Southwest Florida Open Spearfishing Tournament 2011

"Southwest Florida Open Spearfishing Tournament"

OR "Why Randy Docks Rocks"

Disclaimer: Please note that Scuba Diving and Spearfishing are inherently dangerous sports and should only be undertaken by experienced, well-trained divers. As you will read, there are unforeseen circumstances and choices to be made that can have sometimes irreparable consequences. You should never dive alone and your equipment should be serviced and experienced regularly. You should always plan your dive and dive your plan. You should discuss safety precautions, your plan, and contingency plans with everyone onboard BEFORE you dive. Communication among divers and operators is imperative. Please do not attempt anything mentioned or implied herein. The author is a Certified Divemaster, has been a certified diver for over 28 years with countless open water dives.

The Southwest Florida Spearfishing Club http://swflspearfishing.com puts on a great spearfishing tournament each year. Our spearfishing team, Team Dumpster Diver, is lovingly named for my dive buddy's boat. The boat, 'Mental Health', is an early 70s Bertram 28 Sportfish. Anyone who knows this boat knows that they designed the rudders a bit too small for the weight of the boat, and thus, it's steering response time is sluggish (being kind). Those of us who have piloted this behemoth (a compliment) liken being at the helm to trying to steer a dumpster. The name stuck. 

However, Team Dumpster diver tends to actually shoot its tournaments off a lovely retired 28-foot Mako law enforcement vessel owned by our Daytona Beach-based Captain, Chiung Tien. He and his usual first mate, Mike McKenney, are one half of the team, and Randy Docks and I make up the other half of the team. The team roster has changed here and there over the years as previous team members added to their families, switched coasts, or simply couldn't keep up the harried tournament pace that we refer to as 'Guerilla Diving'. 

Randy and I are the only remaining original members, and we've been diving together regularly for over 10 years. Anyone who has ever been in a relationship with either of us, including my wife of over 7 years, will tell you that we are moody, demanding, and both dominant personalities. You wouldn't think that two type-A personalities could be dive buddies. While there are certainly exceptions, there is usually one leader and one follower in any buddy team. The leader tends to be either the dominant personality or the more experienced diver. 

Somehow, Randy and I have learned not only how to put up with each other with relative ease, but also knowing how and when to lead or follow rather seamlessly without any ego interference. Again, anyone who knows either of us will imagine that pretty difficult to believe as we're both pretty competitive and one-upmanship is an art form between us. As an example, I once shot a 62-pound amberjack with a Riffe C2XS speargun on a 4-day liveaboard trip in the Dry Tortugas. I was extremely proud of my achievement until Randy one-upped me with a 70-pounder the very next day. Jibes and ribbing are a regular part of our dive rituals, and they may seem almost nasty to an unknowing outsider. It's all meant in good fun and I don't think either has ever offended the other.

All this being said, you now have enough background information for all this to make sense. On with the diving!

Randy and I arrived at Chiung's bachelor pad on the intracoastal waterway in Daytona Beach late Friday evening after driving separately - Randy from Coral Springs; me from Hollywood. Having injured my back the previous week lifting an art sculpture, I had spent most of the pre-tournament week at the offices of my physical therapist and my chiropractor, Dr. Rael Gilchrist (Care Medical Centers - HIGHLY recommended and, for the record, they're not a paid sponsor). The 4-hour drive had left me stiff and sore, but we unloaded the tanks from our vehicles and into the boat - 4 steel tanks each filled with varying mixes of Nitrox to accommodate the various depths we might encounter. 

We jumped in the boat and headed for the fuel dock in the dark. We had a great conversation with the dock attendant. He made the mistake of asking us what all the tanks were for, and we gladly obliged and lengthy answer that turned into a full-on discussion about spearfishing and spearfishing tournaments. I think we've converted that mild-mannered springs diver into a spearo. Over $300 in fuel and we were headed back to Chiung's. The rest of the evening was spent game-planning, consolidating our 3 oversized ditch bags into one to save space, and restringing my new Riffe C4XS teak speargun. 

After getting everything situated and finalizing our plans with Mike by telephone, we called it a night with Randy crashing on the couch and me on the floor with some pads and a sleeping bag. Unfortunately, this would prove to be a bad idea given my recent spinal issues. This coupled with another thing Randy and I have in common, snoring like gorillas, neither of us got much sleep and 5:30am came VERY early. We grabbed some bananas for breakfast and headed to the dock. While putting my dive bag into the dock trolley, I pulled the trapezius muscles on both sides of my spine. It literally took my breath away. I did some stretches against the railings and my dive buddies helped pick up the slack. Once loaded we were headed down the intracoastal toward Ponce Inlet. The waterway was calm, the pelicans were just awakening, and Randy and I tried to catch a little nap in the beanbag chairs Chiung so generously supplied. 

DIVE ONE

I did some meditation and tried to focus on calming the spasms along my spine as well as setting our intentions for big fish and a safe day of diving. Over 20 miles offshore, we arrived at our first dive spot, which is essentially a small ledge rising ever so slowly off the sea bottom to a height of about 5 feet. It's essentially a crack in the sea floor where one edge is higher than the other. Chiung skillfully positioned the boat on the spot via GPS and Mike tossed the marker buoy into the water on cue. Randy and I geared up and rolled backwards into the drink.

