I’ve seen many sunrises. I’ve been an insomniac as long as I can remember, so most of them were involuntary. I didn’t wake up early to see them, I just hadn’t gone to sleep yet.
Depending on which wreck we hoped to dive, the boats usually left the dock between 6:00 and 8:00 AM
Much better sunrise recollections are the summer days when I was going diving on the shipwrecks off the coast of New Jersey. Depending on which wreck we hoped to dive, the boats usually left the dock between 6:00 and 8:00 AM, from Jersey Shore towns like Brielle, Point Pleasant or Barnegat. This meant a minimum of ninety minutes drive from my home in Bayonne. Obviously, I had to leave the house very early, often well before sunrise.
Memories. My father, knowing I was leaving early, getting up ahead of me to make me breakfast (he was a wizard at scrambled eggs!). Loading the tanks, gear and cooler into the car in darkness or nearly so. The smell of my neoprene wet suit lying on the back seat as I pulled away. Driving across the almost empty Bayonne Bridge, and then either the Goethals or Outerbridge Crossing as the sky lightened in the southeast. Fretting about missing the boat if I got caught in early Shorebound traffic at the Raritan toll plaza. Mixtapes and Moondance on the stereo.
The way it worked out, the sun often peeked over the horizon as I was crossing the elevated stretch of the Parkway over Raritan Bay, where I had an unobstructed view. Immediately I could feel the warmth of it on my left cheek and shoulder. I’d flip the sun visor down and rotate it left to shield my eyes, and don my sunglasses. Often I could see the light trail of it pointing right at me over the shimmering North Atlantic, bidding me east and south to the boat, the wreck, good friends and the day’s adventure.
Dave VentreA hyper-annuated wannabee scientist with a lovely wife and a mountain biking problem.
Thanks for helping me with the prompt. I too have numerous memories driving down that parkway to the Jersey shore. Diving for sea wrecks was never one of them, and of course I thought of the latest disaster of the Titan and how an underwater adventurer like yourself might personally relate to it. Sunrises and sunsets have accompanied more of my poetry than I can count, and like you I can feel the warmth on my face just by reliving it.
The demise of the Titan indeed has a morbid fascination for me, because if I were filthy rich, I might very well do something like that. I sort of think I’d do my research about the sub beforehand, though. Even I knew two reasons why carbon composite is totally unsuitable for high external pressure applications.
Dave, a beautifully lived and perfectly written story, bravo! And bravo for the prompt!
Lyrical description of watching the sunrise as you began a good dive, Dave. I enjoyed learning that your father made good scrambled eggs and could feel the warmth of the sun on your cheek as you drove to meet your friends across the Rariton Bay. Very nice, indeed.
Dave:
You describe your trip so well. I felt you invited me into it: standing by the car, watching you drive, listening to your observations, watching the rising sun. Before reaching the port, I asked you to drop me at the nearest library.
I echo Richard’s comment—I would not be going down for the dive either. But starting early on an adventurous day makes it special—you are outside most people’s usual schedules. Great description.
Beautiful description, Dave. I was touched by the part where your father got up so early to make you breakfast and see you off.
Dave,
As a fellow diver, I can remember much of what you describe so well about dawn on the water. Thanks for rekindling those memories.