blobbottlebob
Well-Known Member
Hello people. My latest story. I have a few disclaimers. First, if you've never read them, my stoires can be quite long. This one is no exception. I hope it is entertaining but I just wanted to give you fair warning. Second, I related one of the incidents discussed in this story fairly recently. If you have read every post I made recently (and don't want to hear it again), you can skip the section that is titled TRIP ONE. Lastly, I would love to hear any thoughts or feedback. Hope you like it, Bob
Lucky Lake By Bob Libbey
Luck is a fickle thing.
One day, while out diving, I decided to start my tank at a depth of fifteen to twenty feet. I’m sure I had a reason, but I can’t recall exactly what it was. When I sank down, I hit the bottom at twelve feet. Rather than surfacing, I decided to quickly swim deeper along the bottom. As I was changing location, I kicked hard with my fins and pulled myself along with my hands. Without realizing it, I had inadvertently placed my palm on an object and had unwittingly picked it up. It was probably a rock, but I decided to take a glance. I was shocked to see a rare 1870s vintage mineral water. It would be hard to argue that I wasn’t flat out lucky. I never even saw that bottle until I was holding it.
We’ve all experienced some luck. Sometimes on our treasure hunts things go well. We find a great bottle under-priced at an antique store when we just stopped in for a minute. We find a bottle too old for the area we are searching sitting in an obvious and exposed position. A connection comes through with something we’ve been hoping to acquire. In all of these examples, one concept remains constant. We had to do something, be somewhere, put ourselves in the right position, to make the luck work.
Rockbot on the forum (Aloha Rocky!) has a tag line below his name that goes something like this, “CHANCE FAVORS THE PREPARED MINDâ€. [/i]That is, preparation, research, and experience are tools that can help you increase the odds that you will get the great find or the steal of a deal. You wouldn’t have cashed in on the antique store bottle if you hadn’t stopped AND known its value. The trip to the dirt pile only pays when you work the dirt pile, etc . . .
Conversely, however, doing the right things doesn’t necessarily mean that you will get lucky. That’s the fickle part. You can do everything right and still go home empty handed. (I often do). However, in order to get lucky, you have to be in the right place, doing the right things.
Luck, like many antique bottles, has multiple facets. What some people think is lucky, others might find distinctly unlucky. Even the same incident can be viewed from different angles. For example, in a car accident where someone broke their arm, one person might think that it was really bad luck that the person was injured. Another, however, might think that it was really good luck that they walked away alive.
The lake that I am calling ‘Lucky Lake’ has all of those aspects for me. I have made four trips to Lucky Lake to date. Only one has been normal and uneventful.
LUCKY LAKE
Lucky Lake has beautiful richly colored water. It has the deep blue-green aqua color that you so often see on antique bottles. I’m not sure why the lake is that color (because it is unusual). It may be the result of invasive zebra mussels that have found their way in. Many lakes here have zebras, though, and don’t have that color. So, maybe it has always been that way. Regardless, the water looks tropical and inviting.
There is public access to the lake. I assume this was made to qualify for a share of the state’s funds set aside for lakes with such access. All waterways, by state law, are considered public property even if they are land-locked by private owners. So, the state offers money to lake associations that allow entry into the water.
Before my first trip, I did a little reconnaissance. I drove to the public parking area where the access is located. The first thing you notice is that there is no place for trailer parking; only car slots. The parking is up on a bluff or a hill. You have to walk down a series of railroad tie steps to approach the water. There is no way to drive a boat down. Therefore, any boat must be carried from the small parking lot. That would limit the type of boat to small vessels such as kayaks, canoes, or diminutive row-boats.
TRIP ONE
My first dive trip was a bit late in the afternoon. As soon as I entered the water, I realized that the entry point was located in a swamp. There was a foot of water above thick deep stinky mud. To get through it, I inflated my buoyancy control device (hereafter “BCDâ€) and leaned up on my float. (The float is an inflated inner tube that follows me along at the surface). I was able to crawl over the mud through that entire bay and make it out to the lake proper.
Out in the water, I kept popping down and seeing a featureless moonscape bottom. I found a few anchors but little else. Eventually, I swam to the far shore. All of that swimming at the surface was really prolonging my tank. By the time I got over there, it was already getting dark. I searched around and found a few bottles, nothing great. It was dark now and the sky was filled with stars. I had a pleasant swim back towards the swamp.