Randy and I used to diving in South Florida with the coldest of water temperatures typically in the 70s. A 3-mil is the thickest wetsuit we're likely to wear, even in winter. We might add a beanie hood when it gets chilly, but in Daytona, we're wearing 5-mil suits and full 5-mil hoods. The catch is that the temperature on the boat is in the 80s, so you're sweating and getting almost overheated while you're gearing up, only to plunge into what feels like an ice bath. Then, as you descend, the clear surface layer gives way to a scum layer and then a thermalkline - a cold layer of water that you can literally feel and see as you descend into it. 

We followed the buoy line down loading our spearguns along the way. The visibility was only about 20 feet and I had lagged behind a bit. The only thing I could see of Randy were the yellow surface markers rolled up and attached to his fish stringers. This allows the diver to send fish to the surface in case the 'Tax Man' shows up. This is a term most spearos use to refer to sharks. While we don't see them all the time, they do come in to get their 'fair share' in the form of a free meal, or at least an attempt at one, from time to time. We wouldn't see any sharks during this trip; a disappointment and a relief simultaneously.

As we reached the end of the buoy line, we regrouped, gave each other that knowing look and headed for the ledge. I saw a large snapper circling ahead of me and I took a bead while assessing the size and species. Red Snapper is currently out of season, so it's important to know what you're shooting BEFORE you pull the trigger. I could hear Randy's telltale muffled "Nuh-Uh" as I, too, realized this was a good-sized red snapper. I turned my attention on a nice sheephead and pulled the trigger for a gill-shot. While I was putting my first fish on the stringer, a 7-pound sheephead, Randy was eyeing a bigger target. I was clipping the stringer when I heard Randy's Deathstick (brand name, not nickname) go off. 

I looked up to see a cloud of sand and Randy running his hand down the shock cord to a big swirling snapper. This would turn out to nearly be a Florida State Record as a 15-pound mangrove snapper. I moved passed Randy to find another snapper popping in and out of the ledge. This one's profile looked correct (not like a red snapper) and I let the spear fly. As I got the fish in hand, Randy was swimming by me. At this point, my snapper had gone completely silver, which is a telltale sign of red snapper. I pointed to the fish with a questioning look on my face in a rare moment of doubt. Randy mistook my pointing at the fish and shrugging as I was bragging, so he shook his head, "Yes" and swam to the next spot. Before I could get reloaded, Randy was fighting another big snapper. With the sheephead and the snapper both bleeding on my stringer, I decided to send it up. I opened up the surface marker (aka Safety Sausage), inflated it and sent it upward to be picked up by the boat. I heard the boat engine speed up, so I knew they had seen it and were moving to recover it.

Remember what I said about each of us working together and knowing when to lead or follow? This method of hunting is basically like playing leapfrog. You leave the guy with the fish and the coral head he just shot it at and move to the next spot. This leaves him free to double-check the spot before moving on to the next one. Randy and I have never discussed this, it is just something we both do automatically. It's essentially a courtesy - to let the other guy finish off a spot without swooping in and picking off something he may already have in mind or have seen skulk into a particular hole.

I spotted a legal grouper with a 'hair cut', which means someone has attempted to spear it, but it pulled off and is now wounded. I figured Randy must have missed this one, but I had designs for a bigger grouper at another spot we had planned, so I didn't take the shot. Instead, I picked up another mangrove snapper, this one turned out at 8 pounds. I reloaded with a bit of trouble having gotten my flashlight tangled in my shock cord - something I should have remedied, which will become important later. As I recovered and reloaded, Randy approached me with 3 big snapper on his stringer. He grunted through his regulator and pointed behind me where I found a surface marker that had become detached from my stringer and was now rolling along the sea bottom. I picked it up, reattached it to my stringer, and checked my computer. We had been at 105 feet long enough and it was time to surface. I signaled to Randy and he agreed. I sent the second snapper to the surface to lighten my load. 

As we ascended from the bottom, we realized we were entering a swarm of jellyfish. The jellies were 3 to 5 inches across with tentacles streaming under them sometimes 4 to 5 feet long. Mostly protected by neoprene, I turned my back into the current so they would wash over me as I headed up. As we often do, we ascended facing each other about 10 feet apart. Unfortunately, a tentacle from one of the jellyfish wrapped itself firmly between Randy's upper lip and his regulator and sent a searing sting. This would continue to irritate his lip the remainder of the day with a scab actually forming the next day. We completed a 3-minute safety stop to help our bodies process the nitrogen in our bloodstreams before finally breaking the surface and signaling the OKAY sign to Chiung and Mike sitting watch near our bubbles while we're under. They picked us up without incident.

When entering the boat, Randy and I walk forward with our gear to keep the cockpit clear. Chiung and Mike's gear were already set up and ready to go. Randy and I got out of our gear and discussed whether or not the site was worthy of a second dive. Randy and both believed it was, so we positioned them near the buoy and down they went. About 15 minutes later a large safety sausage breached the surface with a large silver-white figure attached. This turned out to be Mike's nearly 40-pound amberjack. Chiung hit the surface with a nice gag grouper and a smaller legal amberjack. Unfortunately, the marker had actually dragged the bottom and was some 100 feet from the ledge. When they reached the bottom, they followed the drag marks back to the ledge. They lost valuable time and were somewhat winded fighting the current.

While the second half of our team was under (2 Up / 2 Down), Randy and I switched tanks and got re-situated for our next dive. This included putting color-coded zip ties in our fish and putting them in the cooler... after a photo-op, of course. 

