I was invited to check out the Cee Ray by Captain Mike and Mikey, the Cook – friends of a common friend.

I was told, “If you’re a regular diver, come and check out our boat for free as our guest, but don’t be afraid to tip accordingly.”

How could I refuse an offer like that?

The boat was chartered by Sports Chalet, the company that I’ve written a lot of shit about – like refusing to fill my Luxfer Aluminum tanks from 1980.

It was explained to me, as I was signing in with their Divemasters, that “They know you’re our guest, they won’t bother you and you won’t bother them…”

That’s cool, but I begged them, “Please, at least, make sure that I’m back on the boat before you pull anchor…”

The two Sports Chalet Divemasters were cool, I believe their names were Tim and Frank.

One looked like Darrell Sheets from the TV show Storage Wars; the other looked like Sheriff Frank Hammer from the movie Bonnie and Clyde.

I was given a bunk and a number; I slept, or tried to sleep, most of the way there.

There were some pretty good looking chicks on the boat; I was lucky to catch a nipple slip when one of them was getting into her wet suit.

We stopped at one place where I thought we would anchor, but then the boat pulled away and sped off to drop anchor elsewhere…

I was the first off the boat.

Logged SCUBA Dive #410

Solo Diving

Scotsman’s Reef, Catalina, CA

In With: 3000 psi
Out With: 600 psi
Max depth: 58 feet
Waves: Slight chop
Visibility: Up to 30 feet
Water Temperature: 65 degrees, colder at depth
Air Temperature: 80 degrees
Total Bottom Time: 45 minutes or so

I jumped off the side, and gave the “I’m OK sign.”

I followed the reef down to 58 feet, were the sand started.

It was clear, but visibility varied.

I spotted a Giant Sea slug.

I made it back with no issues, after having found a diving pouch someone dropped.

Weather, scheduling conflicts and other issues have kept me off the traditional Zodiac lobster attack machine, and I have given up on serious lobster hunting from shore dives.

When I was invited on Chipper’s boat to liberate lobsters in a new, and still secret, location, I could not refuse.

We met at the public launch ramp in the middle of a Los Angeles ghetto.

Immediately when I arrived, bum and poaching drama was already underway.

Some drunken bums had gotten into a fight and one was lying on the ground, unconscious, while his friends were yelling at him not to get up.

Thirty feet from that episode, an extremely hot DFG Officer who looked like Danica Patrick, was writing some fisherman a ticket; while the alleged poacher was yelling, “Just how big are these fucking fish suppose to be?”

We launched the boat with little drama, and after a quick emergency dart back to the ramp to put the drain plug in, we were off.

Logged SCUBA Dive #404

SoCal Buddy Diving With Chipper and Reverend Al

Secret Location: 4f 66 66 20 74 68 65 20 77 61 6c 6c 20 74 68 61 74 20 62 72 65 61 6b 73 20 77 61 74 65 72 20 61 74 20 74 68 65 20 6d 61 72 69 6e 61 20 6f 66 20 74 68 65 20 6b 69 6e 67 20 65 6e 20 65 73 70 61 6e 6f 6c 2e

In With: 3000 psi
Out With: 500 psi
Max depth: 36 feet
Waves: A little choppy
Visibility: Six feet
Water Temperature: 55 degrees
Air Temperature: 69 degrees
Total Bottom Time: 35 minutes

I was the first one off the boat – we were to dive in shifts, always leaving someone on the boat – this is the ghetto, and not even boats are safe.

I descended and checked the anchor – the anchor was just dragging on the sand – I believe the anchor chain was too short.

Initial visibility sucked – I mean sucked so badly I was going to call the dive in the first five minutes.

Then, I ran across a bed of muscles and a short lobster – OK, there’s lobster!

I kept going, and within the next ten minutes, I had caught six bugs – and, these were the easiest bugs to catch, too.

They didn’t act spooked like the one off of Palos Verdes; I simply shined my light on them and they froze until I grabbed them.

A lobster’s life is so horrid, they can’t wait to get liberated.

I spent the next 25 minutes looking for my seventh to limit – easy, right?

Nope – seriously, I thought I would have had my limit within 10 minutes, but either I took the last six legal bugs, or word had gotten out, and those that wanted to live stayed home.

I made it back to the boat with no issues – Reverend Al had gotten skunked on his first dive, so he went back for a second one.

Chipper then made his dive; I stayed on the boat.

As self punishment for not limiting, I decided not to do a second dive for just one lobster.

I had to move the boat away from the rocks a couple of times – the anchor wasn’t holding it.

Reverend Al made it back and we ended up picking Chipper up when he surfaced about half a mile away.

I hold my catch for the night, while Chipper looks on in amazement.

The Reverend and Chipper both went home with one lobster each.

The highlight of my night was going to be to get hassled by that hot DFG Officer that looks like Danica Patrick, but two male officers obliged in her place.

Disrespectful hunters left lobster carapaces rotting on the pavement – it was dark, so my photo didn’t come out, but there was a garbage can five feet away from this.

To add to that “This is the ghetto” flavor, the public restrooms double as low income housing…

How can someone sleep on a concrete floor, covered in urine, in a room that smells like a sewer?

Needless to say, this was an interesting night.

Thanks Chipper!