Message from the President….

This months Tank talk is the Panama City Trip Report

I Left My Heart in San Francisco but Got Crabs in Panama City

Steve's drivin, I'm frying'
Randy behind in the rearview mirror now
Got the fearin', wet suits stinken'
Barb's a sleepin', ain't no stoppin' now

Panama, Pa-na-ma

OK, I changed the words a bit...but the legendary Van Halen song still makes a good trip theme song.  Trip?  Theme song?  I guess you may question as to which trip I am referring.  Well boys, girls & alternate gender types (not that there's anything wrong with that), I am speaking of the most recent power drive - power dive trip the Kittyhawk Scuba Club undertook in the first week of October.  After the south got its collective ass kicked by Katrina and Rita , we decided to pack up a van and make the 800 mile drive to the sprawling metropolis of Panama City .  If the south could survive a double blast of hurricanes, they could possibly survive a visit from the KSC...then again maybe not.  After all, the past trip to Belize validated our scorched reef policy. So we went to seek adventure and glory. Panama City , the inspiration for countless songs and books, would serve as our temporary home and dive headquarters for the Columbus Day weekend.  I will say upfront, it was certainly an interesting weekend.  I would go there as a naive boy...but I would come back, a man.

The trip kicked off on a Thursday evening with the group meeting at the trip staging area...also known as Steve's house.  Four Kittyhawk members and one guest met at Steve's casa de scuba for the ride down south, as always Randy was late.  The Panama City dive crew consisted of Steve, Barb, Randy, Jeff, and me (John).  In no time at all, the van was loaded and we took our respective crew positions.  Steve, craft commander, sat left seat, Jeff took the right as co-pilot.  Randy, navigator, and Barb, in hyper-cryogenic stasis, manned the rear of the ship.  I rounded out the crew as senior music systems supervisor...SMSS, for you techie types.  

Our craft was a marvel of modern technology taking advantage of the latest in aerodynamic, stealth and styling advancements the University of Habersham , Kentucky had to offer.  When the original designs were reviewed by Cletus McCoy, Professor of lift-kitology, the only thing he could utter in his excitement was, "dang."  Clearly, the result was a design of such caliber and simplistic functionality, it would be sought after and reversed engineered by every Bubba and Billy-Bob for the next 57 years.  

At approximately 7PM , the mighty scuba-mobile departed home base for the trip southward.  Upon reaching the freeway onramp, Steve slammed the throttle to the firewall awakening the massive beast.  The deafening roar from the engine signified the release of raw power rejoicing in newfound freedom.  Waves of torque pulsed through body of the vehicle, straining and tightening its structure like muscles of a panther about to pounce upon its prey.  Its rubber paws tearing at the pavement as it lunged forward, continuously building momentum with nothing but a seething lust for speed driving it onward.  All right, I guess I am being a bit melodramatic...would you believe a green mini van with a homemade plywood box on top & stuffed full of scuba gear waffling down the road?  Which story would you prefer...a sinister Hemi-powered behemoth barreling down the road or a tame soccer mom mini-van (ala Ellie May Clampet configuration) meandering down the highway?  Form whatever mental image your heart desires…I just work here.

The trip down took approximately 13 hours to include a few stops for fuel, food and exchange of drivers.  We arrived at Panama City about 8AM and had plenty of time to kill before we had to meet the dive boat.  We did breakfast at a local hole in the wall featuring fluffy omelets but rather weak coffee.  After all that time in the car, a cup of joe with a healthy kick would have be welcomed.  Immediately after filling our stomachs, we proceeded to the dock to verify the location of the dive shop and our boat.  The place was deserted but we confirmed where we needed to be in the coming hours.  The next thing on our agenda was to find and check into our hotel.  We were staying at the Sunset something or other and had rooms within a short walk of the beach.  The rooms were clean, comfortable and featured a kitchenette should we desire to cook…ha ha, as if.  The rest of the crew set off to do some preliminary exploring of the area and coastline.  As for me, I took a nap.  Refer back to the need for stronger coffee.