DIVE TWO

After running West a bit to our next stop, we geared up for a spot that had produced a sheephead and a gag grouper for each member of the team last July. The viz (visibility) was good here, and because the depth was only 80 feet, it was also significantly brighter. The downside is that, while we could see the fisher further away, they could also see us coming. The spot produced two doormat-sized flounder for Randy along with a nice sheephead. I shot another big sheephead, but he spun off. I ended up finding a ledge filled with snapper and sheephead and aligned my one shot to bag one of each. It took me a minute to get them out from under the ledge and the shaft emerged, Randy was right next to me, apparently headed my way to render assistance, if necessary. This time it wasn't, but it was nice to know that, as always, Randy had my back. 

We swam through the swarms of juvenile fish looking for more opportunities, but finally decided to call it a dive. Our relatively short surface interval left us with a shortened NDL (no decompression limit) on this dive. We surfaced through a smaller school of jellies. The water column during our safety stop was absolutely gorgeous and bright blue. We both spun around slowly keeping an ever-watchful eye open for cobia and sharks. We would spend these 3 minutes devoid of any sea life other than jellyfish. The water was clear enough for the boat to actually see us, so they were doing laps around us just waiting for us to surface.

This time, we suggested Chiung and Mike not bother with this spot. We ran a pretty good distance over to a new spot with concrete culverts on the bottom. They had seen cobia on this spot the week before and wanted to give it a go. They would come up with a number of snapper and some sheephead, but no cobia. For our next dive, Chiung suggested a shipwreck for a better chance to pick up amberjack and/or cobia. Randy and I agreed. I had filled my snapper and sheephead categories for the tournament and was now setting my sites on grouper, cobia, and amberjack. While hogfish were also a category, they're fairly rare in the Daytona area, so we weren't expecting much in that department. 

DIVE THREE

We arrived at the site, and Chiung and Mike ever so skillfully used the GPS to drop the marker right where it needed to be, next to the wreck. He gave us both instructions on places on the wreck they had seen grouper in the past, including directions on a cubby hole in the nose of the bow where they had seen a big grouper. Randy and I descended into a milky fog and didn't see the wreck until we were almost on top of it. I was slightly ahead of Randy in categories and let him lead to where Chiung had suggested. Unfortunately, his instructions were a little off. Randy and I arrived at where we expected to find a torpedo hole and instead found solid hull. We both looked at each other a bit puzzled. I thought perhaps I had heard "port" instead of "starboard" and went to investigate. Randy went down the port side and over the aft part of the ship in search for entry points.

I rounded over the bow and toward the pilothouse. I swam through and didn't see much lurking in the dark. I swam back to the bow and decided to descend through an open hatch on the front deck. As I slid into the darkness, I saw two large porkfish making a speedy exit. I turned on my light, which was tethered to the chest D-ring of my BCD, and I spun around to assess my surroundings. I found the torpedo hole right where Chiung had suggested, except about three quarters of the way up the ship instead of along the bottom, as Randy and I both had understood. I looked around for any sign of Randy, and not finding any, I decided to check the cubbyhole. Sure enough, there was a big grouper sitting right where our knowledgeable captain had instructed. 

At that moment, I heard the telltale boom of a Goliath Grouper. I would learn later it was Randy moving through a cargo hold and surprising one. The boom is a sound they make by contracting their massive muscles and flapping their gills closed. If you've ever been near a Goliath when they boom, you realize that you can actually feel it as well as hear it. I didn't feel it, but the boom coupled with the darkness had me double-checking the grouper to ensure it wasn't a juvenile Goliath. I shined the light on him looking for any of the brown skin or dark spots and to try to see if I could see whether or not his tail was square or rounded. A quick rule of thumb is that if the grouper has a rounded tail, you cannot shoot it. Nassau Grouper and Goliath Grouper both have rounded tails. Most other groupers, excluding scamp, have a squared tail. 

The angle the fish was in made it impossible to see the tail, but he was camouflaged entirely black. I made a quick assessment of the rest of the cubbyhole to make sure there wasn't an even bigger fish in the back, only to see a beautifully colored Queen Angel Fish busily trying to find an exit. I returned my light to the grouper, took aim at his forehead, and squeezed. The cubbyhole exploded with sediment, and I saw the thrashing form trying to break free. I ran my left arm through the bands of my Riffe C3XS all the way to the shoulder while grabbing the shock cord and following it up toward the shaft. The shaft was clearly stuck in the wreck and the grouper was thrashing about pretty vigorously. I had, of course, let go of my flashlight to use both hands to grab the fish and the shock cord. I pinned the fish between my left hand and either the wreck or the end of the shaft and slid my right hand into his gills, turned him upside down, and pulled him toward me.

At this point, I realized that he was pretty well tangled, and so was I. Only seeing by ambient light, I reached down for a stringer. The shock cord was also wrapped around the stringer so I had a little difficulty getting it unhinged. I pulled a bit harder on the grouper and could feel the line dragging as I did indicating that it was wrapped and tangled, but not knotted - a good sign. Unfortunately, my light had gotten entangled in the shock cord, so I couldn't see much. To make matters worse, having the light entangled also meant that I couldn't put light on the lanyard side of the flashlight to figure out how to untangle it. Taking a second to think it through, I positioned the fish so the flashlight would reflect off the fish and back toward itself so I could unloop it successfully. I got the stringer through the fishes gill and out his mouth and secured the clip. I slipped my left hand into his gills and my right hand started moving toward my gauge console.

