Alki

Went diving at Alki last night. The latest dive I've ever done, timewise.
Now that I have my pimpin light, I can do that.

However, this time around, I was a moron and had low air on my tank.
Usually you have arouind 26-3200 PSI in your tank, but for some reason mine only had around 1900 PSI when I put on the reg and checked out the SPG.

So that meant that if I wanted to dive for any extended amount of time, that my buddy, Cory, and I needed to stay fairly shallow. Because the deeper you go, the more your air gets compressed, therefore you go through more air because you're breathing that compressed air in the same amounts as you would at or nearer the suface. (Does that make sense?)

So we head out, I fumble along and get all my gear on. turn on my light, and *BLAT!*
so bright! I feel kinda bad, cuz I buy all the expensive toys while Cory just continues doing his thing and knows 100 times more about diving than I do. He should have the cool toys...
My light is 18 watts. His is 10 watts. There's a very noticable difference.

Diving down, we go to the Honey Bear, that shipwrecked tug that we almost always go by.
But this time we came upon it from the north, at a different angle, where a piece of the hull is jutting up from the bottom of the Sound. I shine my new light in its crevices to see if anything's hiding out.
At first glance, I see nothing. But then I shine my beam around everywhere to see that there are kelp crabs clinging to the hull like bats; their claws are dangling below them, it's an eerie sight. (Wish I had my camera. Although I also kind of don't because that light was a handfull for the first time around.)

We pass that by and swim around some more. We see more of the usual, giant starfish. They're as large as the biggest circle you can make by holding your arms out infront of you in that shape, rather impressive. Some are purple, some orange, some brown.

Later on, we came to another pile of debris, maybe a metal plate. Underneath its slight foot-wide gape sat a huge purple fish. I've seen this kind before hanging out at the Honey Bear, but this one seemed so much closer, as its recesses aren't as deep. I couldn't tell how long the fish was, maybe 3 - 4 feet, But its head was oblong, maybe 8"x4", its eyeball an impressive size of something like a large grape or small apricot. It was staring us down from about 4 feet away, rhythmically batting it's pectoral (?) fins, maybe to keep circulation for the nest that it was protecting. Maybe I'll ask Cory about what kind of fish that was. I'm certain he's told me before, but I get so many names in my head.
Up above that fish was another cluster of eggs in a nook that were left unprotected. I wonder who was slacking on the job with that one.

Beyond that, that was the extent of our excitement.
However, when on the surface, Cory was telling me of an adventure he was told about in the parking lot that others had just the night before.
Apparently they said that they saw a fish wizz by their masks, apparently in a hurry.
Right behind that fish was a harbor seal hungrily in pursuit.
Barely another moment had passed when a six-gill shark flew by them in the same path seeking out the seal.
Hurray for an intimate example of the food chain.
Gary Larson couldn't come up with anything better.
OK. Maybe if he weren't freaking retired he could...

Another recent story was posted that a 10-foot six-gill was spotted.
That made even the more advanced divers wet their dry suits.
The more common six-gills in the Sound only reach to about 5 or 6 feet in length.
Maybe we've got an old-timer on our hands.