Dive time finally arrived and we set off for the boat.  We were diving with the Hydrospace Dive Shop.  My initial impressions were rather jilted as when we arrived, a “Be Back at 1” sign welcomed us.  I have few pet peeves in life, but waiting on someone is definitely one of them.  The shop employees finally arrived 20 minutes later and checked us in.  Once again, we went into wait status, as we had to wait for the boat captain to show before we could board and set up our gear…no Scooby snack for you, Captain!  Finally, the captain arrived and 15 anxious divers loaded their gear on the boat and got themselves situation.  Shortly thereafter, we were underway to the first site of the day, the Black Bart, a vessel sunk as an artificial reef. 

Reaching the dive site took all of 45 minutes.  In no time at all the crew hooked the wreck and were giving us the pre-dive briefing.  We geared up and jumped over the side in a manner of minutes.  Randy and Barb were the first to splash with Steve, Jeff and I bringing up the rear.  We were in for one heck of a surprise when we submerged…horrible, nasty visibility.  The scuba gods blessed us with great weather and smooth water but conspired to reduce the visibility to that of an Ohio rock quarry.  The water may have been tropical as far as temperature but as for vis…Suck Factor Five, Mr. Sulu!  It was a shame, as the Bart appeared to be a very interesting wreck with plenty of holes and doors begging to be explored.  We had to be content with poking our heads in hatchways and doors for a peek at what lay inside.  Since we were diving at the 80-90 foot depth, we got close to exceeding bottom time long before running out of air.  So up we went.  I would like to tell you more about the dive, the marine life, and the wreck but…we really did not see much.  Well, I guess not every dive trip can all be sunshine and lollipops.

The second dive proved to be consistent with the first; at least I think it did.  Hard to tell given the limited vis.  This time we dove on a bridge span, one of about 14 sunk as artificial reefs.  If you can picture in your mind what a steel-lattice bridge looks like above water, then you know exactly what it looks like underwater.  However, instead of being surrounded by a flock of pigeons, it is swarming with schools of fish.  I guess seeing a bridge teeming with marine life is a rather interesting site regardless.  There were plenty of spadefish, angels, and cudas swimming about.  Our dive time was limited because we had a short surface interval…all of 45 mins; not enough time to off-gas given the depths we were diving.  The chief reason for this is that the dive shop runs morning and afternoon charters and they want to cycle you through your dives quickly.  They are definitely schedule minded.  If you are thinking about bringing doubles and doing long dives—think again or try another shop.

The end of the first day of diving came quickly and we found ourselves at the dock with tummies growling for sustenance.  Naturally, we obeyed this call and headed back to the hotel for a quick clean up before heading out for dinner.  We went to a seafood place suggested by Steve…a nice little place along the main drag called Scampi’s.   The fact that we had to wait for a table was a good sign as a restaurant packed in the off-season must be an indication that the food is really good.  I will forgo chatting about the atmosphere and the staff and get right down to the important stuff—the food.  Oh my, was it good.  I had a wonderful meal of shrimp cooked in a garlic, butter and cream sauce with mushrooms and scallions.  It was poured over a mound of angel hair pasta and served with hot buttered bread.   The others had…ah screw them, I’m enjoying myself recalling this meal.  I am salivating just thinking about it as I type. Besides the food being incredibly delicious, there was plenty off it.  I normally try to maintain some level of composure while dining, but in this case, my fork and knife were throwing off sparks like an arc-welder.  I ate myself silly.

I guess I do have to mention what Steve got as it is a lead into the title of this trip report.  When we entered Scampi’s, Steve read the nightly specials sign and saw that soft shell crabs were on the menu.  He was one happy camper and was down right giddy!  Before our meals arrived, Steve told us about growing up in the south and having access to these types of meals on a regular basis.  In fact, his exact quote was, “I’ve always had crabs!”   Needless to say, everybody perked up at that moment and his statement became the most memorial quote of the trip.  Even I stopped shoving shrimp in my face long enough to chuckle.   We all enjoyed our meals to the point of overdoing it.  However, I did not know it would be a prequel to another amazing moment to come the following morning.

