Once again, this story is written on the return flight from,

the west coast, in first class, compliments of Jack de Villiers.

 

Jack and myself arrived in San Francisco, Wednesday afternoon.

We rented a car, met Dave Whittington in Vallejo, then headed

up the coast to our destination, Ft. Bragg.

 

It is late as we check into the Pine Beach Inn, so we unpack, have

dinner and crash for the evening.

 

Our wake up call meant for 0700, comes at 0600. I guess the

hotel clerk set his clock back early. We head to McDonald's for

breakfast then check in with Steve and Bird. Steve gives us some

information on where to get needed supplies and licenses and we

make plans to meet him later at his house. We stop by Sub-Surface

Progression and rent a couple of weight belts (I thought I was going

to get a hernia when I picked mine up), then to Rite-Aid to purchase

our Ab stamps.

 

As we're buying our licenses, a local, is standing in line to do the same.

Seeing as we make friends easy, we ask him where some good spots

are to find some balonies. He replied, "come go with us, I know of a

spot that's hard to get to, but covered with big abs". Need I say more?

He tells us where his truck will be parked, I go outside to identify it,

and we agree to meet them later that morning.

 

We drive over to Steve and Bird's to find him busy posting up the FDL

pie plate markers. We introduce ourselves and spend awhile checking

his place out (and what a place it is) and going over the weekend

planned activities which begin the next day.

 

We still need a couple of ab irons and some gauges. As it turns out,

Steve is a manufacturer and owner of Titan Enterprises. He fabricates

a couple of ab gauges while we watch, then provides us with a couple

of home made ab irons. We thank and leave him to finish preparing

for the "gathering". We embark on our first adventure.

 

We go find Jerry and Matthew, the two brothers we had met earlier.

They are at the waters edge, about a mile away from where we parked.

This was a tricky rock entry, which prompted me to slip and bust

my ass, while Jack snickered. After a quick recovery, we all were in

the water. The visibility was at least 20-30 ft. and the kelp was

abundant and thick. We hung our guns on our float tube while we

hunted for abs. The abs were plentiful and the selection good. We

each had our limit within an hour at which time we traded our ab

irons for spearguns. I remembered shooting the ocean perch with

David Whittington last year, so we began popping the largest we could

find. During and between our taking of game we admired the beauty

of the Pacific Ocean. Giant starfish, anemones and hundreds of big

urchins were a sight to behold. Encounters with sea lions made the

diving even more spectacular. At one point I dived down to find a shiny

new dive knife. Lucky me, I thought. A closer inspection made me

realize that it was my own. It must have slipped out of the sheath.

Soon, the four of us decided to wrap it up and head back up the hill.

Wisely, Jerry and Matthew had brought a wheel barrow, which made

the trip out much more bearable than it would have been otherwise.

We snapped a couple of pictures and went our separate ways. Day one

was a success.

 

We returned to our hotel, got cleaned up and iced our abs down in

the bath tub, much to the delight of our maid, I'm sure. We then

stopped back by Steve and Bird's where we were treated like family.

We swapped a few stories and called it an early evening, went home

where we cleaned fish and dive gear. Here we are, having a blast

and the party hasn't even started.

 

The next day, Friday, goes on record as a red letter day, as members

of the FDL begin showing up and we begin to put faces on all the e-mail

addresses. One of the first is Seth Hopkins, not to be missed in his

Picasso suit and big smile second only to Brandi's.

 

The Stickmen are privileged to dive on Steve's boat, along with

Ms. "Purple Speedo" Brandi Easter, Bob Bachmann, Pete Wolfgramm,

Seth Hopkins, Jonathan Laine and Matt Almeda. Today, I'm beginning

to get the feel of the competitive nature of our group. Not so much

against each other, but with diver vs goal setting. Jack and I are

content to pull abs that are over the legal minimum and do so with

pretty good results. However, Brandi is looking for a single ab and

chooses not to take one under 10". On this day she takes two! Bob and

Pete do well also, as does Steve, and it is amazing how he does it without

wearing fins. Chalk up one more witness to this fact. Seth, Jonathan

and Matt were busy spearfishing and stalking fish. Jack and I, having

filled our limit of abs, grab our guns and do the same. Diving the kelp

is an experience in is own rite. The way the surge of the swells would

push you across the bottom in 20 foot pushes, then pull you back again.

