Ginnie Springs

The entrance to Ginnie Springs

My body was parallel to the river bed as my feet propelled me forward. If I reached up, I could touch the surface, but I didn’t want to. I wanted to go down, not up. 

We rounded a corner and approached a giant hole in the river bed. Hundreds of bubbles emerged through the limestone - the exhalations of other divers being expelled from the cavern below. My heart pounded harder as we drew near to the entrance. This was the cave at Ginnie Springs.

I followed my team mates down through the hole and found the thick, braided golden-yellow rope that marked the route into the cave. Already I could feel the current in my face. As the water rushed past, I got low to the limestone floor and frog-kicked against the flow, more thankful than ever that my gear was streamlined. Ahead of me, my instructor had pulled out of the stream and tucked himself behind a rock wall. He gestured that I should do the same. We had passed through the Eye.

One by one, we pulled out from the protected crevice and entered The Gallery. The flow was slowest in the boundary layer near the ceiling, so I followed my instructor upward and frog-kicked hard. A few minutes later, we were pulling around another corner and facing The Lips. I knew this part – I was going to have to keep my head low and pull with my hands. I tried not to use my feet, first because I knew it was useless, and second because I didn’t want to kick my husband behind me. As we emerged from The Lips, there was a hard left turn, and then we reached The Park Bench – a large, flat rock. We stopped for a few minutes, and I caught my breath. Diving is a sport, after all.

After this point, it was supposed to get easier – and thankfully it did. We installed our own spool to connect the gold line to another line leading off to the right. This was the start of our circuit, and I was excited to explore. At one point in the cave, we found a room full of fossils – sea biscuits and snail shells embedded in the rock. My instructor pointed out white amphipods and a clear shrimp as we swam - so cool! Two hours and a couple thousand feet later, we were back on the gold line, and I saw my spool in the distance! It was surprisingly satisfying to complete the circuit.

Carl and I on the decompression shelf at Ginnie Springs.
Photo by Rob McGann.

From the Park Bench, we arranged ourselves single file. I could feel the current on me – on my feet this time, not my face. I held on as long as I could, but eventually, my fingers gave way. The cave was spitting me out. We rounded the corner and revisited features I recognized – The Lips, The Gallery, that little spot behind the rock wall. Near the entrance to the cave, my husband tucked himself onto a white rock shelf and settled down for his decompression stop. It looked like a good idea, so I followed him in, and we made ourselves negatively buoyant. It was like a nap – a much deserved rest after swimming more or less for 3 hours.

As we emerged from the cave, the blue-green light surrounded me. I noticed snails on the side of the basin – three different species, actually. A catfish wriggled past. Before I knew it, I was back near the surface, pushing myself with my fins. Swimmers splashed overhead, and as I climbed the stairs out of the river, I could hear distant salsa music from somebody’s picnic. It was a good day at Ginnie Springs.

[I’m currently taking a cave diving class on vacation in Florida, but the caves are cool enough, I had to share!]