Hovering horizontally in almost utter darkness along with the muted silence of being 50 feet underwater tends to automatically illicit a zen like state of calm and tranquility. The rhythm of my own breathing through a mouthpiece feels echoed through my skull from my teeth holding the mouthpiece in place and the tickle of bubbles as they leave my mask only contribute to the sensation. The spring fed water of this old mine shaft is cold, about 60 degrees, maybe even colder at this depth even though its a hot July day in the world above. As I periodically adjust my buoyancy compensator to maintain my hovering position I can feel the coldness seep into my extremities, helping to contribute to my calmness. Im on the verge of sleep but I keep myself from doing so as it would be a waste of the precious time that I have left in my air supply. So I keep my eyes open, staring into the deep dark blue void below me.
Im now in a vast expanse a thousand feet across, a man made cenote as it disappears into a shaft that goes for 500 feet straight down into a labyrinth of tunnels that run in horizontal passages at different depths for miles in every direction. The imagination goes wild as I imagine the people who dug this lead mine in the heart of the midwest so many years ago and the hardships they must have endured. At 300 feet are artifacts that I would never see, visual trophies for only the more adventurous or crazy. A steam locomotive that was assembled in the tunnel and ran on coal that could be a center piece in any modern train museum but will never see the light of day again. My mind wanders as I imagine how many miners that its belching poison contributed to killing in such close confines, as if working in an early lead mine wasn't bad enough. Reaching this train would not only be a 300 foot decent, but would also require a forbidding swim through a morass of both horizontal and vertical tunnels the length of which would leave precious little time to enjoy the surreal images of a flooded mine tunnel of the train, tools and equipment still leaning against the shaft walls as if the miners just packed up and left yesterday before needing to turn around and go back.
The thumping bass of a water impact pulls me from my reverie. Far above me are distinct forms of people enjoying the hot day in this cold water, legs and feet kicking. Innertubes highlighting butts and thighs. Some cradling coolers as people pull them along. Another thump as someone hits the water, jumping from many key locations that circle the vast hole high above. The brief look up instantly compromises the night vision that I acquired over the last 20 minutes. So with a few quick kicks that propel me along toward the edge, slowly the looming wall of the tunnel starts to come into view. I head toward a small landing, the only in the giant chasm, precariously perched on a ledge of cut stone above the dark void below. Yet it is an oasis of life, completely covered with water grass and it doesnt take long to see swarms of fish that live in close proximity. Bass, minnow and others I cant identify curiously swim my direction as I approach. I wonder if this curiosity ever takes them into the seemly infinite depths below, possibly to their deaths if they can never find their way back after traversing the maze on submerged tunnels. I also wonder how they got here. A long ago flood? Something miraculous like a tornado causing a rain of fish? Or something more mundane like someone releasing them?
A few presses of a button on my compensator has me slowly ascending, the water quickly warming. My timing is perfect as a soft beep signals my first stage warning for my air supply. I prepare myself for what is always the rudest ending to such a tranquil and weightless experience, pulling myself out of the water, not only my own waterlogged mass but 70lbs of equipment.
Im now in a vast expanse a thousand feet across, a man made cenote as it disappears into a shaft that goes for 500 feet straight down into a labyrinth of tunnels that run in horizontal passages at different depths for miles in every direction. The imagination goes wild as I imagine the people who dug this lead mine in the heart of the midwest so many years ago and the hardships they must have endured. At 300 feet are artifacts that I would never see, visual trophies for only the more adventurous or crazy. A steam locomotive that was assembled in the tunnel and ran on coal that could be a center piece in any modern train museum but will never see the light of day again. My mind wanders as I imagine how many miners that its belching poison contributed to killing in such close confines, as if working in an early lead mine wasn't bad enough. Reaching this train would not only be a 300 foot decent, but would also require a forbidding swim through a morass of both horizontal and vertical tunnels the length of which would leave precious little time to enjoy the surreal images of a flooded mine tunnel of the train, tools and equipment still leaning against the shaft walls as if the miners just packed up and left yesterday before needing to turn around and go back.
The thumping bass of a water impact pulls me from my reverie. Far above me are distinct forms of people enjoying the hot day in this cold water, legs and feet kicking. Innertubes highlighting butts and thighs. Some cradling coolers as people pull them along. Another thump as someone hits the water, jumping from many key locations that circle the vast hole high above. The brief look up instantly compromises the night vision that I acquired over the last 20 minutes. So with a few quick kicks that propel me along toward the edge, slowly the looming wall of the tunnel starts to come into view. I head toward a small landing, the only in the giant chasm, precariously perched on a ledge of cut stone above the dark void below. Yet it is an oasis of life, completely covered with water grass and it doesnt take long to see swarms of fish that live in close proximity. Bass, minnow and others I cant identify curiously swim my direction as I approach. I wonder if this curiosity ever takes them into the seemly infinite depths below, possibly to their deaths if they can never find their way back after traversing the maze on submerged tunnels. I also wonder how they got here. A long ago flood? Something miraculous like a tornado causing a rain of fish? Or something more mundane like someone releasing them?
A few presses of a button on my compensator has me slowly ascending, the water quickly warming. My timing is perfect as a soft beep signals my first stage warning for my air supply. I prepare myself for what is always the rudest ending to such a tranquil and weightless experience, pulling myself out of the water, not only my own waterlogged mass but 70lbs of equipment.
