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Dive Report: Fugetaboutit Wreck
Date: Saturday August 3, 2002
Boat: Sea Eye
Captain: Ron
By: Mike Rodriguez
I left my home in Boca Raton early in the morning and drove north on I-95 toward my
destination in Sebastian, Florida, a small coastal town between Melbourne and Cape
Canaveral. I met the rest of the AUE Core at the Sebastian Yacht Club. After loading
our gear on the boat, we headed out under clear skies. It was a warm day and
the ocean was flat; we made good time and arrived at the site by late morning.
The Fugetaboutit wreck was first dove by my frequent buddy and me almost exactly
one year ago while on a dive trip to the Cities Service Empire (CSE). A local fisherman told
us about the site. The Fugetaboutit got its name when the gang joked after our first
spectacular dive there how we'd respond if asked for the numbers there...
"Fugetaboutit!"
The Fugetaboutit was a freighter and judging by the growth on it, it's been down for at
least 60 years, probably much longer. It rests upright in the sand 310 feet down and
about 30 miles offshore;
it's about 250 feet from end to end.
This was our first dive off the Sea Eye. Although the captain, a salty and talkative
character, turned out to be very competent, we decided to leave one of our guys
managing things topside. The plan was to dive in two independent teams of two but
staying in a group of four as much as practical. Our mission was to shoot video for
our sponsor. One member of each team would concentrate on filming
while the other kept an eye on things.
At the site we tried a few times to hook the wreck from the surface; unfortunately, the
3.6 knot current (no kidding!) on the surface and light current on the bottom prevented
our huge, heavy hook from even touching bottom. We tried with almost 500 feet of line
and still, the current drove the floatball so quickly that the hook couldn't sink all
the way down. In the end, we decided to do a free descent with a very long lead.
Everyone got ready as the captain set us up from the north. We drove
south against the current, and when we passed over the wreck, the captain yelled for us to get ready. At
.12 miles south of the wreck, we rolled over the side of the boat and dropped into the
water... cameras, scooters, and all.
Everyone was breathing a fairly hypoxic trimix in the neighborhood of 12% to 14%
oxygen. This is too hypoxic to breath on the surface, so as we dropped into the water,
we held our breath for a few seconds until we were about 15 feet or so down. At that
point, our mix was the equivalent of about a 19% PO2 on the surface, which is easily
able to support consciousness in a healthy person. By that time, everyone
had found their buddy and flung out their scooter in front of them. We took one last look around
to make sure everyone was ready, then we pointed the scooters down and powered
toward the bottom.
At about 100 feet, the water temperature dropped sharply and it began to get dark.
We continued down at full speed and around 200 feet we hit a second
thermocline. Now the water was quite cold. My bottom timer never had enough time to settle on a
temperature, but it was still dropping fast by the end of the dive. I estimate the
temperature was in the upper 50s.
A bit past 200 feet we stopped the scooters and drifted down on inertia, then suddenly
a school of curious jacks shot up at us from the bottom. This was our
cue that the wreck was near. At about 240 feet we spotted the top of the wreck; it had been a
perfect drop.
We scootered the rest of the way down, then I hovered over my buddy as he
prepared the camera and began shooting. I watched in awe the beautiful stark white
oculina coral that grows in abundance on this wreck. This coral is protected, and I've
had the honor recently of being one of the divers working with Harbor Branch
Oceanographic Institution, NOAA, and Florida State University on collection and
transplantation projects. These projects attempt to restore the coral habitat which have
in recent years been almost wiped out by illegal trawling in the area. Like all natural
systems, the effects of this devastation are widespread and long-lasting.
I studied some of the coral bushes where we collected samples last year to see how
quickly the coral recovers, then I scootered after my buddy who was moving off to film
another part of the wreck. As we rode along I enjoyed watching the small pink fish
who spend most of their time swimming a few inches from the oculina suddenly duck
into the coral branches, then emerge again when we move away. The effect
is like that of an umbrella opening and closing.
My buddy continued to film while I kept an eye on him. Periodically, I'd peer through
the 50 foot visibility at the other team as they went about their filming. My buddy and I
rounded the stern, then scootered forward again over one of the large boilers. We
continued forward past huge ribs sticking up from the sand looking like an
enormous dead whale. The side plating has long since fallen off and as we passed the ribs, I
stopped to look inside the holds which were filled with lead that had melted and
resolidified.
I was ready to get out of the cold water and was thankful when the end of our bottom
time approached. My buddy and I glanced at each other, then scootered toward the
other team arriving with about two minutes to spare. We poked around near each
other for the last couple of minutes, then everyone drifted up and off the wreck in the
light bottom current.
I was happy when we passed the first thermocline at 200 feet. The 70F water felt
downright warm after the cold water we'd just left. Around 100 feet it warmed up a bit
more and I was finally comfortable again. I shot my liftbag to signal the boat, and we
were quickly joined by our fifth team member who snorkeled down to check on us.
Deco was wonderful in the warm water and 200+ feet of visibility. Afterward,
we boarded the boat for lunch and a second drop on a couple of potential wrecks the
captain had numbers to in 190 feet of water. We dropped on both sites, but
unfortunately both turned out to be geological formations. One was a long ledge, and
the other was an odd group of very large boulders sitting essentially on a sandy
bottom.
We called it a day and headed home all the while listening to the captain complain
about how long we'd kept him out and how bad the thunderstorms we'd have to motor
through before getting to land would be. I realized he wasn't kidding when I looked at
the building storms on the radar. The mood on the boat changed when the air
temperature suddenly dropped from nearly 90F to about 60F in a couple of seconds.
This was the downdraft from the leading edge of the line of storms. Everyone settled
down as well as they could in the open boat to ride out the storm. I had brought an
umbrella for protection from the sun during our surface interval, but it came in more
handy when I huddled under it on the deck with cold rain and wind flying around me.
Occasional lightning and thunder flashed and roared around us as we continued to
make way toward land. After about an hour, the worst of the storms was behind us
and we made quick time to the dock where we unloaded and headed to the hotel to
clean up, eat, and sleep.
The following day was my turn to run surface support, so I was happily surprised when
one of the other divers opted to sit out on the second dive; he had to fly the following
day and after seeing how late we got in the day before thought he'd just do one dive. I
loaded my gear and we headed out. I was expecting to dive the CSE in the afternoon
after the others dove the Pan Massachusetts. It didn't turn out that way
due to timing so instead, my buddy and I got to check out another possible geological formation in
170 feet of water. The captain thought it might be an airplane, but we never found out
either way.
My buddy and I were the only ones to dive the site. The captain called it "Warsaw
Capital of the World". I took the camera as we dropped into the water. Around 100
feet down the viz and temperature dropped sharply and around 150 feet my buddy
and I leveled out in nearly zero visibility. We remained in touch-contact and slowly
dropped the remaining 20 feet. At around 165 feet we hovered still unable to see the
bottom. We slowly inched down and finally I spotted the sand right at 170 feet. The
visibility varied from two to five feet. Unfortunately, in such poor conditions I couldn't
tell what, if anything, was there. We drifted along in the gentle current
hovering about 18 inches from the bottom. There were little grassy clumps, small fish, and at least one
soda can on the bottom, but no warsaw. We finally gave up when it became obvious
that we were not going to identify anything is such poor visibility. We bailed out
and headed to the surface for a brief deco, then boarded the boat and went
home tired, but happy.
Copyright
© 2001 Mike Rodriguez. All rights reserved. |