Tag Archives: scuba diving

The Day I Met a Giant Jellyfish Off Cathedral Rocks

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A large jellyfish with a purple‑pink bell drifts through green murky water, its long translucent tentacles trailing behind it.

Why Cape Cod’s Lion’s Mane Jellyfish Made Me Remember

Hearing about the invasion of Lion’s Mane jellyfish on Cape Cod had me reminiscing. Remember, I’m old enough, so I’m allowed.

So let me tell you about the time I met what I now think might have been a Lion’s Mane jellyfish.

Cold, Murky New England Diving Conditions

I was scuba diving off Cathedral Rocks in Rockport.  The water is pretty deep there, and New England waters are never clear. It’s not like diving in the Caribbean where the water is warm and you can see for 100 feet or more. Diving up here, even in the summer, requires a ¼‑inch to 1/2 inch wetsuit for warmth. Visibility is 2–3 feet, if you’re lucky.

Losing Track of My Dive Buddy

The number one rule is to never dive alone. Hmmm… I’ve been known to ignore that rule, but not on this day. I had a dive buddy, but it was just the two of us, and I’d lost track of him.

Suspended at 65 Feet in Perfect Stillness

We were in deep water. I was floating at about 65 feet. I’d hit the sweet spot — perfect neutral buoyancy.

At that depth, there’s no top or bottom. The world becomes a vertical void. You can’t look up and see the surface, and you can’t look down and see the ocean floor. The only way to know which direction is “up” is by watching your bubbles rise.

Most sport diving happens in 25–40 feet of water, so you don’t usually get this effect. But at 65 feet, suspended in the water column, you feel like you’re hanging in space. I didn’t need to move. I could just float there, watching my bubbles drift upward and enjoying the stillness.

A Shape Appears in the Murk

While I was hanging there, looking for my dive buddy’s bubbles, I caught a glimpse of something in the murky water. It was just at the edge of my vision, and it was big. I don’t remember being afraid, just curious. So I stayed very still. What a feeling.

The Giant Jellyfish Emerges

Out of that murk, a huge jellyfish came floating toward me. The bell expanded and contracted like bellows. At the time I thought it was a moon jelly, but if so, it was the biggest one I’ve ever seen. It’s possible it was a Lion’s Mane.

In any case, it was an amazing moment — the stillness, the murky water, and the perfect balance that let me just hang there and watch this thing approach.

A Movie Moment Underwater

I remember thinking it was like watching a scene from a movie where the Blob emerges to terrify the unsuspecting protagonist — in this case, me. But I wasn’t terrified. I was fascinated.

The Unexpected Sting

As the creature floated past me, I felt a sting on my face just under my mask. I’d been tagged by a trailing tentacle. It was just a tiny gossamer thread. I didn’t even see it, but I felt it.

My wetsuit and mask protected me from all but that one tiny thread. I was lucky. If it was a Lion’s Mane, I could have been seriously stung, but it was just the one tentacle, and it left me with a vision I’ve cherished for years.

Why the Moment Stayed With Me

It was one of those things that makes the ocean special to me — not something you see or experience every day. Of course, I don’t want to get stung every day, but this was no worse than a bee sting on land. A moment’s annoyance to see such a beautiful creature in the wild.

Moon Jelly or Lion’s Mane — It Doesn’t Matter

Moon jelly or Lion’s Mane — it doesn’t matter to me. It was a mystical moment.

Note: These photos are amazing photos thaken by talented underwater photographers and posted on the internet. No copywrite info was available. My thanks to the folks that shared and posted these images.

Tropical Fish in Rhode Island?

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A brightly colored tropical fish with a white body, yellow fins, and bold black stripes swims near a textured coral-covered rock inside an aquarium.

🌊 A Warm‑Water Surprise in Little Rhody

Here’s a coastal New England tidbit that still amazes me. Every summer, the Gulf Stream sometimes swings close enough to the Rhode Island shoreline to deliver tropical fish into shallow coves. Yes — tropical fish. In Rhode Island!

Warm eddies peel off the Gulf Stream and drift north, carrying tiny Caribbean and Florida fish larvae with them. When one of these warm rings brushes the coast, those little travelers suddenly find themselves in New England. For a few weeks each summer, places like Jamestown’s protected coves can feel more like Key Largo than Narragansett Bay.