Once I reached the swamp, things turned ugly. My float was weighed down with anchors and no longer supported me in floating over the muck. I had to walk through it. Step by step, my feet sank deeply into the mud. I had to reach down and grab my thighs with both hands to pull one leg out. Then I stepped forward and repeated the process with the other foot. It was exhausting. Standing there panting in the dark in the mud, I saw a sheriff’s car shine a spotlight down on the bog. Obviously, he’d seen a car parked in the lot and was planning on telling the occupants that the access had closed; it was time to leave. He did not see me. A half an hour or so later, I dragged myself up on shore. I tore off my sweaty slime covered wet suit and began to pack up my gear.
TRIP TWO
It took a plan and about a year before I worked up the notion to dive Lucky Lake again. This time, I was diving with a buddy, Lynn. Lynn came up with the idea that we could launch her little row-boat and float right over the shallow bog. Then, we could row wherever we wanted on the lake. It sounded like it could work.
On the day of the dive, I picked Lynn up and we drove together. Her row-boat was made of aluminum and it was surprisingly light. My guess is that it was eight feet long and it weighed forty pounds soaking wet. I easily carried it down to the water alone. Once there, it became readily apparent that we would not be able to fit two adult divers and all of that gear in this tiny boat. We decided to inflate our BCDs and then to toss them into the water. We would tow them across by their hoses hanging over the side of the boat. This gave us more room but created a lot of drag.
The next thing working against us was the weather. There was a strong head wind pushing us right back towards the launch. With one small set of oars, I planned to rifle us across as quickly as possible. I put my back and legs into my strokes. After significant time and effort, I noted that we had not traveled very far. I watched the shoreline as I rowed. With each motion, I gained a foot or two. However, in the time it took to move the oars, I lost half of it back. We were truly creeping along at a snail’s pace. My hands were getting brutalized but I couldn’t ease up for fear of losing all of that shoreline. Somewhere along the way, the rain started. It wouldn’t affect us much underwater but it was annoying on the way over. I picked the closest area that looked like it had potential and told Lynn we’d dive there. After about an hour of hard rowing, we finally reached the spot.
Lynn, to her excitement, found her first ever Hutchinson soda. It was fairly common but you can’t control what you find. I, on the other hand, did not come up with much. I caught a large carp bare-handed (which was just weird). I showed it to Lynn and released it. Then a homeowner came down to the water apparently annoyed that we were there. She asked what we were doing. I always try to make as good of an impression as I can on people while in the water. I will look for lost items if someone asks or take the time to talk about water conditions if they are interested. After all, my hobby relies on people tolerating me rooting around. I explained what we were doing and offered that she could have anything that I found. She took everything (which was mostly eco-clean up) and left. I went back to diving.
After about three quarters of an hour in the shallow water, we began to see some lightning flashes in the sky. We decided to cut our tanks short and head back. I was dreading the rowing because my hands couldn’t take much more abuse. Luckily, with the wind, the return trip was much easier. I left the lake with no finds and about a half dozen oozing blisters on both hands.
Then a monsoon of rain fell on the region on the way home. Because it rained so hard, flash flooding occurred. The result was closed roadways and terrific congestion. What should have been a three to four hour total trip, wound up being over nine hours.
THE LAST TRIP
My last trip to Lucky Lake wins the prize. I have rarely told this story fully for fear that my wife would get really upset at me. She would have legitimate reason to be angry because what I did was really dumb. I should have never placed myself in the position that I was in.
It was a Sunday morning in early June. The day before, the Milwaukee area had seen one of the worst storms in recent history. As I recall, something like ten inches of rain had fallen on Saturday resulting in tornado warnings and flooding. I had been itching to go diving, so I awoke early and checked the sky. It was blue and beautiful, the calm after the storm. I did not take advantage of any of the vast resources available to check the forecast (such as the internet or the weather channel). A gorgeous blue sky was enough for me. I packed my gear and drove to Lucky Lake.
When I arrived, it still looked like a nice enough day, but it was getting a bit cloudier. I suited up and crawled over the boggy swamp like I did on my first trip here. No blisters today. I intended to dive in a new area on the lake and swam over. Before long, it began to rain. No big whoop. I kept on diving. In fact, I was swimming further away from my entry point. The water was clear and the visibility was quite good. I remember seeing some bass and watching them for awhile. I wasn’t finding too much but I was enjoying the dive. Every time I popped up, though, the weather looked worse than the last time. The lake was getting choppy. The rain was getting heavier and stronger. The trees were swaying with powerful gusts of wind. I vowed to stay under where the weather wouldn’t bother me. Then I saw a really bad omen; lightning flashes. While underwater, I could see the lake light up from the strobe-like activity in the sky. I needed to get out and get out as fast as possible. Every idiot knows that electricity and water do not mix. I was, however, a good quarter of a mile from the beginning of the boggy swamp that was my way out. Worse yet, even on the best of days, it would take significant time and effort to get through that muck hole. I’m guessing at least ten to fifteen minutes to cross it alone.
