Shadows Linger in the Distance

I went out in search of a mysterious yacht that went down off of Laguna Beach. It's a mythic legend among local divers, whose epic stories you hear around the compressor station or dive bar. Since it went down November 17, 1958, I knew that I wouldn't find a seaworthy ship. I researched its location, battled 5' waves, swam about 1/2 a mile out into the Pacific, and dropped down in only 30 ft of water. All I had was a compass reading and an approximate depth. Supposedly it was to be straight out from this Brown House near the shoreline and sitting in 45-60ft of water. I thought no problem, I'll drop down at thirty, get a compass reading and kick straight out until I bump my head on her hull. Well, the distance from 45-60ft was about a quarter mile. The visibility was usually about ten to fifteen feet, but I went through a swarm of microscopic organisms and it dropped to as low as three feet. It started to get darker and darker the deeper I went, but at least I had my big LED light with me. Shadows began appearing just outside the beam of my light. With great anticipation I'd quickly swim up to the towering structure to find that it was just a reef and some rocks. Several times I was convinced that I was merely feet away from the legendary ship, only to disappoint myself horribly. It was so eerie, being down in the dark depths of the Pacific with just a light and my imagination ensnaring me in it's cruel game of shadows. Coming back in, the waves were huge! Cleo street humbles even the most advanced water sportsman. I have heard of instructors getting their butts kicked out there, which makes the dive seems evermore an accomplishment. After scrambling through the waves, I went to fill my tank at Laguna Sea Sports (yes, I know..I work for Sport Chalet, but LSS is a heck of a lot closer) and spoke with the infamous Gordy about the wreck. He said that it is sinking and that not much is left. Oh well, I shall try again another time. My experience reminds me of a poem by Adrienne Rich. Here's a piece of Diving into the Wreck: the thing I came for: the wreck and not the story of the wreck, the thing itself and not the myth, the downed face always staring towards the sun, the evidence of damage worn by salt and away into this threadbare beauty, the ribs of the disaster curving near their assertion among the tentative haunters.

"I am haunted by waters." -A River Runs Through It