🌅 Beavertail: The Coastline I Did Know

I’ve spent time at Beavertail State Park, with its dramatic cliffs, pounding surf, and that steadfast lighthouse watching over the rocks. It’s one of the most striking pieces of coastline in Rhode Island — beautiful, rugged, and loud with the sound of water hitting stone.

But Beavertail is also a reminder of why I never made that tropical‑fish dive. The shoreline there is rough, exposed, and prone to rip currents. Even as a diver, I remember looking at those rocks and thinking, Where would you even get in safely? It’s a place built for sightseeing and storm watching, not for slipping quietly beneath the surface.

That contrast — the wildness of Beavertail versus the calm, sheltered coves just a few miles away — underscores how close I came to experiencing something extraordinary.

🤿 The Dive I Never Quite Made

Back in the 1970s, when I was scuba diving, the stories sounded almost unbelievable: a shallow, easy‑entry spot in Jamestown where warm water pooled and bright tropical fish appeared out of nowhere. Some divers even collected them for home aquariums, since the fish wouldn’t survive once fall temperatures dropped.

These tiny tropical visitors even have a nickname: Gulf Stream orphans. It’s a sweet, slightly melancholy name for fish that drift hundreds of miles off course and end up in Rhode Island for a short summer stay.

I planned that dive more than once. I wanted to see it for myself — to slip into warm water in New England and find a flash of Caribbean color swimming past. But work, schedules, and life kept interfering. It became one of those small regrets that stays with you: knowing there was a pocket of warm, tropical magic hiding in Rhode Island, and I never quite made it there.

 

🌡️ A Rare Event That’s Becoming More Common

And here’s the part that feels almost bittersweet: it’s more common now than it was back then. As the ocean has warmed, tropical and subtropical fish are appearing farther north, more frequently, and in greater numbers. What was once a rare Gulf Stream surprise has become a regular summer occurrence.

The ocean I dove in during the 1970s is not the same ocean we swim in today.

 

🌴 A Brief Visit From the Tropics

For a short moment each year, the Gulf Stream reaches out and brushes New England, leaving behind a handful of tropical fish as proof — a reminder of how dynamic, surprising, and ever‑changing our coastline really is. And every time I see the Beavertail lighthouse, I think of the dive I never took, and the warm‑water visitors I never met.

Beavertail Lighthouse on a calm day

 

 

What’s the Next Experience?

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Moulton Barn with Tetons in the backgroundEach Vacation is a New Experience.

Wyoming was quite the experience. From start to finish it had something new and different. It’s hard to beat the beautiful Teton Mountains, Yellowstone geysers and falls and all of the wild animals. But all good things must end and now I’m back home again.

 

 

Old Faithful Erupts

Next up on the vacation agenda

As you may have gathered from some of my posts I’m having a tough time with my back right now. It makes everything from hiking to swimming a challenge. I’m not one to sit on the beach when I go on vacation. I get bored on cruise ships but this mobility issue has defiantly put a cramp in my vacation style. Still I book my vacations way in advance so I have another one on the books.

Lets go to Maui Wowie againOn The Road To Hana

I do love Hawaii. The climate is as close to perfect as you can get. I have a Maui vacation just waiting for me in February.  The peak month for shark encounters off Maui is October and since my next excursion is February I’m probably ok with sharks. Besides, I’m not sure I’ll be cleared to swim or snorkel yet. It’s all pending doctor’s orders. Did you know that scuba divers are almost never shark attack victims? “They” think it might be the bubbles from the air tanks or possibly that they are often vertical in the water. In any case I probably won’t be scuba diving.

The Maui Experience

I’ve been to Maui several times now. I’ve taken a helicopter tour, traveled the Road to Hana, gone snorkeling and whale watching. I even took a ride on a submarine. So what’s left for someone who can’t get out there with a surfboard. Maybe I could try body surfing or using a “boogie board”. I still want to see Iao State park and the Iao Needle. That’s been closed due to mudslides every time I’ve been there but I think it’s open now. Since it is the height of whale watch season I’ll probably do that again. I can never get enough of those amazing animals.

Breaching baby Humpback