I set a compass heading back and started to swim along the bottom towards the swamp. It was only about five feet deep. I kicked hard and pulled myself along. I was forced to confront the very real possibility that I could be in the water when lightning struck. I was definitely in the wrong place at the wrong time. I wondered what would happen if it did. Not that I really wanted to find out, mind you, but I was thinking about it. From what little I knew, I’d have guessed that it could easily be deadly. Would an aluminum tank attract electricity? Metallic objects are good conductors and I had one on my back. Obviously, I needed to be back on shore way before the weather had gotten this awful.
Then I had a different thought. Lightning couldn’t be as deadly as I feared. If it was, there wouldn’t be any fish alive in any of the lakes. Metal pier posts had to be frequently struck by lightning yet the lakes were still full of fish. Maybe the force of a strike is localized to the area where it hits and then it dissipates in the water? Of course, even at that time I realized that what I was doing was hoping and rationalizing. It would be far smarter not to be guessing with your life on the line.
Then I saw it and felt it at precisely the same time. It was both a flash and a jolt together. Lightning struck. It would be impossible for me to separate the flash of light from the sensation of the electric current for they were exactly simultaneous. Scientifically, I might have wondered if there was a gap between the flash of lightning and the onset of current similar to the gap between lightning and the sound of thunder. If such a gap existed in my case, it was too small for me to perceive it.
I felt the current mostly on my face and mouth although there were traces of it on my body as well. The sensation was similar to the feeling you get from any electric shock from a socket or a battery except that it was on my face. It was not painful and I was not injured.
I do not know how far away the lightning actually struck or even if it hit the water. I was at the bottom when it happened. It could have been close-by. However, with the ground soaked from the rain, the current may have carried into the lake from a more distant strike. I guessed that I had felt the current near my mouth because I had a regulator (with internal metal pieces) between my teeth. Later, upon reflection, I realized that almost my entire body was covered in neoprene rubber from my wet suit, gloves, hood, and boots. Only the area around my mouth was directly exposed to the water. That might better explain why I felt current where I did.
Despite my calm description here, I was very scared at the time. This was no joke. Lightning can and does kill people. In a bit of a panicked rush, I turned directly towards the shoreline before lightning could strike again. Oddly enough, I found a hutch without trying while clawing my way in. I climbed up on the grass and removed my metal tank. As I looked at the sky, the storm was raging and it showed no signs of letting up. I didn’t know it then, but it continued to rain all day just like it had the day before. The continuous rainfall intensified the flooding in the region. This was a set of storms that caused major damage.
Gradually, I looked around as I waited for the storm to abate. I could see that I had climbed ashore onto a very nice property. The owners had placed a large metal sculpture between their spacious house and the water. I truly did not want to be trespassing. My parents live on a lake. I can imagine how mortified they might be if some all black wet-suit wearing ninja dude crawled up onto their property from the water like the creature from the black lagoon. I hoped to go un-noticed until the storm passed and I could swim back to my car.
Then I heard them calling to me. The couple that lived there were calling me over to the house. They had opened what looked like a garage door on the lake side and were waving me to them. I walked over and they immediately offered that I could come in out of the rain. I told them that I didn’t mind getting wet in my scuba gear. They next offered me towels. They offered me food and drinks. They were so sweet, and kind, and friendly, and neighborly. I just couldn’t believe it. I told them that my whole goal was not to be a burden or to bother them in any way. As they continued to offer any assistance they could, they asked if I needed a ride to my car. There was no way I was going to get their car all wet and mucky but then I realized what I could ask for. I said, “Do you mind if I leave my gear here for a minute and walk back to the parking area to get my car?†They certainly did not mind. This saved me the swampy swim back through the bog and kept me from risking another lightning strike in the water. I couldn’t possibly thank them enough!
