By Tom Campbell

Chapter 1
The Set Up

  The Tortugas are islands lying 60 miles west of Key West, and the reefs adjacent to the islands are one of the best places in the world to spear fish. Each year I travel with Spearfishing and Sportsman Club members to the Tortugas, and we always come back with a bunch of fish and lobster. But more importantly, we get to spend some quality time with some outstanding people who have all arrived at their love of the ocean through different paths. It is just those differences that make each trip so rewarding and interesting.

  This year, Sheri Daye and I (Tom Campbell), planned a trip on March 9-12, 2000, with a total of six divers on a boat called the “Playmate”. Sheri, Richard Rice, and I belong to the South Florida Spearfishing Club and have been on a number of trips together in the past. Sometimes we can get a little competitive, but we always celebrate each other’s successes. The new guys included my friend and financial advisor, Walter Burns, and two guys we didn’t know yet (Pete and Kelly).

  Everyone knows that Richard Rice always gets the most fish, but we had a plan to change that. I devised a three-pronged plan that would unseat the spearfish king. First there was the training; Sheri and I went through a rigorous three-week swimming workout program to get us in better shape, so we could out swim Richard to the fish. Second, there was the ringer; we would team Richard with a diver that would slow him down and spook the fish. And third was the artillery; Sheri's birthday gift from Dave Earp and Skeeter, a double-barrel spear gun that Rambo would be proud to carry.

Sheri and her Rambo speargun

I have to admit that the spearfishing competition was somewhat of a diversion that I conceived of to keep Sheri from dwelling on her pending divorce from Paul. I knew she was worried that the trip would bring back memories of last year’s trip when Paul and Sheri dove together on the Playmate. However I could tell that diversion was only partially successful; I didn’t like to see my friend hurting.

  Sheri and I traveled down to Key West, first stopping at Divers Outlet in Key Largo to pick up last minute supplies. I bought a large nylon fish bag to carry all of the extra fish that we were sure to get.

  We met up with Richard and Walter Burns in the Eat It Raw Half Shell Bar for dinner, one of Key West's fine dining establishments. Richard and Walter were getting along just fine having bonded on the way down the Keys; that was good, because, unbeknownst to Richard, Walter was the ringer.  Now, Walter is a good friend and a good diver, having dove all over the world, but he hadn't spearfished in a while and had to take his speargun out of mothballs before the trip. Also, Walter has this unusual laugh that I was hoping would chase away Richard’s fish underwater. As added insurance, I told Walter that my level of future investing with his financial investment firm would be directly related to how well Sheri and I did in the spearfishing contest

  We all went to Sloppy Joe's bar for the traditional pre-trip drink where we heard some rude songs that Richard somehow knew the words to. Rum Runners was not much better with some old fat guy playing guitar and singing songs that I knew the words to; boy, I had to get out of there! The last stop was Rick's Upstairs Dance Emporium where we were treated to techno music as we tried to drink up the $9 cover charge. We all danced a little; actually, I danced a lot because the alcohol had turned me into a good dancer, and I could tell the way people were staring at me.

  Sheri looked tired and started staring off into space.  She had pulled an all-nighter the previous night at work, so I knew it was time to leave even though I hadn't shown her my best dance moves yet. On the way to the car, we passed Sally, the guitar playing Janis Joplin Sound Alike, who is famous for singing and acting out the Duval Crawl, a dance Conchs do after being over served in Key West bars. We listened to her raspy rendition of Bobby McGee from the street for a few minutes until Sally made a move in my direction, then we bolted for the car because I didn't want her to sign my butt as she usually does to slower moving male patrons.

  Walter and Richard said that they went to the library after leaving Rick's, undoubtedly to read up on advanced spearfishing techniques. Can you believe the dedication of those guys to the sport; talk about bonding! I didn't realize that the library was open that late in Key West.

  We arrived at the boat at about 10 PM and started to load our gear onto the boat. I suspected that Richard was on to our scheme when he accidentally pushed my tank into the water. It landed in the mud, valve down. Richard retrieved it with a lasso and handed it over to me almost good as new, but I could still see some mud in the valve. That trickster!

  Sheri's name was posted on the door of the best private suite on the boat, as it should have been since it was her trip, it was her birthday, and Captain Bob is sweet on her. Since I had helped set up the trip, I was looking around for the first class cabin reserved for me. But the name on the door was Werner, not Tom. Now, there was no one named Werner on this trip that we knew of. I just figured that Captain Bob, who doesn't seem to like me that much anyway, simply forgot my name. So I opened the door to place my stuff in the room only to find that the real Werner was already sleeping in my bed!