Knowing that I was pretty well embedded in the wreck, my years of experience told me that I needed to fully assess my situation. This precise moment and my next thoughts and actions could have a profound impact on the ending of this story. It is at these moments that so many divers make bad choices or simply lose their calm and panic with dire results. The keys to any situation you encounter while diving is to always keep yourself calm and think through your options. A simple entanglement can turn into something deadly in mere moments.

In assessing my predicament, my first look was to my computer. I had 16 minutes of bottom time left - PLENTY! My next look was to my pressure gauge, which showed 2500psi - GOLDEN! I took a calming breath and readied myself for the business at hand; getting myself out of this rusting steel tomb and back to open ocean. In my assessment, my worst-case scenario was cutting myself free and losing a $75 steel spear shaft - truly a small price to pay for my safe return the surface. My plan was to first quiet the restless fish to decrease my task load and limit the potential for attracting predators. Secondly, I would attempt to free myself for a few minutes, and if unsuccessful, I would cut the line and head up. 

Like most divers, I am a creature of habit. I put my gear on the same way each time, take it off the same way each time, and pack it with equivalent monotony. Doing so creates patterns that get ingrained and allow you to react from instinct rather than having to think through each step. I carry a dive knife on EVERY dive, without exception, even if I'm just getting in the water to cool off. You never know when a sneaky piece of monofilament might find its way around you. I had just added a set of dive shears to my BCD's cummerbund, so I have redundancy should I not be able to reach something or if I were to lose something along the way.

As I slid my right hand down my right calf for my knife, a halo formed over my shoulder from above. Before I could determine whether or not I was having a religious experience, Randy appeared through the hatch and floated down beside me. He looked at me and the tangled mess as if to ask for guidance. I pointed toward the shaft, pulled on the line so he could see it was stuck. That signal was all he needed. He calmly and meticulously surveyed the cragged landscape and found a safe path toward the shaft, which was firmly embedded in the rusting metal.

I put my hand through the lanyard and pulled out my knife in one fluid movement - a move I've made dozens if not scores of times. A single insertion and twist and my catch was done thrashing about and pushing me to and fro into beams and other sharp structure. Dropping the knife from my grasp, the lanyard held it firmly within close reach. I unfastened the swivel at the end of the shock cord releasing the line and pulling it backward out of the fish. I ran my fingers over the line from back to front to see if there were any loops or knots. At much the same moment, Randy emerged from the cubbyhole, with the spear freed and handed it back to me. He waited patiently for me to get everything reconnected, gave me the OKAY signal, which I returned. He paused as if to assess my condition to make sure I wasn't just reacting. He could tell I was calm and collected, so he then slid out through the torpedo hole as if floating on a breeze surrealistically like an angel through a hole in heaven.

When I told this story later on dry land, I referred to Randy as 'My Guardian Angel'. Again, anyone who knows him is probably laughing hysterically right now. While making light of the situation, I sincerely thanked him for the helping hand. I had done similarly for him last July during the Spearboard Open when a grouper had threaded his shock cord through a maze of beams and pipes on a deep wreck at the outskirts of recreational diving depths. He had returned the favor, though neither of us have or would ever keep tabs. Granted, if it were a repeat occurrence, I'm sure one would take the other aside for a serious heart-to-heart on dive safety.

All kidding aside, THIS is precisely why there isn't another person I know with whom I'd rather scuba dive. Having not seen me for a couple minutes, he went looking. Having seen a steady flow of bubbles coming from inside the wreck, he came in to investigate. He didn't assert himself and try to take over, as I've seen many other divers do. Instead, he looked first for an indication of whether or not I looked like I was in trouble. Not finding panic on my face, he knew I wasn't in danger. Looking for guidance and receiving it, he went to work helping me without pushing a particular agenda. Once everything was okay and we exchanged the OKAY sign, he moved on to the purpose of our dive - spearing fish. 

There are plenty of guys I enjoy diving with, but Randy is my Guerilla Diving buddy. When the going gets tough, and we've got a definitive purpose, we both appreciate having someone in the water with us who truly knows how we will react to almost any situation or marine encounter. We frequently dive on Randy's boat (The Dumpster), and usually with other divers. In these cases, we generally split up, each one of us choosing to lead the dive and the divers we're with and leaving the other on the boat to man the helm. There's a great deal of comfort in knowing your Captain will be there when you surface. Chiung and Mike have also proven themselves time and again in this regard, and we happily return the favor.

Free and composed, I was ready to get back to business. After one more look around to make sure a curious snapper hadn't shown up, I turned off my light and moved toward the exit. When I exited the hold and came over the top of the wreck, I inflated my surface marker and sent the grouper topside. By the way, we use yellow for fish and red to mark ourselves coming up so the boat knows the difference. 

Coming toward the stern I saw a steady stream of bubbles and a Deathstick flowing tethered in the mix. I realized Randy had picked up a fish; a nice sheephead. I swam by to see if he needed help, which he did not, so I continued around the wreck once more. I could hear the boat running overhead most likely picking up my fish, which turned out to be a 16-pound gag grouper. Nearing the end of our time on the bottom, we both crested the top of the wreck to await incoming amberjack or cobia through the schools of baitfish and spadefish that were swarming overhead. No joy. We decided to end the dive and ascended slowly trying to stay in or close to the school, just in case.