I walked back to my car and returned to load up my gear. Later, I talked with a fellow bottle collector named Peter and discovered a huge coincidence. He grew up and was friends with the son of the people who had helped me. It really is a small world. I was able to contact them and thank them again for being so kind and helping me. They graciously offered that I could come and park there anytime I wanted to go diving.
Man. Am I ever lucky.
Lucky Lake By Bob Libbey
Luck is a fickle thing.
One day, while out diving, I decided to start my tank at a depth of fifteen to twenty feet. I’m sure I had a reason, but I can’t recall exactly what it was. When I sank down, I hit the bottom at twelve feet. Rather than surfacing, I decided to quickly swim deeper along the bottom. As I was changing location, I kicked hard with my fins and pulled myself along with my hands. Without realizing it, I had inadvertently placed my palm on an object and had unwittingly picked it up. It was probably a rock, but I decided to take a glance. I was shocked to see a rare 1870s vintage mineral water. It would be hard to argue that I wasn’t flat out lucky. I never even saw that bottle until I was holding it.
We’ve all experienced some luck. Sometimes on our treasure hunts things go well. We find a great bottle under-priced at an antique store when we just stopped in for a minute. We find a bottle too old for the area we are searching sitting in an obvious and exposed position. A connection comes through with something we’ve been hoping to acquire. In all of these examples, one concept remains constant. We had to do something, be somewhere, put ourselves in the right position, to make the luck work.
Rockbot on the forum (Aloha Rocky!) has a tag line below his name that goes something like this, “CHANCE FAVORS THE PREPARED MINDâ€. [/i]That is, preparation, research, and experience are tools that can help you increase the odds that you will get the great find or the steal of a deal. You wouldn’t have cashed in on the antique store bottle if you hadn’t stopped AND known its value. The trip to the dirt pile only pays when you work the dirt pile, etc . . .
Conversely, however, doing the right things doesn’t necessarily mean that you will get lucky. That’s the fickle part. You can do everything right and still go home empty handed. (I often do). However, in order to get lucky, you have to be in the right place, doing the right things.
Luck, like many antique bottles, has multiple facets. What some people think is lucky, others might find distinctly unlucky. Even the same incident can be viewed from different angles. For example, in a car accident where someone broke their arm, one person might think that it was really bad luck that the person was injured. Another, however, might think that it was really good luck that they walked away alive.
The lake that I am calling ‘Lucky Lake’ has all of those aspects for me. I have made four trips to Lucky Lake to date. Only one has been normal and uneventful.
LUCKY LAKE
Lucky Lake has beautiful richly colored water. It has the deep blue-green aqua color that you so often see on antique bottles. I’m not sure why the lake is that color (because it is unusual). It may be the result of invasive zebra mussels that have found their way in. Many lakes here have zebras, though, and don’t have that color. So, maybe it has always been that way. Regardless, the water looks tropical and inviting.
There is public access to the lake. I assume this was made to qualify for a share of the state’s funds set aside for lakes with such access. All waterways, by state law, are considered public property even if they are land-locked by private owners. So, the state offers money to lake associations that allow entry into the water.
Before my first trip, I did a little reconnaissance. I drove to the public parking area where the access is located. The first thing you notice is that there is no place for trailer parking; only car slots. The parking is up on a bluff or a hill. You have to walk down a series of railroad tie steps to approach the water. There is no way to drive a boat down. Therefore, any boat must be carried from the small parking lot. That would limit the type of boat to small vessels such as kayaks, canoes, or diminutive row-boats.
TRIP ONE
My first dive trip was a bit late in the afternoon. As soon as I entered the water, I realized that the entry point was located in a swamp. There was a foot of water above thick deep stinky mud. To get through it, I inflated my buoyancy control device (hereafter “BCDâ€) and leaned up on my float. (The float is an inflated inner tube that follows me along at the surface). I was able to crawl over the mud through that entire bay and make it out to the lake proper.
Out in the water, I kept popping down and seeing a featureless moonscape bottom. I found a few anchors but little else. Eventually, I swam to the far shore. All of that swimming at the surface was really prolonging my tank. By the time I got over there, it was already getting dark. I searched around and found a few bottles, nothing great. It was dark now and the sky was filled with stars. I had a pleasant swim back towards the swamp.