The kelp flowed in rhythm to the motion. The kelp, rocks and sand

merged to form a picture I can still visualize. At times, I imagined a

big halibut laying in the sand, but it was a dream not to be. With this

in mind, I switched from speargun to u/w camera. I swam over to

Brandi to observe and a few dives later she comes swimming up,

holding a 10" ab above her head. I click away with my cheesy little

camera. She climbs aboard the boat as her pride shows in her smile.

I've felt that feeling and share in her excitement. I pray that the

pictures are good one's (one out of three ain't bad). All divers return

to the boat and we head back in.

 

Back at Steve and Bird's, the arduous chore of cleaning begins. With the

guidance of Brandi, the Stickmen get a lesson in all phases of the process.

By the end of the day, we have successfully performed this task.

Let me add that the cleaning table stayed crowed with divers cleaning

their balonies; that is until Pete decompressed upwind from us and

for a few minutes no one was at the table. Sorry brother Pete, but

I just couldn't "pass" up a chance to poke some fun.

 

As the evening progressed, more and more FDL members begin to

show up, names mentioned in my earlier post. Needless to say,

the "gathering" was shaping up to be nothing short of awesome.

 

Jack and I teamed up with Bob and Pete on Friday night for some

local cuisine. We traded dive stories, downed a few brews and flirted

with our 70 year young waitress, Edna. The four of us seemed to

have a lot in common. We nicknamed Bob and Pete the "Dynamic Duo".

We hope that our friendship and dive adventures will be as enduring

as theirs. They have been truly blessed.

 

Saturday morning arrives with the sound of pouring rain on our

patio. Everyone meets at Steve and Bird's nonetheless. Today we

would be diving with Joe Calluso and Dan Rujan, on Joe's boat. A

caravan drives down the coast to Albion where the boats were

launched. Kurt Bickel, Ted Wheeler and Randy also provided boats.

Even still, Seth, Jonathan and Matt yielded a spot for us in lieu of a

beach dive due to lack of seats. Thanks again guys!

 

We all headed out amid 10-12 foot seas and building. The surf was

kicking butt, making for bad visibility and dangerous conditions

close to the beach. Even in deeper water the bottom was stirred,

diminishing visibility to less that a foot. I made 2 or 3 dives to the

bottom, but felt unsafe due to possible entanglement. I decided to

spearfish. I swam over to where Dan was and blasted a black.

I then swam over to Jack to encourage him to do the same. He swims

up with an ab. "Go check the pinnacle under that bed of kelp" he yells.

I swim back to the boat and exchange my gun for my ab iron. Soon,

I'm popping of my limit. I think this is where we picked up our 9's.

Joe enters the water and brings back his limit, then Dan. Dan also

brings up a black. Our boat limits out and we return to the dock.

 

Back on shore, everyone splits to get cleaned up and we meet back at

"The Howe's" for the party, which proves to be a hum-dinger (slang).

Ted Wheeler, Steve Howe and Randy prepare the abalone to perfection.

It was melt in your mouth delicious. The side dishes were too many

to name. Afterwards, we watched Bob Bachmann's video of some prize

tuna hunt in Mexico. Bob da' mann! Later, it was sipping libations

and story telling time around the huge campfire. Steve and Ted

shared on some inventions and all too soon the night would end.

One thing would be everlasting; the new friends we had made over

the past three days. Thank you to all who made our short time

together a memory that will last forever!

 

Mike Wade and Jack deVilliers

Stickmen Freedivers

Mobile, Alabama

USA