The sun was rising. Dawn came as we pulled into the parking lot of 40 Mile Point Lighthouse, site of dive 3. This time as we pulled our caravan into the parking lot, there were other people out.
This particular wreck, the Joseph S Fay, I had written about a month ago in preparation for this adventure. Kyle and I had already scuba-ed this site earlier in the week, and we knew it was the longest surface swim.
I had struggled with my surface swim on the previous wreck, tired from the searching we had done trying to locate the buoy the connected to the site. But this time, I spotted the buoy from shore.
So we dutifully suited up again, wet booties on the feet, wet hood on the head, soggy gloves. I brought my light, just in case I needed it in the low glow of the early sunrise.
We waded in, feeling like old hands.
The Fay had been great to dive the first time, and it was still fun the second time. The visibility is good, the wreck is interesting to look at, and there’s plenty of room for 15 divers to swim around and not land on each other.
We had a couple of tag-along divers this time, adding to our fun. It was great to have them nearby, lending their good energy to lift us up as well.
Because the sky was still pink and orange when we descended, the light below changed as well, painting the boards of the Fay’s deck with a different color than the last time I had seen it. I snapped pictures, but most were blurry. Not that it mattered, I was having a good time.
Our tanks were to be refilled after that dive, and knowing we had to get back to shore to unload, Kyle and I scuba-ed back to shore instead of surfacing and snorkeling back. It also meant that the sooner we got back, the sooner we would be able to put on dry clothes, eat, and use the bathroom for the first time in six hours. We were speedy in our return.
Other volunteers had set out coffee, bananas, yogurt, fresh picked Michigan blueberries and raspberries. One woman had even baked us homemade raspberry muffins. Were we a more emotional lot, I think we would have cried with happiness.
Steve returned our tanks, filled and ready for the remainder of the dives. We were fed, we were dry, so we packed up our gear, still damp.
The next leg was the longest portion, a drive of eight hours to Ohio, dropping below the Great Lakes to get to Lake Erie.