vituperation

June 9, 2004

We went back to the quarry yesterday afternoon for some more swimming. We went ahead and bought annual passes, so we can swim there whenever we want for the next year. Below, for your enjoyment, are some pictures we took. Robyn’s supposed to drop off the disposable underwater camera today or tomorrow.

Just like Monday, when we got there there were two other people, but they left after a few minutes and we had the whole quarry to ourselves. We were at the other end this time, the end closest to the entrance and dive shop.

See what I mean when I said it was like standing on a cliff?
Does this intimidate anyone else out there?

The water is so clear, and an awesome shade of blue.
This picture shows the underwater section of the pier, roughly
three feet below the surface.

Robyn swims from the other pier to the one where I was.
If you look closely just below the white bouy to the right of her,
you can see the faint round outline of a submerged Titan missile capsule.
It’s about 20 feet down, and I swam down to touch the top. Creepy shit.
It’s thinking about things like diving into it that freak me out about taking
SCUBA lessons, for the record.

Some massive striped bass come looking for food. No, there’s no fishing. Dammit.

Some bream come eat the Cheerios I’m throwing in for them. There weren’t nearly
as many at this end of the quarry. Note, once again, the shade of the water.
Can you tell I love it?

Some of Robyn’s catfish buddies.

This is what you see if you lean out from the shore and look straight down.

There’s a reef of sorts at this end, maybe ten feet down. I swam down
and picked up shells. Yeah, shells. There’s also a shallow end down here,
where an old road runs into the water and then ends at the edge of a big drop.

More scary dropoff.

A whole-site view from this end of the quarry.

Damn, the quarry is cool.

I was talking to someone at work yesterday about taking SCUBA lessons.

“I’ve been thinking about taking them out there, too!” she said, excitedly. “But I’m a little worried about the pressure down at the bottom causing a rupture.”

“I know what you mean,” I said. “If I swim down more than 15 or 20 feet, it feels like my eardrums are going to explode.”

She was silent for a moment.

“I wasn’t talking about my ears,” she said.

And then I realized she was referring to her fake boobs.