There are many milestones in one's life; so many goals one seeks to achieve before their time ends.  More often than not, these things set the tone for who we are.  Our lives are peppered with a mixed bag of "firsts" laying the foundation for what will become the figurative monuments to our lives.  A lot of these firsts are unassuming bricks that help shape it, while others are the pivotal keystones providing the rigidity and strength to support it.  Many of us mark our lives by these firsts, from our first steps, first kiss, first child or what ever it may be, they are the benchmarks to which we measure ourselves against each other as well as our own set objectives.  Little did I know when I left for Panama City , that I would come to experience one of these life altering firsts, one that would virtually reshape the very principles and dogma for which I live.  I have been atop the Bavarian Alps , strolled the streets of Tokyo , and played in the surf on an isolated Hawaiian beach but nothing could compare to this first... breakfast at Waffle House. 

Never in my life had I experienced an establishment so dedicated to culinary excellence.  From the very first moment I walked into the place, I was awash in a dizzying spectacle of pastel yellows, off-whites, glass and chrome...Clearly, this place seemed to emanate class at every turn.  My mind raced in a flurry of activity as I tried to take in the ambiance and wrestle with anticipation of things yet to come.  I was enticed by the other patrons seated at the bar, obviously key pillars of our society and each brimming with excitement and stories of their own.  I wanted to shout aloud, "good morning" and share the feeling of joy only a new day can bring.  Then I saw her...a waffle house waif.  Clad in a soiled apron, arm in a sling, and just coming in from a smoke break, we glanced at each other and formed a bond to last a lifetime.  The group found a table and sat down.  My waffle angel followed and uttered something I would never forget, flashing a smile reminiscent of an unkempt picket fence, she asked, "You want some coffee, hon?"

Ah, my sweet Floridian flower was a sight to behold.  She tried to fool everybody with a façade of a gruff exterior and harsh disposition.  I knew it was an act…even when she threatened to kick the rest of the staff’s asses for lack of activity, I knew…Yes, I knew!   With all the grace and poise of a princess, she glided through the restaurant taking care of our orders and fulfilling our every whim.  Then she brought unto me a plate of sheer delight; a golden circle of fried batter accented with shredded potatoes lovingly seared in hot oil.  Until that moment, I was a waffle house virgin and as she reached out with a gentle hand to place my order in front of me, I knew I was changed forever…I was now a man.  Before I could fully come to grasp what had transpired, it was time for me to leave.  So long ill tempered, one armed, tooth deprived mystery woman...We will always have our pecan waffle, won't we?  You changed my life and I will remember you always...Good-bye my love.

While still dazed from my waffle house experience, my comrades loaded me into van and we were soon on our way to the dock for the second round of diving.  The diving was remarkably similar to the day before with the first dive being a wreck and the second dive dedicated to another bridge span.  Again, travel time to the site was just under an hour and we quickly donned our kits and hit the water.  As expected visibility had not improved but the wreck had some very interesting features.  The wreck, named the Strength, is broken up in several pieces and these pieces lie on the bottom at different orientations. This made for a very interesting dive. I found it very cool to glide over a portion of the wreck sitting upright and suddenly the next section is sitting at a completely different angle.  The poor vis made these transitions seem more abrupt and unexpected.  I really enjoyed it and I think it merits another dive when conditions are better allowing one to penetrate the various breaks and holes in the hull.  Once more, we had to be content with limiting the dive to external surveys of the wreck.  

The second dive was yet another bridge span...for a description of this dive, see the preceding account of bridge span diving….only the date & time needs changing.  Day 2 and were doing re-runs.  I call this the deja vu dive.