  Not to worry, there were two other suites on board and the three of us investigated them, quickly. Pete Jackson, and his dive buddy Kelly, had already claimed the bigger forward berth. By a process of elimination we found that we were all stuffed into a single unmarked room, where we envisioned that the name "Three Stooges" had just fallen off the door.

  Preparations for the first night sleep proceeded quickly as each of us figured that the first one asleep would not hear the other two snore. Since I slept well and didn't hear any snoring, I guess I won the race.

Richard, Sheri, Tom and Walter on the deck of the Playmate

The next day, we awoke as the Playmate steamed toward Rebecca Shoals where we would do our first dive. I thought of how good my wife Cath was to me after 27 years of marriage, to let me go on this trip; I will have to pay later. If you are reading this Cath, I love you; please don’t make me pay too big. Fortunately, Cath’s cousin Joan, who she hadn’t seen in 20 years, was visiting that weekend, and my absence allowed them to catch up on old times. It is good to have family.

  Audra, our cook for the trip, was serving a large breakfast of eggs with bacon mixed in and a bunch of other stuff that I couldn't eat for fear that divers indigestion would attack me. Audra was one of the nicest persons I believe I have met on the six Tortugas trips I have taken. Audra treated the five scruffy guys who showed up at breakfast, unshaven and smelly, as if they were kings. She was so sweet that I felt bad when I refused to eat breakfast each day. Melanie, the first mate, joined us in the galley during breakfast. Melanie was the cook on last year’s trip, and since then had worked and studied hard and soon would take the test to get her 100-ton captain’s license. Captain Bob told us to give her a hard time because she would be taking care of everything for us. We could see that Bob was proud of her and that he had been a good mentor over the past year.

  The boat was laid out perfectly with the compressors, generators, water makers and icemakers located in the engine room. This left the deck clear for diving with no fumes or noise. It turned out that Werner was the carpenter of the boat and a real gentleman. Werner had a German accent and was probably ten years older than me and in great physical condition, except for the head cold he had which would limit his diving during the trip. He was largely responsible for the boat being as ship shape as it was.  Once I realized that, I didn't mind Werner sleeping in my bed as long as I was sleeping somewhere else at the time; I think you know what I mean.

  Our first dive was on a section of Rebecca shoals where coral island pinnacles rise out of 60 ft of water and top out at 35 ft. The water was cool and the visibility was poor, allowing us to see only about 40 ft of the reef at any time. We approached the reef from the west and could see a large coral head that formed a canyon that Sheri swam into, and I temporarily lost site of her, as the reef appeared to swallow her up. I heard her gun go off so I swam around the other side of the canyon to see that Sheri had her first fish, a good size gray snapper.  

  I was watching her subdue and bag the fish when I noticed that I was not alone, a black grouper was hanging right next to me watching what was going on. The grouper was temporarily mesmerized by Sheri and did not notice as I fumbled with my spear gun and attempted to bring it around towards him. I was trying to act nonchalant and even started to whistle to keep the fish at ease, but Mr. Grouper looked concerned. He started swimming away, first slowly, then more quickly, and by the time I lined up on him, he was swimming at full speed headed for a cave that he knew I would not be able to fit in. I shot, and the spear hit the mark, although the fish did not cooperate and proceeded to swim in circles stirring up silt and tangling me in the line. I was able to get the fish under control and bag him, but it was not clear when we were finished who had caught whom. As Sheri helped me untangle in the gloom of the greenish turbid water, we both worried about sharks but they didn’t come, not this time. 

  Back on the boat, we found that everyone had done well on the first dive and we all held up our catch as a smiling Captain Bob took pictures with Sheri’s new digital camera that she got from her parents for her birthday. So far we were keeping up with Richard and Walter.

  For the remainder of the first day, we dove four more locations winding up in the Tortugas after lunch. Richard and Walter were starting to do much better with three to five fish coming up each dive, compared to our two to three. At first, I thought Walter was letting me down but then I realized that something else much more diabolical was going on. Captain Bob was deliberately dropping Sheri and I on some unproductive sites, because he didn’t like Sheri’s new spear gun!   You see, Captain Bob had also given Sheri a present of a speargun that she was not using. He was obviously jealous that Sheri continued to use the Rambo gun and was trying to demonstrate to her that using the Captain Bob spear gun would have been a better choice. That’s right, we were victims of spear gun envy.