Once I reached the swamp, things turned ugly. My float was weighed down with anchors and no longer supported me in floating over the muck. I had to walk through it. Step by step, my feet sank deeply into the mud. I had to reach down and grab my thighs with both hands to pull one leg out. Then I stepped forward and repeated the process with the other foot. It was exhausting. Standing there panting in the dark in the mud, I saw a sheriff’s car shine a spotlight down on the bog. Obviously, he’d seen a car parked in the lot and was planning on telling the occupants that the access had closed; it was time to leave. He did not see me. A half an hour or so later, I dragged myself up on shore. I tore off my sweaty slime covered wet suit and began to pack up my gear.
TRIP TWO
It took a plan and about a year before I worked up the notion to dive Lucky Lake again. This time, I was diving with a buddy, Lynn. Lynn came up with the idea that we could launch her little row-boat and float right over the shallow bog. Then, we could row wherever we wanted on the lake. It sounded like it could work.
On the day of the dive, I picked Lynn up and we drove together. Her row-boat was made of aluminum and it was surprisingly light. My guess is that it was eight feet long and it weighed forty pounds soaking wet. I easily carried it down to the water alone. Once there, it became readily apparent that we would not be able to fit two adult divers and all of that gear in this tiny boat. We decided to inflate our BCDs and then to toss them into the water. We would tow them across by their hoses hanging over the side of the boat. This gave us more room but created a lot of drag.
The next thing working against us was the weather. There was a strong head wind pushing us right back towards the launch. With one small set of oars, I planned to rifle us across as quickly as possible. I put my back and legs into my strokes. After significant time and effort, I noted that we had not traveled very far. I watched the shoreline as I rowed. With each motion, I gained a foot or two. However, in the time it took to move the oars, I lost half of it back. We were truly creeping along at a snail’s pace. My hands were getting brutalized but I couldn’t ease up for fear of losing all of that shoreline. Somewhere along the way, the rain started. It wouldn’t affect us much underwater but it was annoying on the way over. I picked the closest area that looked like it had potential and told Lynn we’d dive there. After about an hour of hard rowing, we finally reached the spot.
Lynn, to her excitement, found her first ever Hutchinson soda. It was fairly common but you can’t control what you find. I, on the other hand, did not come up with much. I caught a large carp bare-handed (which was just weird). I showed it to Lynn and released it. Then a homeowner came down to the water apparently annoyed that we were there. She asked what we were doing. I always try to make as good of an impression as I can on people while in the water. I will look for lost items if someone asks or take the time to talk about water conditions if they are interested. After all, my hobby relies on people tolerating me rooting around. I explained what we were doing and offered that she could have anything that I found. She took everything (which was mostly eco-clean up) and left. I went back to diving.
After about three quarters of an hour in the shallow water, we began to see some lightning flashes in the sky. We decided to cut our tanks short and head back. I was dreading the rowing because my hands couldn’t take much more abuse. Luckily, with the wind, the return trip was much easier. I left the lake with no finds and about a half dozen oozing blisters on both hands.
Then a monsoon of rain fell on the region on the way home. Because it rained so hard, flash flooding occurred. The result was closed roadways and terrific congestion. What should have been a three to four hour total trip, wound up being over nine hours.
THE LAST TRIP
My last trip to Lucky Lake wins the prize. I have rarely told this story fully for fear that my wife would get really upset at me. She would have legitimate reason to be angry because what I did was really dumb. I should have never placed myself in the position that I was in.
It was a Sunday morning in early June. The day before, the Milwaukee area had seen one of the worst storms in recent history. As I recall, something like ten inches of rain had fallen on Saturday resulting in tornado warnings and flooding. I had been itching to go diving, so I awoke early and checked the sky. It was blue and beautiful, the calm after the storm. I did not take advantage of any of the vast resources available to check the forecast (such as the internet or the weather channel). A gorgeous blue sky was enough for me. I packed my gear and drove to Lucky Lake.
When I arrived, it still looked like a nice enough day, but it was getting a bit cloudier. I suited up and crawled over the boggy swamp like I did on my first trip here. No blisters today. I intended to dive in a new area on the lake and swam over. Before long, it began to rain. No big whoop. I kept on diving. In fact, I was swimming further away from my entry point. The water was clear and the visibility was quite good. I remember seeing some bass and watching them for awhile. I wasn’t finding too much but I was enjoying the dive. Every time I popped up, though, the weather looked worse than the last time. The lake was getting choppy. The rain was getting heavier and stronger. The trees were swaying with powerful gusts of wind. I vowed to stay under where the weather wouldn’t bother me. Then I saw a really bad omen; lightning flashes. While underwater, I could see the lake light up from the strobe-like activity in the sky. I needed to get out and get out as fast as possible. Every idiot knows that electricity and water do not mix. I was, however, a good quarter of a mile from the beginning of the boggy swamp that was my way out. Worse yet, even on the best of days, it would take significant time and effort to get through that muck hole. I’m guessing at least ten to fifteen minutes to cross it alone.