We returned dockside shortly before lunch.  After getting in a quick clean up we piled in the scuba mobile and headed to Pineapple Willy's (PW) for lunch.  PW's, situated on a pier, offers a tasty choice of seafood as well as standard burger-type cuisine.  I had a wonderful mahi and bacon sandwich….mmm, fish and pork embraced together...me like and eat up!  We had the pleasure of watching a little beach volleyball taking place.  You know what is better than eating great food and watching a bikini clad babe jumping up and down in the sand...not a damn thing!  Overall, it was a darn fine lunch.  However, to me lunch is nothing more than a stepping-stone to dinner, just a little something to tide one over until din-din time.  Which brings me to that very subject?  Dinner...imagine that.  

Our original dinner plans were to hit a steak joint but we ended up at an Italian place.  The name of the establishment eludes me at the moment but I recall it was a rather small place with recently updated decor.  The food was good but not great and since it did not cost a fortune, none of us could really complain.  I am spoiled when it comes to Italian food…I know the good from the great.  With dinner finished, we headed back to the hotel...Some of us concluded the evening with a walk on the beach or a jaunt through the neighborhood.

The third day of diving kicked off with breakfast at Captain Jack's Seafood and Breakfast buffet.  The buffet was palatable and not too expensive.  Two distinct criterions that attract old people like sharks to a bait ball…cept they move a lot slower.  The scene is more akin to the Night of the Living Dead rather than a swirling mass of sharks.  Basically, it is a pod of slow moving zombies ambling up to the breakfast bar.  If you want to spark some life out of them, try reaching for the last bran muffin and see how fast they move.  You're likely to loose a finger..cuz they'll fork you up, man. 

Upon finishing our meal, we headed off to Hydrospace to catch the boat.  This time we were taking the largest of Hydrospace's boats...a good thing.  However, with a group of fresh new faces, we were diving the Black Bart again...not the best of news. Sucks to be out-numbered.  Oh well, a dive is a dive and hitting a site twice offers the opportunity to see something you did not get to see before.  Unfortunately, this prediction did not pan out; Black Bart the sequel was much like the original...refer to any Die Hard movie to catch my meaning.  Nevertheless, a repeat dive is better than no dive at all...so I will quit my bitching.

The second dive of the day and final for the trip was upon a unique vessel, a Navy hovercraft sent to the bottom to become an artificial reef several years ago.  I did not realize how big this vessel was until I actually saw a picture of it several days after diving her.  With the vis being so diminished, it was hard to get a sense of scale even though it took a fair amount of time to swim the wreck from front to back.  Much of it was picked clean in preparation for the sinking but the bulk of the superstructure is intact.  There are some rather tame swim throughs and plenty of areas to explore.  Like the Black Bart and the Strength, this would be a welcomed re-visit went conditions are better. 

We returned to the dock late in the afternoon and opted to forgo lunch in favor of an early dinner.  Since this trip centered on the concept of repetitiveness, we found ourselves back at Scampi’s.  Can you guess what I had?  You betcha, the same damn garlic shrimp dinner I had before.  I am not one to break a streak, even if it is a series of repeats.  Hell, it was marvelous before, it should be even better the second time...because I knew it was great!  Once again, I ate until I was near the point of misery.  But it was sooooo darn good.  Hey, a naked Jennifer Gardner could have been sitting across the table and I would not have even batted an eye.  Most likely I would have looked up long enough to point to her plate and say, "are you gonna eat that?"

Before we knew it, our time in Panama City had come to an end.   Even in the wake of poor diving conditions, each of us had a wonderful time.  The weather and food was good, the company great, and even the diving was something to smile about.  We packed up the van in the early morning hours and pointed its nose northward.  The trip back seemed a little longer as we were all a bit tired and dreading the following workday.  We made it back nearly 4 days to the minute after our departure.  It was indeed a worthwhile trip and I will do it again.  But that will have to wait until next year….sigh.  To sum up the trip…couldn’t see much, Steve got crabs, I was de-flowered, and chicks dig guys with mini-vans.