As we clicked through the time at our safety stop, we both noticed the waves seemed a bit heavier. When we popped our heads up out of the water, we could see that a squall had settled in and had been beating our teammates ragged while we frolicked below. We gave the OKAY sign to the boat, and as Chiung pulled the boat closer, he yelled to us to inflate and remove our BCDs to make it easier to get back into the boat with the huge waves pounding around us. They picked up Randy on the first pass and came back for me on the second. Handing my tank up, the wave practically floated it into the boat. 

There were white-capped waves everywhere, a howling wind, pounding rain, and a 20-degree drop in temperature. Chiung made the call to end the trip and we headed back in toward shore. Over two hours later, shivering, cold, and wet from the pelting rain, it was nice to see the inlet. We would soon be back at the dock unloading the boat, loading our vehicles, and assessing our catch. A bit of sleep, a 4:30am alarm, and a 4-hour drive later, we arrived at the weigh-in in Fort Myers.

My parents and my 89 year-old grandmother attended the weigh-in with us. It was the first time they had been to a spearfishing competition, and they were impressed by the camaraderie and the variety of fish and competitors. It was a lot to take in, but they seemed to fit right into scene. It was a great joy to have them there with us cheering us on, and we appreciated their taking time out of their day to spend it with us - fish guts and all.

Chiung and I placed in the Top 10 of the tournament and the team did well overall. If not for a 30-pound Cubera, Randy would have taken the biggest snapper trophy. For want of another 6 ounces, I would have had largest sheephead. Chiung filled the most categories with all except cobia and hogfish, and Mike's amberjack was in the running for a while also. We all got our turn at the prize table and spent quite awhile filleting fish after the tournament. 

After all, we don't shoot anything we don't plan to kill, and we don't kill anything we don't plan to eat. After portioning, my personal catch will provide 30 meals for my wife and me, friends, and family. We eat fish usually more than 3 times per week, so nothing will go to waste. Even the trimmings were returned to the sea as food for smaller fish, and of course, the pelicans begging at the dock. Unlike line fishing or most types of commercial fishing, I am in direct control over the exact species and size of the fish I harvest. We've seen a lot of whacky fishing regulations and closures in recent years, which we pay special attention to along with other changes in bag limits, closures, size requirements, and aggregate limits. While the politicos often make things up as they go along, scientifically based regulations are welcomed by just about every diver and fisherman I know. We all know that conservation of this fragile resource is imperative if future generations are to enjoy not only our sport, but also the occasional fresh fish for dinner.

Dive safe and fair winds.

        

24-Inch Red Grouper - Hollywood, FL

Unable to find another last minute diver, my buddy, Ty, and I decided to do a little anchor diving. It was the first decent wave weekend day in quite awhile, and we wanted to make the most of it. We left the dock around 9am and made our way to our first dive site. Unfortunately, there were several dive boats trolling across the wreck, so we opted for a shallower dive elsewhere.

We anchored up near the Hollywood Outfall, which is located just North of Hollywood Boulevard right off the beach. Just in case you're not familiar, an 'outfall' is a nice way of saying sewer pollution disbursement pipe. There used to be dozens of these up and down the Florida coast pumping millions of gallons of near-raw sewage waste into the ocean every day. Most of the municipalities have since shut them down, but there are several that are still active including the City of Hallandale Beach and one up near Pompano and Boca, but I don't specifically know who operates it.

If you've never been diving on one of these sites, it is certainly an eye-opener. Having accidentally come across the Hallandale Outfall Pipe some years ago, I would never dive one of these active sites on purposes. Picture a large round pipe with a plume of thick smoke pouring out into the water, except that instead of smoke, it's dark, stinky sewage. The reef life around it is usually dead, but the fish life is usually pretty abundant with some of the largest Bermuda Chubs I've ever seen in my life swimming in schools through the plume of effluent. YUCK! Needless to say, I immediately started swimming upstream.

Installing one of these now would NEVER make it past the EPA, let alone the reef protection groups, etc. Unfortunately, neither of us had an underwater camera or I'd be happy to post photos. The pipe is a HUGE steel pipe, some of which are larger than 3 feet across. However, it is weighed down to the sea bed by way of a matte of interlocked concrete blocks. They make almost a road bed along the bottom. The sad part is that they laid these blocks across whatever happened to be in the way - including coral heads and rock formations.

In the years since, some of the steel rods that hold the blocks together have rusted through, usually where there is a lot of stress on them such as a lump created by laying over a coral formation. This creates small perforations in the matte that create a crevice, which allows fish to swim in and out at will. In some of these sections, there are caverns that are several feet wide, a foot or more high and dozens of feet long - perfect habitat for a variety of reef fish who gather in these areas now.

The Hollywood Outfall Pipe, now inactive, has simply become part of the habitat. On this particular day, most of the fish life was gathered on the North side of the structure, perhaps to be on the lee side of the North-flowing current. I saw a nice dog snapper slip into one of these crevices, so I lined myself up and waited. Within a few minutes, it emerged again and found itself on the end of my spearshaft. I repeated the process twice more. Three snapper on the stringer; not a bad dive. I also saw a very large yellow jack and a just-over-legal king mackerel, but both were out of range. Ty picked up two lobsters hiding amongst the matte.