  During the day, we got to know Pete and Kelly. These guys were always ready to dive and almost always first in the water. Kelly has a quick smile and a carefree personality; he was easy to like. On one dive, the hose broke on his first stage, and Kelly made a free ascent from 60 ft down. He said he remembered to breathe out when his lungs started to hurt on the way up. Pete was a true man of the sea; when he was a Captain on a long line fishing boat in the north Atlantic, he would be away from home months at a time chasing monster fish. He lived in the Keys for a while and moved to Boca Raton where he fishes and dives every chance he gets. He likes to dive with his 14-year-old son, Robby. Pete did extremely well on the Tortugas dives and landed the biggest black grouper of the trip.  

Chapter 3
The Big Dive

That evening, Audra prepared a great dinner, which disappeared quickly.  We were exhausted, but before we all retired, Sheri sweet talked Captain Bob into agreeing to put Sheri and her dive buddy (he still doesn’t know my name) on the most primo spot of all, where we could get a 60 lb black grouper. That night, as I slept in one of the Stooges beds, I dreamt about how great it was going to be to come back to the boat with that 60 lb grouper and flop it on the deck, beat my chest and share the euphoria of success with Sheri. Captain Bob was a good guy after all, even if he hardly acknowledged my existence. In fact, he was the prince of captains, the crème de la crème. Bob for president!

            The next day, we were excited as we prepared for our special dive. Sheri gave me her back up lift-bag that unfolds to a long extendo-tube when deployed, so I could shoot the big grouper to the surface once we got it. I attached it to the front of my weight belt like a scarf a princess gives to a knight before the battle. This was the nautical equivalent of Camelot, and I, Sir Lancelot of the Dive Tables. As we prepared to leap from the back of the boat, Captain Bob came down from the bridge to give us a final briefing. He told us to look for three black groupers, not one, and by the way, we may see a shark. “Splash”, we hit the water, “did he say shark!?” No matter…Sir Lancelot is not afraid of no stinking shark.

  As we descended to the reef, we could see that Captain Bob was right; three big black groupers were swimming freely all around the reef. And there was more, two large hogfish were just hanging out on top of the reef winking at us.

  I got real excited when, inexplicably, my extendo-tube prematurely deployed. Hanging from my belt was a six-foot long tube that made it hard to swim and, frankly, was a little embarrassing. I tried to act as if it was no big deal, but Sheri kept pointing at me, and I hurried to fold it up again so we could still catch the fish. Now, I can’t fold these damn things up on the boat, never mind at sixty feet down. Then I realized that Sheri wasn’t pointing at me, but at a huge bull shark that had joined us on the reef. Then there was another shark coming from the opposite direction, and a third shark swimming in herky-jerky motions all around the reef. How could we possibly salvage this dive? Hell, I was still playing with my tube over here. 

  Then it dawned on me that we might be able to turn this rapidly deteriorating dive plan into a success, if I could keep my wits about me. I would attach the semi-deployed extendo-tube to the handle of my spear gun, put a little air in it, and shoot one of the groupers. I would then let go of the gun, and the grouper would pop to the surface before the sharks would even know what happened. Sheri saw what I was doing and backed away from the action out of respect for the macho maneuver.  After I put some air in the lift bag, the handle of the spear gun would slowly rise up, and I had to jerk it down every now and then to regain control of it. I realized that I was simulating the herky-jerky motions of the shark, the supreme hunter. I looked up at Sheri and gave her the high sign as I jerked the spear gun down one more time. I could sense that Sheri was smiling probably because she was proud of me.

  Apparently, my shark-like jerky motions had cleared the reef of fish, but I knew that the big one was hiding in the large cave up ahead.  As I approached the mouth of the cave, I could see that there was something big inside, but it was too dark to see it clearly. It was time to steel my nerve and show Sheri what I was made of. I held my breath, released the safety on the gun, then swam deftly…jerk, quietly…jerk, into the bowels of the reef. A big jerk and I was in.

  As my eyes slowly adjusted to the light I could see that the big fish was not disturbed by my attack and held its ground. All righty then, it would be mano-a-mano, a test of the will; this fish didn't know who he was dealing with. I realized that my momentum would take me face to face with the big beast for the perfect kill shot.

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Walter the Hunter (Tom’s former financial advisor) with Melanie and his Scamps

  Something was seriously wrong here; this fish was too big and wide to be a grouper. The blood drained from my head when I realized that this was not a grouper, but the biggest bull shark I had ever seen. I froze and started backing away; slinking out of the cave my extendo-tube deflated, I joined Sheri for a slow ascent to the surface. My opinion of Captain Bob was slowly changing again.

  Back on board, Melanie was marking and storing a bunch of fish, including a large Black Grouper that Pete had shot. Walter brought back two beautiful Scamp Grouper that he was real proud of. Richard had a stringer full of fish, including a big hogfish and some lobster. When Melanie opened my bag, all she found was a crumpled extendo-tube that I had stuffed in there. Captain Bob just smiled.

