Cayman Dive: 6
Site: Spanish Anchor, Grand Cayman
Avg/Max Depth: 36/52
Buddies: Kristen, Curtis, Ted
After a surface interval filled with Matty’s jokes, we quickly geared up for our second dive. The site was aptly named because of an Spanish anchor almost completely overgrown with coral (I missed it, apparently Curtis got a photo). Matty said it carbon dated back to the 1500s. Kristen and I were the first ones in today and we immediately descended. None of this bobbing on the surface nonsense.
The fish were plentiful on the coral fingers. The stoplight parrotfish are my favorites here and there were lots of them. I also got what I think will be a quite stunning picture of a French Angelfish.
Curtis and Kristen headed back to the boat a littler early. Ted and I continued exploring. After about 10 minutes we decided to head back to the boat. We spotted the boat almost effortlessly and did our safety stop. Right about the time my stop was complete, I looked at Ted. He was shaking his head and pointing at the boat. I turned to look and saw the boat was now surrounded by divers. What was wrong? Why were all these strange divers at our boat? Oh, it wasn’t our boat. Woops. We headed in another direction. Our 40 minute time limit had passed, and I was afraid that they would think we were a couple of rogue divers like the one from Tuesday. Since I was only at 13 feet I decided to surface and have a look around to make sure we were going in the right direction. I spotted the boat up top and descended again, pointing the direction to Ted. That was the first time I longed for a compass. At least we were close, a couple hundred feet away at the most. It was then my ear started acting up again, so I hovered at about 8 feet, shallow enough not to hurt, but deep enough to not struggle against the current. We saw a barracuda, and as much as I wanted to swim closer for a picture, my ears weren’t having it. Probably a good thing anyhow.
We got to the boat quickly and we weren’t even the last ones on. On the drive back Matty came on the CB and asked if Frank was donating his camera to him. Crap, I realized it was my camera. I left it in the freshwater bucket. I tried telling the driver, Nicole, that it was my camera and I was with the Lahr party. Somehow she misinterpreted it to be “the misses of Frank”‘s camera. Matty came back on and said, “that’s not Frank’s misses, but I know who you mean.” He said he’d leave it at the dive shop for me to pick up tomorrow. I was only disappointed because I’m quite positive I had some rockin’ pictures on there and now I have to wait a day. Pooey.