Dive Report: Roatan Express Date: Saturday March 4, 2000 Boat: Nauti Gal Captain: Jeff Hunter By: Mike Rodriguez Six divers made the long trip to the Roatan Express today. The 180 foot long Roatan sank 80 miles offshore Ft. Myers in 1992 for unknown reasons. The ship was in a mild storm when it began to list badly. The crew checked to see if the list was being caused by cargo shifting, but they were unable to find what was wrong. The list worsened, and the captain ordered everyone off the ship. He gave up his life vest to one of the passengers and apparently drowned. Another passenger went back to her cabin to get her purse and died in the attempt. I was told that the bodies were not recovered and may still be inside the ship. As the ship listed far enough to take on water it began to submerge then righted itself on the way down. It landed upright in the sand 190 feet down... The day began with a long drive from my home in Boca Raton across a foggy Alligator Alley to Ft. Myers Beach. The plan was to leave the dock at 6am, so all the divers were asked to arrive around 5am. It was still dark when I got to the boat. All the divers had their gear assembled on the dock when the captain arrived with bad news. The forecast was for poor conditions with a worsening trend. A cold front had stalled across northern Florida and was causing high wind and seas up to six feet across the area. We discussed possibly changing our destination to a sinkhole/spring closer to shore, but the other divers and I didn't want to do this. We agreed to take the boat out about 20 miles then decide what to do based on the actual conditions; we loaded the boat and headed out. About 20 miles offshore we encountered mostly three foot waves; not the best conditions, but the 40+ foot boat was easily up to the task. The divers were all willing to dive in these seas, so we continued. As we cut through the waves, seawater splashed and poured over the boat and onto the aft deck; we remained dry and comfortable inside the wheelhouse though. After some conversation everyone settled in for the long trip. The boat had six bunks which some of the divers took advantage of. I got into one of the bunks to try to take a nap. This was about the time when we started to encounter mostly four foot waves with bigger ones here and there. The waves made for a wild ride in my bunk. Somehow the geometry of the engines' thrust line coupled with the dynamics of the hull made the bow rise rapidly as we crashed into a wave then descend faster then 32 M/S^2 as the boat crossed the crest. This, of course, caused me to literally 'levitate' off my bunk several inches. Then as the bow crashed into the next wave, it would move up and intersect my now-freefalling body with surprising force, flinging me into the air again to repeat the cycle. Ouch! Despite the pain of each impact, I couldn't help but laugh out loud as I flew around in my bunk trying to brace myself against the ceiling. Each time I crashed into the bunk I could swear I was going to rupture something. I guess that would have been "rupture of the deep", eh? :-) Anyway, after a few particularly abrupt jolts, I'd had enough of that and went up on deck for a while. The boat was now down to only 17 knots due to the rough seas; we were still nearly 60 miles and over 3.5 hours from our goal. Fortunately, the seas settled down a bit and it was again possible to survive a ride in the bunks. I got back in and even managed to snag a little sleep over the next several hours. After what seemed like eternity I heard the engines suddenly go to idle power, and I knew we'd finally arrived. It had taken over five hours to get there. I jumped out of bed and went up on deck where I was relieved to see the ocean was down to around two feet now; apparently the forecast had been overly-pessimistic. Most of my dives are along the southeast Florida coast within a few miles of shore, so I always find it a little unnerving to look all around for land and find no trace of it in any direction. I took one last look around, then began to ready my gear as the captain set up a downline and anchored the boat nearby. The water was an encouraging blue. It was mostly sunny with a light wind. The temperature was about 78F. The water was about 75F on the surface but was a chilly 71F on the bottom. There was no significant current; what there was went north at maybe 1/5 knot. I was diving trimix 21/29/50 with 50% and 100% oxygen for decompression. When the downline was ready, my buddy and I geared-up and jumped in. We followed the line down and were immediately surrounded by about 30 jacks swimming all around us. I don't know what attracted them to us but they were all around us and wouldn't leave. They were so dense that I couldn't see where the wreck was. Some of them would turn sideways and scrape along the sand apparently to remove parasites. I know aquarium fish do this sometimes and found it interesting to see 20 pound fish doing the same thing. After a few seconds I realized the jacks weren't going to leave so I tried unsuccessfully to shoo them away. Then I caught the vague dark outline of the wreck in the distance to the east. I took a compass baring and set the reciprocal in the bezel, then my buddy and I left the downline and swam toward the wreck. We dropped to the bottom to speed our progress by clawing through the sand as we finned toward the wreck. I was a little concerned about leaving the downline because if we couldn't find it again on the way back, we'd end up decompressing on a lift-bag 80 miles offshore with the boat anchored. But it was either that or return to the surface, and neither of us wanted that. We swam east about 100 feet and the ship came into view. The ship lies upright pointing roughly south. We were approaching the starboard side of the wreck about mid-ship. The first thing I noticed were about six jewfish swimming slowly along the bottom. I've never seen so many jewfish in one place as I saw on this wreck. When we reached the ship, I studied the hull to see if there was any sign of damage which might account for the sinking. It looked perfectly intact with no breaches or buckling at all. We swam along the sand toward the stern and found a capsized lifeboat in the sand; a stark reminder that this shipwreck was real and people died as a result. We continued along the sand to the two