I set a compass heading back and started to swim along the bottom towards the swamp. It was only about five feet deep. I kicked hard and pulled myself along. I was forced to confront the very real possibility that I could be in the water when lightning struck. I was definitely in the wrong place at the wrong time. I wondered what would happen if it did. Not that I really wanted to find out, mind you, but I was thinking about it. From what little I knew, I’d have guessed that it could easily be deadly. Would an aluminum tank attract electricity? Metallic objects are good conductors and I had one on my back. Obviously, I needed to be back on shore way before the weather had gotten this awful.
Then I had a different thought. Lightning couldn’t be as deadly as I feared. If it was, there wouldn’t be any fish alive in any of the lakes. Metal pier posts had to be frequently struck by lightning yet the lakes were still full of fish. Maybe the force of a strike is localized to the area where it hits and then it dissipates in the water? Of course, even at that time I realized that what I was doing was hoping and rationalizing. It would be far smarter not to be guessing with your life on the line.
Then I saw it and felt it at precisely the same time. It was both a flash and a jolt together. Lightning struck. It would be impossible for me to separate the flash of light from the sensation of the electric current for they were exactly simultaneous. Scientifically, I might have wondered if there was a gap between the flash of lightning and the onset of current similar to the gap between lightning and the sound of thunder. If such a gap existed in my case, it was too small for me to perceive it.
I felt the current mostly on my face and mouth although there were traces of it on my body as well. The sensation was similar to the feeling you get from any electric shock from a socket or a battery except that it was on my face. It was not painful and I was not injured.
I do not know how far away the lightning actually struck or even if it hit the water. I was at the bottom when it happened. It could have been close-by. However, with the ground soaked from the rain, the current may have carried into the lake from a more distant strike. I guessed that I had felt the current near my mouth because I had a regulator (with internal metal pieces) between my teeth. Later, upon reflection, I realized that almost my entire body was covered in neoprene rubber from my wet suit, gloves, hood, and boots. Only the area around my mouth was directly exposed to the water. That might better explain why I felt current where I did.
Despite my calm description here, I was very scared at the time. This was no joke. Lightning can and does kill people. In a bit of a panicked rush, I turned directly towards the shoreline before lightning could strike again. Oddly enough, I found a hutch without trying while clawing my way in. I climbed up on the grass and removed my metal tank. As I looked at the sky, the storm was raging and it showed no signs of letting up. I didn’t know it then, but it continued to rain all day just like it had the day before. The continuous rainfall intensified the flooding in the region. This was a set of storms that caused major damage.
Gradually, I looked around as I waited for the storm to abate. I could see that I had climbed ashore onto a very nice property. The owners had placed a large metal sculpture between their spacious house and the water. I truly did not want to be trespassing. My parents live on a lake. I can imagine how mortified they might be if some all black wet-suit wearing ninja dude crawled up onto their property from the water like the creature from the black lagoon. I hoped to go un-noticed until the storm passed and I could swim back to my car.
Then I heard them calling to me. The couple that lived there were calling me over to the house. They had opened what looked like a garage door on the lake side and were waving me to them. I walked over and they immediately offered that I could come in out of the rain. I told them that I didn’t mind getting wet in my scuba gear. They next offered me towels. They offered me food and drinks. They were so sweet, and kind, and friendly, and neighborly. I just couldn’t believe it. I told them that my whole goal was not to be a burden or to bother them in any way. As they continued to offer any assistance they could, they asked if I needed a ride to my car. There was no way I was going to get their car all wet and mucky but then I realized what I could ask for. I said, “Do you mind if I leave my gear here for a minute and walk back to the parking area to get my car?†They certainly did not mind. This saved me the swampy swim back through the bog and kept me from risking another lightning strike in the water. I couldn’t possibly thank them enough!
I walked back to my car and returned to load up my gear. Later, I talked with a fellow bottle collector named Peter and discovered a huge coincidence. He grew up and was friends with the son of the people who had helped me. It really is a small world. I was able to contact them and thank them again for being so kind and helping me. They graciously offered that I could come and park there anytime I wanted to go diving.
Man. Am I ever lucky.
] Thanks for taking the time to share your story.
