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Undersea Allure : Divers Cove’s Kelp Forests and Calm Waters Are Mecca for the Scuba Set

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TIMES STAFF WRITER

They begin arriving before the sun touches the aquamarine waters of Divers Cove. In a parking lot off Coast Highway, they pull on wet suits, hoist 40-pound aluminum tanks and 14-pound weight-belts, grab masks, fins and snorkels and huff down the winding concrete stairway to the sand.

Pairing up in buddy teams, they survey the sea. Then, glancing over their shoulders for oncoming waves, they shuffle backward into the water like awkward slick-skinned penguins engaged in some weird kind of migratory ritual.

Welcome to underwater Orange County.

“This is as good as it gets on the mainland,” says Dan Jacobsson, 27, a contractor and amateur diver who visits here regularly from Palm Springs. It certainly beats “diving in golf course lakes.”

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On an average summer weekend, as many as 1,000 scuba divers brave the depths off the hidden coves and gleaming beaches of Laguna, according to Sally Santmyer, owner of Laguna Sea Sports, the oldest dive shop in town. They come from all over, making this one of the most popular beach-diving areas in Southern California. They dive at places like Shaws Cove, Fisherman’s Cove, Bird Rock and Woods Cove.

But it is Divers Cove that is city’s best-known and longest-established dive spot. Located off Cliff Drive near Beverly Street, the cove sports a short stretch of sand protected by rock formations on either side. The water is generally calm, with both rocky and sandy bottoms and large kelp beds frequently floating offshore. The result is a lush underwater forest populated by lobster, eels, abalone, garibaldi and dozens of other fish that began attracting divers as early as the 1940s.

Today, Divers Cove is part of an ecological reserve from which nothing--not a shell, rock, plant or marine life of any kind--may be taken. Still the divers come in droves, content with battling their way out through the surf just to feast their eyes on what many consider one of nature’s grandest wonders.

“For off-the-beach this is world-class diving, “ Santmyer says. “A kelp forest is like (swimming through) the redwoods. It’s awesome.”

It can also be deadly. On average, from two to four divers are killed in the waters off Laguna Beach each year, according to Mike Dwinell, manager of the city’s lifeguard department. Many of the accidents, he says, result from lack of planning, inexperience or poor physical conditioning on the part of divers. “Usually it’s just poor judgment,” he says. “They come down here to go diving, and they go diving regardless of conditions.”

Typically, Dwinell says, errant divers get into trouble while entering or exiting the water through the surf: Hit by a wave, they lose their balance, become disoriented, lose important pieces of gear and sometimes panic.

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The city has taken several steps to increase diver safety. For starters, all city lifeguards are certified divers who undergo special training in diver rescue. In addition, strict municipal codes require divers to have buddies and be properly equipped. And diving beaches are routinely shut down when conditions become overly hazardous.

“We’d rather be bad guys than let something happen,” Dwinell asserts.

Some residents near the city’s pristine spots have a different perspective on the hordes of divers that descend on their neighborhoods each weekend. They would prefer a permanent reduction in the number of scuba-suited invaders.

“I could hear them at 4:20 this morning,” said Easter Sledge, who lives in an apartment building next to a cove and spent much of a recent Saturday shooing divers away from his driveway. “They seem to think they have a priority they’re not entitled to. We get a certain rudeness that is not acceptable, an arrogance that we’re not interested in.”

Among the most common complaints are diving gear and automobiles blocking driveways, excessive noise early in the morning and general insensitivity to residents’ rights.

Such complaints were aired regularly before the City Council for years. About four years ago, Dwinell says, they blossomed into an outright confrontation between the local diving community and an organized citizens’ group that wanted diving banned altogether from city beaches. The result, after much discussion, was a “diver etiquette” program consisting of signs posted at popular dive beaches urging divers to keep their noise level down, stay off private property and generally respect the rights of others. Since then, Dwinell says, the number of complaints has dwindled and the problem appears to be under control.

“Most of the divers are polite now,” says Dore Teichman, 34, a computer engineer from Orange who dives here almost every weekend.

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Indeed, there seemed to be no overt tension on a recent Saturday morning as would-be divers practically stormed Divers Cove to be the first in the water. Many were members of diver certification classes, beginners here for the “checkout dive” required by most certification agencies for completion of a course. Because of Divers Cove’s easy accessibility, spectacular views and generally good visibility, diving instructors have long favored this spot as a place for introducing students to the wonders of the submarine world.

In addition to the classes, there were dozens of divers simply out for some bottom time at a place they adore. “Once you get a couple of hundred yards off shore there’s lots to see,” Teichman said.

On this particular day, the water was murky--visibility averaged only about seven feet compared to the expansive 60-or-so feet available on a good day. That proved discouraging to some divers, particularly those experiencing Divers Cove for the first time.

David Horner, 15, of Santa Ana said he ran out of air during his checkout dive and had to come to the surface early. “It was kind of hard,” he said afterward. “I didn’t see much here.”

And Jung Yoo, a 25-year-old student from West Covina who has been diving only three months, developed a leak in his buoyancy compensator--an inflatable vest worn by divers--and had to be helped in through the surf by a lifeguard.

His initial impression of Divers Cove? “No good,” he said without hesitation. “Just sand and rock.”

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Yet he remained determined to explore the purported underwater paradise on a better day. Not to worry, Yoo said, slipping breathlessly out of his wet suit on the beach. “I’ll be back.”

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