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MAYAN RIVIERA
Tourist Guide EJIDO JACINTO PAT EXPLORATION Cont.. Expedition
Portrait BY:
MICHAEL MENDUNO * as
published in tec.asia I.I * And
lay line they did in almost a daily ritual. It’s six forty in the morning. The first team of divers are busy loading supplies into one of the rusted motor pool vans at DeRosa’s for the day’s run out to the bush.
Fresh wound Dive Rite line. Plenty of water.
Bug juice, sandwiches and fresh battery packs. “Listen up.” Gerrard
hashes out the days’ assignments like a Seminole football coach on a
winning streak. Paamul Caribbean Paradise, Riviera Maya Q. Roo México
Slippery when wet, Bill Rennaker, Lee Gibson, and for the last two days, Rich Chapski the “country club set” are going to continue to drive their 1372 maters/4500 feet of side mount line from Hilario’s Well to the Caribbean. “Just goin’ with the flow,” explains
Rennaker. Easy for
him to say; they get to drive to the site.
No such luck for Ginnie Spring’s Steve Berman, Steve Irving and the “clean up crew” who are motoring dead end leads for their third and LAST day out at “Coffee Pot.” Or for “Line King” Canadian Bil Philips, who is gearing up to spank a new lead off of the New Frontier with Walten after reeling 229 meters/750 feet the day before. Steve Keene and Sue Sharples want to put in another five hundred
feet today on their “Kentucky Castle” march on Nohoch. The divers file
into the van. Staked
out at the remote beach head, an hour and a half in from Highway 307, the
jungle team is mobilizing. The air is already so hot that you can sweat
standing till. “Welcome to base camp.” Heinerth one of two U.S. greybeards who have been cave diving continuously for 25 years or more is crouched nearby on the makeshift krapper, “Would you mind getting me another roll of paper?” Kakuk scurries by with a toothbrush and battery charger in hand. Five days ago, the barefood Bahamian “no mounted” the connection from Macco’s Marvels (MI) to Kentucky Castle, adding nearly eight kilometers and change to the kitty. Quattlebaum is on the radio again.
Euro
tekkies, Chris Pyle
and Sandro Madeo are busy editing survey slates for Aussie map maker,
Rosemary Redgen, who is already beginning to sweat the day’s progress
over the table sized expedition map. Their easiest dive was yesterday. Compared
to tourist caving conducting exploration dives in the Yucatan, in June, is
no summer picnic. In addition
to dealing with the intense heat, swarms of mosquitoes, fire ants, ticks,
and poisonous trees whose touch will turn skin into a painful mess
resembling cheese pizza, the expeditioners often have to hike in an hour
or more along machete hewn paths. Though their rigs are usually left at the water’s edge, fresh tanks and batteries are shouldered out to the dive sites each morning the job of a dozen or so sandal ciad Mayan sherpas working on the project only to be shouldered back later the day for recharging. “We couldn’t do it without them,” confesses Quattlebaum, “A Mayan in the bush is worth ten gringos.” A fact that was born out of the day before when they failed to show. Only one team made it in the water. Double aluminum eighties mounted back or side style, depending on the assignment, along with one or two 80 cubic foot “air” stages and scooters, allow the explorers to push three to five hour bottom times in the cool 21°C/70°F water, up to three kilometers back in the cave. “You have to know how
far you can hang it out there,” explains Walten, “or you can get
yourself into a whole lot of trouble without knowing it.” Though decompression is minimal in the average 6-15m/20-50 f depths, frequent silt outs restrictions, constant percolation, “distance stress” the gnawing realization that you are hours away from the surface, equipment failures (repairing a primary regulator under water is not uncommon), and all of those little “gremlins in your head,” take their toll. “The
victory is a lot sweeter when you have to work for it,” says Walten, who
has miles of virgin passage under her belt, should know. Laying and surveying new line the booty makes the expedition go is a laborious business. The divers must first swim or motor an hour or more through the Disney like panoramas to the end of the line. Then the work begins. Hours
can roll on, reeling in, and reeling out of dead end passage no “weenie
lines” or getting nowhere at all. Until you hit pay dirt.
CONTINUE
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