propellers. I swam under the stern between the rudder and the hull then around the aft section of the hull to the port side of the ship. As I rounded the hull I came face-to-face with a big jewfish. It was no more than 10 inches from my face, and I could see inside its mouth as it slowly backed away from me then turned and swam away. I swam a short distance toward the bow along the sand then went up to the deck where I was surprised to find no wheelhouse; it turned out to be near the bow of the ship rather than the stern... an unusual configuration. There were several badly corroded cars and trucks still securely anchored on the deck. I looked under and around them then swam forward along the deck to the crew quarters. There was on open hatchway leading to a dark corridor. I entered and noticed dusty rust particles stratified in the still water. On the left just inside the opening is what looked like a galley with a dishwasher, an iron and stacks of china. I continued in and found several small bedrooms and a shower room. There was a shampoo bottle still floating on the ceiling and other signs that people once lived here. I half expected to find the body of one of the two people who died when this ship sank. It was spooky. As I moved forward a rusty silt dislodged by my exhaust bubbles fell from the ceiling reducing visibility slightly. Further in I found another bedroom with a mattress up against a bulkhead and a bicycle. Still further in there was another bicycle and a desk with the drawers spilled open. I'd reached the end of the corridor, and to go further I'd have to tie in a line and turn a corner. My buddy on this dive wasn't trained in overhead environments so didn't follow me in; he was waiting for me by the hatchway, so I turned and headed back. As I reached the exit my buddy grabbed a stack of china from the galley and we both exited. Outside we each picked out a nice plate and left the rest of the china neatly stacked on the deck for the other divers, then we continued toward the bow. The next major structure we encountered was the wheelhouse about 20 feet aft of the bow. There was an open bulkhead just under the wheelhouse, and I took a quick look inside. We were too late into the dive to try to explore very far, but I did take a look and noticed stairs leading up toward the wheelhouse. The captain's quarters may be in this area. I was told that the captain had a case of very good wine in his quarters. Finding that would really be nice. I'll have to look for it on my next visit here. I next swam up and into the wheelhouse through one of the windows. Inside there are stairs leading down. I'm pretty sure these are the ones I saw a moment before from below. I was joined in the wheelhouse by about eight jewfish while numerous others orbited outside as if keeping vigil. One of the jewfish turned sideways and gracefully swam through a seemingly impossibly small space between a railing and the floor; their agility always surprises me. I exited the wheelhouse through another window and saw a particularly big jewfish swimming by. It was about the size of a Ugo... well, maybe not that small. I swam the remaining distance to the bow then over the port side where I hovered over the sand. As the gentle current moved me back toward the stern I read out the name of the ship painted on the side... R O A T A N E X P R E S S. We still had a few minutes left so we slowly swam back toward the stern. Mid-ship I saw the stack of china still on the deck and wondered where all the other divers were. At the stern we took one last look at the cars then rounded the stern and made our final pass forward along the starboard side. Once again at mid-ship I saw the china sitting on the deck then we set off by compass to look for the downline. We swam for several minutes without seeing the line so I reluctantly pulled out my lift-bag while my buddy held a steady depth for me to reference as I got the bag ready. Just as I prepared to shoot the bag my buddy spotted the downline, and we swam to it as I stowed the bag and reel. I didn't much care for doing a drifting deco 80 miles from shore, so I was relieved to find the line. We followed it up and at about 100 feet it intersected the anchor line which we followed the rest of the way up. During deco I noticed a cute little crab about three millimeters across struggling to climb through the water column. How it got up this far from the bottom is anyone's guess... maybe it hitched a ride on me. Anyway, I stuck my finger out and it grabbed onto my glove. I didn't know what to do with it. I couldn't take it back down to the sand and placing it on the anchor line would probably kill it when we pulled the anchor. All I could do was gently shake it off my glove and watch helplessly as it fell to the bottom. I hope it made it down without being eaten by a fish. My buddy and I finished decompressing and were on the boat warming up in the sun a while later. This is when we found out that the other divers didn't make it to the wreck. They followed the line to the sand and couldn't find the ship. One of them tied in a reel and went searching but was still unable to find it so they all headed back up and returned to the boat. I'm always very discouraged when a diver a misses a wreck, so I was glad when the captain offered to reposition the downline and let the divers try again. Two of them agreed to try; the other two declined. My buddy and I described the wreck and told them where the stack of china was as they geared-up and jumped in. One of the divers returned within a few minutes with the china and the other returned about 20 minutes later. Although their time on the wreck was short, they were both happy to have at least seen it. The two divers stowed their gear as the captain pulled in the anchor and downline. Fortunately, the forecast worsening conditions failed to materialize, and we were able to make good almost 20 knots for most of the return trip. It still took about five hours to get back to the dock; the sun was just setting as we arrived. It had been a long day. We were all tired and didn't linger long after getting our gear out of the boat. I said goodbye to my new friends and headed out for the long drive home. Despite the long bumpy ride to the Roatan, I would jump at the chance to return. I had a great time and am looking forward to my next visit.