I had promised Ty to show him a spot that two of my other buddies and I had found a few months earlier. On that trip, we landed 11 lobster and several fish on one dive. After a little trial and error, we located the area and dropped in together. Ty dives with a scooter, so he tends to cover a lot more ground than I do, even with my Omer Millennium Longfins. I prefer to take it slow, cover less ground, but take more time to see everything I can. On this trip, it paid off.

I was on the bottom for all of about 45 seconds after following the anchor rode down to the bottom. Grouper will frequently move toward an anchor when it hits the bottom; perhaps to check out the commotion or the poof of inevitable sand. We had anchored in a sandy spot right next to the reef line. Rather than follow the reef line, however, I saw a small outcropping over the top of the edge. I swam toward it and spooked a grouper. He shot off across the reef light a lightning bolt. I kicked hard to try to catch him, but knew that if he kept up the pace, I'd never get close.

His first burst of energy subsided and he paused just long enough for me to take a long-range gill shot, which hit its mark. A perfect shot, he had little opportunity to escape as the flopper on the Hawaiian Shaft I was using on my Riffe C3XS had opened on the other side. He thrashed toward a coral head, which I thought meant a bent shaft for certain. Instead, he turned a somersault and I was able to grab him before any damage was done. Ty showed up behind me just as I was locking the red grouper onto my stringer. I did a little happy dance to which Ty rolled his eyes and kept cruising.

I continued scouring the reef looking for more fish. My wife had sent me on a mission as our freezer was nearly empty. Too many bad weather days left me no previous opportunity to replenish our seafood supply. I was a little disoriented because the clouds kept going in and out obscuring the sunlight. However, the first lobster I found were sitting in a small cave that I had found on that previous dive trip. You can see video of the cave - full of lobster - here on my YouTube page: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fG7oIK2q4LQ

As soon as I saw the sponge, I instantly had my bearings and knew where to find more fish and lobster. I picked up a total of 6 lobster, the 24-inch grouper, and 2 nice Spanish Mackerel before getting a little chilly and deciding to head back to the boat. God had shown us abundance today, and I thank him as I made the 100-yard swim back to the boat, compass in hand. The scenery had been amazing, the seas calm, the water a little cloudy, but perfect for spearfishing. If the water is too clear, the fish see you well before you either see them or before you could get in shooting range. Most importantly, both divers returned safely to the boat without incident.

All in all, another great day diving in paradise.

Hollywood Black Grouper

19.5lbs / 32-inches Black Grouper
Shot in 50 feet of water off Hollywood Beach, FL

One of my regular dive buddies wanted to try out his new (1970s) Bertram 28, so we loaded it to the gills with 6 divers and ran South of Port Everglades inlet. Divers included Ann Scutti, Eric, Ted Tanglis, Chip Edmonds, Randy Docks, and me.

Chip had a secret spot loaded in his GPS and off we went. The current has been running South all week, so we jumped in the water just North of the spot. The bottom structure was varied and included a variety of sea life. The visibility was awful for our area clocking in at maybe 25 feet. Unfortunately, this was to be the best visibility we would have all day and dropped as low as 15 feet on our third drop.

The first wave of divers were Chip, Ted, and me. Chip picked up a few hogfish along the way for an upcoming barbecue, and Ted missed another hogfish. We weren't seeing as much as we had hoped, but continued drifting South with the current. We started our dive on the deep side of the reef and as time moved on, we came in a bit shallower to check out that section of the reef and also to lengthen our bottom time. As we were cruising along around 55 feet I saw the oddest thing - a four to five-foot pine tree standing straight up on the bottom.

Upon closer inspection, it actually appeared to be some type of marine plant, but it was as close to an underwater pine tree as you can imagine. There were pipefish and a variety of smaller fish living among the branches. As I swooped in to take a closer look, I noticed a small yellow jack at a cleaning station getting the parasites removed by small blue goby-type fish. As I finished looking over the curious 'tree', I moved in the direction of where the jack had been. He had already moved on; most likely spooked by the three dark figures loudly blowing bubbles and moving in his general direction.

As I passed over the cleaning station, I noticed a small cloud of dust, which is usually a tell-tale sign of hogfish. I started looking intently for the little critter. We were heading West toward the apex of the reef when I noticed a much larger cloud of dust. This was either a very large hogfish or perhaps a grouper. Needless to say, my radar was on full alert and I was scanning the bottom as far as the visibility would allow. Up ahead, I saw a small divot in the reef bottom complete with a few ledges. I let out a breath and sank silently toward the first ledge. It was a nice overhang, but wasn't even deep enough for a lobster.

I passed this overhang and kept moving onward. Immediately after the small overhang, there was a good-sized hole. As it came more into view, I could see a large squared tail poking out. GROUPER! There was so much particulate matter in the water that I first thought it was a red grouper. Either way, this one was certainly more than legal size. (Black Grouper @ 24" and Red Grouper @ 20" - Red Grouper in the Gulf @ 22"). I moved slowly passed in line with the hole, but could not see inside it. I checked the rear of the dorsal fin for any spots just to reconfirm that it wasn't a Nassau Grouper, which are protected here in Florida. Nassaus also have a slightly rounded tail so I was not surprised that there weren't any dots. I estimated about where the head should be and pulled the trigger on my Riffe C3XS.

