My journal entry the day I did a night dive on the Kiyosumi.
On the I 169 blog, I talked about this trip. The first dive that I did was the I 169 on October the 12th, 1994. The last dive that I did was a night dive on October the 19th. It was on the Kiyosumi Maru. The Kiyosumi was sunk on February 16, 1943 by planes from the Yorktown and the Enterprise.
This was going to be my last dive before I went home. I had already dove the Kiyosumi so when all the other divers started jumping in, I hung back so that I could dive alone. I knew as a dive instructor that it was not appropriate to dive alone but I wasn't feeling very social and wanted my last dive to ponder over the great week I had experienced. As I was alone, I decided to stay on the top of the wreck so that if I did have a problem, I could do a quick 40 foot ascent to safety.
A few minutes after the main group dropped down into the depths, I did a giant stride in and started my descent. In the distance, I could see the rays of the other divers dive lights cutting through the gloom as they dove down toward hold #5 to see the bicycles still in fairly good shape after so many years submerged. With the lights of the divers directed off in so many directions, it looked like a weird, multi-legged sea monster, dropping down into the depths. When I arrived at the upright starboard side next to the bomb damage at the bridge and central house, I saw some articles that had been found aboard over the years and put in a central location where divers could enjoy and photograph them. There was a large set of the binoculars that had been used on the bridge. It reminded me of my own Japanese made POLARIS - FUJINON binoculars. Also a canteen. I tried to visualize the Japanese sailors that would have used those items.
I swam out in the middle of the flat starboard side and decided to turn my dive light off not only to enjoy the eeriness of being alone but without a light, the total aloneness of the dark silence. I would hold my breath so that there wasn't even the sound of my rising bubbles. When I turned my dive light off, I was excited to see that there was phosphorescence in the water. I turned over and laid back on my tank so that I was looking straight up to the surface. With my dive light off and my eyes adjusted to natural light, it was so clear that I could see the starry sky. The glowing phosphorescence was caused by blooming phytoplankton. The only way to explain it is to say that the sea water was glowing a heavenly greenish-blue. It was absolutely surreal! It was so beautiful that I got goose bumps! The only other times that I can remember being so affected by light was seeing the Northern Lights for the first time up in Sitka, Alaska with our whole family. We all hooted and hollered in ecstasy. Also, as a young boy, sleeping under the stars in our back yard and seeing falling stars for the first time.
From time to time I would gaze out horizontally into the void to see if a big shark or other sea creature was looming in the distance. Of course, in a situation like that, your imagination takes over. Being alone in dark, deep sea in the middle of the ocean with that marine medium continuing around the globe is a feeling that I will never forget.
Here is a scientific explanation of Marine Phosphorescence by Encyclopedia Britannica:
Once again the scripture about "all things being created to bear record of HIM" came to mind. As I laid there I remember thinking to myself, "of all the places I could be right now, and I am alone, diving a ship wreck in the tropical star light". Other than being alone, the only better scenario would have been to share this moment with Denalee.
What a great ending to my adventure!
. . . so goes His wonders in the deep.
Flag of the Island of Truk
