a pounding hammering, sounding like a signal coming from the boat. When we surfaced Arthle was in a fit to get us in the boat. Now Arthle is a man of the sea and not easily upset but it was evident why. The wind was howling and the seas were rising. Geting into the boat was difficult as it pitched and tossed.

As we looked toward Cuba, we could see a black cloud reaching from Castro's Bastion of Communist Paradise almost to our little boat. It was like the black cloud in "The Final Countdown" that moved the aircraft carrier back to December 7, 1941. For us it was a bit scary as we bounced and tumbled in the foam tossed angry sea.

The black cloud reached us and it started raining sideways as Arthle started the boat toward the land in a heavy following sea. He was getting drenched on the flying bridge and tossed around like a rat in a tin can. Then the sleet started hitting us mixed with snowflakes. We could not believe our eyes. Arthle said weather like that is why he came back to Cayman from New York. He only had a "T" shirt and bathing suit on. We huddled below.

It was great adventure for us not being in Arthle Evan's place so we could not wait to call home and tell of our adventure of being in a Cayman Snow Storm. The irony was that there had been no snow in Raleigh that winter and we had only seen snow on a trip to the mountains of Virginia. When my wife heard that we had snow, she would not have believed it from me, but Patrick convinced her. We had to go to Cayman to get snow that summer.

Apparantly, a fast moving storm had forced air up over the mountains of Cuba cooling it and before it could heat up again carried it to our location.