The hole exploded with a huge cloud of dust. As the shaft of my speargun disappeared into the hole, I knew it had found its mark. I quickly ran my left hand through the bands and pushed the gun up to my shoulder to secure it and keep it out of the way. The gun is buoyant without the shaft and the butt of the gun conveniently floats upward and behind. In the same motion, I had grabbed the shock cord and started pulling moving toward the hole. I could no longer see the shaft, so I followed the line all the way to it. I could feel the grouper pushing deeper into the hole and trying to wedge himself into the rock.

Grouper use this tactic regularly whenever they feel threatened. This is why line fishermen have to react to a strike instantly; if they hesitate, the fish will run into a hole or under a ledge. The fish inflates its air bladder to puff itself up and barricade itself in the hole. As the fisherman yanks on the line, the line usually frays against the rocks and soon breaks. Even with a steel shaft, the fish will try the same course of action - usually bending the shaft among the rocks. As deep as this hole must have been with the shaft not even being visible, I knew I didn't have much time. I grabbed the spear firmly and started to pull. I could feel the fish puffing up and trying to wedge himself in, but I kept pulling. In short measure, the spear shaft started coming out, and the fish with it.

The cloud of dust was huge now and I couldn't see a thing. I ran my hand up the spear until it reached the fish. Doing this sets the Hawaiian flopper that has hopefully exited the other side of the fish. I felt it lock in place and started moving the fish out of the cloud so I could begin to work at securing my catch. I reached my left hand under the fish and into its gills. The gills are fairly spiny and if you get a gloved hand inside with a solid grip, you're unlikely to lose the fish if it shakes free of the spear. This is especially true if you also are holding the fish upside down simultaneously. With the fish securely in my left hand, I reached with my right to open my stringer. I dive with a medium metal stringer most frequently that is clipped off to my Dacor BCD on a D-ring at my waistline. I opened the stringer and slid it through the gill and out his mouth. In one motion, I closed the stringer - now the fish is truly secure.

Experience has taught me that with larger fish, it is best to get them actually on the stringer before you remove the shaft. One swipe of a grouper's powerful tail and he can free himself of just about any hold you might have on him, save a good gill grip. Once secure, I reached the spear tip, pulled it through just a bit to disengage the flopper and then slid it back from whence it came.

Many divers will finish up with the fish before reloading their guns, but again, experience has taught me that whenever you're wrestling with one fish, there are often others coming in for a closer look to see what is happening. Mutton snapper are notorious for this. I reached up my left shoulder with my right hand to where the bands were still holding the gun in place. I slid it down my arm and reloaded the shaft into the gun. I clicked on the safety and proceeded to reload the 3 22-inch bands.

As I finally looked up from my work, I noticed my two dive buddies just sitting there watching the whole thing unfold. They had already been scanning the surrounding area for curious fish; no luck this time. Chip looked at me with wide eyes and motioned his hands like applause.

Black grouper are a prized catch among spearfishermen. They are typically pretty skittish especially when it comes to divers. The bubbles we exhale are actually pretty noisy and tend to spook many fish species. Even sharks tend to shy away from divers because of the noise. Granted, when there's blood in the water or fish thrashing around, loud bubbles are hardly enough to keep a large bull shark at bay.

I reached down to the inside of my right calf and grabbed my knife. The grouper was yanking on the stringer trying to free himself. After several motions with the knife, the fight was over and three families would eat grouper tonight.

As we finished the dive, I picked up a nice Spanish mackerel and then Chip called the dive with 750 psi. We didn't want to max out our bottom time so we could do a decent second dive. Randy, Ann, and Eric were in next and each came up with a nice hogfish. This was Eric's first time in the water with a speargun, and a hogfish is a great first catch!

After the second wave returned to the boat, Chip, Ted, and I went in for our second dive. We covered a lot of ground, and Chip and Ted both got hogfish. Given the size of the fish I landed on my first dive, I was very selective about shooting on this dive. I occasionally pointed out fish to my two companions, but never pulled a trigger. As is often the case during summer in Florida, a quick summer storm materialized and our dive was cut short by three tugs on the flag line I was towing above me. This is a signal we use when the guy running the boat wants to recall the divers. We also use an engine signal - revving the engine three times in succession within earshot of the divers.

As the three of us surfaced, we could instantly see the storm - the sky was black and there was lightening in the distance. No arguments here; we all climbed aboard and we were headed into Port Everglades within minutes. We got rained on, but hey, it's a dive trip - you're going to get wet anyway. Regretfully, Randy, Ann, and Eric did not have an opportunity at a second dive. That just means they'll get the first round the next time we go out.

All in all, it was a nice day for diving. That's the great thing about Florida, even on the few days where the visibility isn't stellar or the weather picks up, we're still diving some of the nicest bottom in the ocean. I dived in the Bahamas and in Mexico, but there's something to be said about being able to dive during the day and sleep in your own bed the same night.

All the best,

--Branon

Spearboard Open 2007

My buddies and I plan every year to attend the Spearboard Open Spearfishing Tournament (SBO) in New Port Richey. It's a great tournament that draws spearos from around the country - not only for great prizes, but also for it's unique rules.

SBO rules allow divers to shoot fish anywhere within driving distance of the weigh-in point. We've had entries from Texas, Louisiana, and the Carolinas. The rule is that you can only shoot during daylight hours on Saturday and you have to be in line at the weigh-in point on Sunday morning without flying in your fish. The other catch is that participants can only enter fish that are legal to spear and are legal size in Florida. So, as much as the guys from the Carolinas would love to bring down some of their big permit and pompano, Florida law doesn't allow taking either species by spear, so they're not PERMITted in the tournament, if you'll pardon the pun.