  At lunchtime, Captain Bob shared with us his theory of why it was OK for he and Kim, his honey of several years, not to get officially married. It seemed that he and Kim had reasoned it all through and the piece of paper would change nothing, so why do it? I suggested that he wouldn’t be talking about it if he were that sure. Sheri felt that marriage was sacred and an important testimony to their love and blessing of their lives together. (I was thinking that). Werner said that he would like to see Kim and Bob get married because it was the right thing to do, and he was the surrogate dad here. In the face of all of this testimony, Bob seemed to decide to take the plunge and asked Sheri and Richard to be the best men. I don’t think I was even invited. 

  After lunch, diving improved, and we saw a lot of incredible reef structure, a bunch of lobster and some decent fish. On one dive, Sheri and I saw what must have been a 600 lb Jew Fish swimming next to a ledge. On another dive, Kelly got confused as to where he was supposed to find lobster, but Captain Bob set him straight. 

  Just before the last dive, Walter shared with us some of his experiences from when he was a pilot during the Vietnam War, flying A6 Intruders off of an aircraft carrier for bombing missions in Laos and Cambodia. When asked to recount his scariest experience, he recalled his very first bombing mission in Laos, when he saw 37 mm anti-aircraft fire directed at his plane from the ground. He took evasive maneuvers, expelling chaff and peeling off to the left. Don Sleppy, his navigator was looking through a hood watching the radar screen when the aircraft lurched left, scaring him half to death; that’s the last time the radar hood was used. He later realized that the ground fire was indiscriminate and not aimed at his aircraft because they could not see him with his lights out. Walter later flew much more dangerous missions, but the memory of the fear he felt on that first flight stayed with him.  Werner listened intently to Walters’s stories and engaged him in discussions of aerial combat strategy and aircraft. With Werner’s German accent it was like listening to the Red Barron talk shop with Snoopy.

  At the end of the second day, Sheri and I did a rough count, and we were behind in fish, but we had one more day to go, and we were in good condition for the end game. After a good dinner and some pleasant conversation, we retired, ready for the final challenge.

Chapter 4 
The Final Challenge

   We had good reason to be hopeful as we steamed to the Marquesas, because last year we cleaned up on fish there. However we passed by the best fish sites due to bad visibility, and our hopes started to diminish.  Our first dive was over the flats and not very eventful, but Sheri and I got a couple of nice fish. Back on board, we found that we were the only divers with fish and things were looking up.

  The last couple of dives were on the barrier reef drop-off where the water depths range from 50 to 100 ft. This area is known for Red, Black Grouper and Snapper, according to Captain Bob, but they can be spooky. 

As we descended on our last dive, the visibility was low and the reef was bathed in an eerie diffused light. We saw some blacks, but they apparently had listened in on Bob’s briefing and scooted for deep water before we could line up a shot. Using a special net that Sheri had manufactured, I caught two lobsters. 

  I saw a good size Cero Mackerel in the mid-water column, and waited for him to come within range.  I lined up and shot and hit the fish right behind the gill plates. After a small struggle he was in the bag. 

Out of nowhere, a hammerhead shark swam over Sheri’s shoulder and started circling us. With their eyes at the end of their T-shaped nose, the hammerhead is probably the strangest looking beast in the sea. It can also be the scariest site for a diver, especially when we are holding fish. We could see that he was following the swirling blood trail left by the Cero Mackerel in the bag. This shark showed no fear of us as he came by as close as a few feet away.  I removed the nylon catch bag from my belt and dropped it to the bottom. The hammerhead seemed more interested in us than the bag. He would swim out of site and back into view a number of times as we ascended. When we surfaced, I was worried about keeping track of the shark and looking for the boat at the same time. Sheri and I would alternately look up and down to protect us from possible attack. Captain Bob apparently recognized the surface behavior of shark worried divers and sped to pick us up quickly. As I climbed on to the Playmate, I realized that Captain Bob is not such a bad guy after all.

  Back at the dock, we cleaned our gear and counted the fish. Richard and Walter beat us by a half of cooler of fish; I still don’t know how Richard does it. As for Walter, I need to talk with him about divesting.

  Somehow, the experiences of the trip, and especially the people that shared the time with us, made the competition for fish seem unimportant (probably because we didn’t win). I was glad to see that Sheri had a great time. It was fun diving with and getting closer with Walter and Richard. I know that Pete and Kelly had a great time and hope they will continue diving with us back home.

  Many thanks to Captain Bob, Melanie, Audra, and Werner for making the Playmate the great dive boat that it is, and for making our trip something really special.

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