Only when he was safely at the top of the ramp did he remove his mask and allow the regulator to fall from his mouth. A safe diver is a diver who comes back to dive another day, he told himself. Another ridiculous mantra drummed into his head all those years ago by his instructor. More junk from the old attic.

His old Volvo was parked in the lot, which was quickly filling up with cars. With only fifteen teams of divers allowed into the Pt. Lobos Reserve per day, competition was fierce for reservations, especially in the summer. As Ben walked toward his aging station wagon, he saw other divers regarding him suspiciously. Park rules dictated that, for increased safety, divers dive in pairs; you couldn’t even get past the ranger station unaccompanied by a buddy. As a solo diver, Ben knew he was an object of both concern and envy. Long ago he had stopped feeling the need to explain to the curious that his scientific credentials and affiliation with the nearby Hopkins Marine Station research center exempted him from the restrictions placed on recreational divers.

“Hey, Ben. Anything to see?”

Opening the back of the wagon, Ben turned and sat down, releasing the straps on his BC and slipping it from his shoulders before answering.

“Couple of fish,” he said. “Lots of water.”

The man speaking to him grinned. “I see you lost your buddy again,” he said. “How many does that make?”

“Oh, I guess about ninety-two,” said Ben thoughtfully.

He and the man laughed.

“How are you, Davis?” Ben asked.

Davis Huffinsen nodded. “Can’t complain,” he said.

The ranger stood to one side, watching the divers preparing to enter the water. He and Ben had been friends for a dozen years, but Davis had been a ranger at Pt. Lobos for twice that length of time. Although there was little he didn’t know about the park and its history, he had never visited the underwater portion of the reserve, something Ben found unimaginable.

“When are we going to get you wet?” he asked, as he always did.

“Maybe in the fall,” answered Davis, giving the answer that varied only according to whatever season followed the current one.

“One of these days you’ll say yes,” Ben said. “And I’ll drop dead of shock.”

“Well, we can’t have that,” replied Davis. “So maybe I’ll have to stay a drylander.”

After unzipping his dry suit, Ben gently pulled his hands through the latex seals that surrounded his wrists and then did the same with the seal around his neck, lifting it up and over his head to free himself. Once the suit was off, he unzipped the insulating undergarment. The sun warmed his skin, and the light breeze cooled his body, now uncomfortably warm without the cooling effects of the water.

“Got here early,” Davis remarked. “Looking for something special?”

“Just wanted to beat the crowds,” said Ben. He paused. “Actually, my daughter is coming today,” he added, surprised at himself for revealing the information.