One of my usual dive buddies, Randy Docks, and I enlisted a couple other buddies (Matt Doty, Joe, and Ann Scutti) and opted this year to dive in the Florida Keys. Last year, Randy and I chartered out to the Middle Grounds (75+ miles off the Gulf Coast near Tampa) and decided for something a bit closer to home.

We chartered with 'Dive In' located in Key Largo on the ocean at MM-97.5. If you fill the charter, Dawn Barber and her crew will take you just about anywhere you want to go. Otherwise, spearos are permitted as room allows on the boat and depending on which trip you take.

NOTE: The Florida Keys has very specific rules about where you can and cannot take fish by spear - make sure you know the rules before you go spearfishing on your own.

We opted to dive the Duane and the Bibb - a couple of artificial reefs (purposes sunken ships) famous for hot current, deep water, and great fish habitat. Our shallowest dive of the day was a freedive from the surface to pick up a trigger fish and the deepest dive of the day was around 136 feet - obviously pushing the limits of recreational diving. However, all of our divers have experience in deep water dives and better still, deep diving with spearguns.

Most of Florida this particular weekend was being thrashed with high seas. Tournament participants on both coasts were pounded with thunderstorms and heavy seas upwards to 8 feet. Not much fun when you're loaded with diving gear and sharp pointed objects. Many regular charter boats and die-hard spearos never left the dock, which made competition a bit lighter than normal.

However, the weather gods blessed the Florida Keys with unbelievable weather that weekend. We had average seas of 4 to 6... INCHES! Seas were nearly flat calm all day (see photos), plus the water was warm and visibility was pretty good given the storms we had been having in recent weeks.

I landed a nearly 20-pound black grouper (See photo in my profile), 1 nearly 8-pound hogfish, a decent mutton snapper and mangrove snapper, 2 trigger fish, and a small 6-pound yellow jack. My tournament total came to 46.92 - not great, but good enough to put me in a good position for the prize table.

Special thanks to Armor Products who donated the VERY cool gear bag that I picked up at the prize table. I had been looking for a new bag to replace my worn out backpack and this certainly did the trick. It's an oversized duffle with adjustable backpack straps. Perhaps the nicest feature beyond the durable mesh material that allows the bag to drain is that it is long enough to carry my freediving fins and still have room to spare. It also came with a full-width dry bag - very unusual size, but perfect for my miscellaneous dry stuff.

Randy came home with a nice black grouper and hogfish, Matt had an excellent hogfish, and Joe brought in a very nice yellow jack and a few snapper. Ann was our 'bubble watcher' as she was recovering from a recent surgery. However, it was great to have her on the boat making sure all of us stayed hydrated and organized. Thanks Ann!

We did a total of 4 dives each, most of which were at 100 feet or deeper. Of course, with deep dives, your bottom time is relatively short, so we were back on the dock gutting our catch right around 5pm. We made the drive back to my house, switched vehicles, and then headed up to New Port Richey. We stayed overnight with some friends and after a nice breakfast, took a leisurely drive up to the weigh-in.

While there weren't as many competitors this year as in years passed because of the weather, the numbers were still huge. The biggest fish categories were all exceptionally nice offerings and as usual, many of the divers donated their catch to the local food bank.

The price table was actually a walk-through tent this year with LOTS of booty including dozens of spearguns, gift certificates, dive gear, fish artwork, and much much more. Special thanks to the folks at Spearboard and Spearfishing Magazine for organizing another great event!

We hope you enjoy the photos half as much as we enjoyed bringing up those truly yummy fish.

All the best,

--Branon

Welcome to Florida Spearfishing!

Welcome to Florida Spearfishing, a blog written by divers with a passion for spearfishing.

Whether you're a blue water hunter, reef spearo, freediver or scuba diver, we'll have something here for you.

As your host, I'll make certain we keep you posted with various spearfishing happenings around the state, including various tournaments, club features, and regulation changes. I've lived and have been diving in Florida most of my life. I started diving at age 9 and earned my first certification at age 13. I'm now a certified Divemaster (PADI) and an avid spearfisherman.

My 'stick' of preference is a Riffe C3XS with a Riffe reel and a Hawaiian flopper shaft. My back-up gun is a stock Riffe C2XS with a rock tip. For blue water, I switch my C3XS to an icepick tip, breakaway kit, and a solid float and float line. I also have a small collection of vintage spear guns including an old Rene Cavallero and a Nemrod Falcon Mini.

I dive most frequently with friends on private boats including the 22 Biddison Center Console docked behind my Hollywood house called "No Teak" (named for a lack of teak brightwork on the boat, not against denigrating our favorite teak spear guns). We take "No Teak" out of the Port Everglades inlet and have a good buddy in Pompano and frequently dive out of the Lighthouse Point/Hillsborough inlet. We also dive with a variety of charter captains who cater to spearos.

If you're ever in the Fort Lauderdale/Hollywood area and want to do some spearing, keep me in mind. I'm always looking for a good reason to play hookie.

And of course, if you have any questions or would like to post an article, please drop me a line at Branon@ScubAHH.com

Let's go spearfishing!

All the best,

--Branon