Photo by Ron Thrower 



A diver climbs toward the surface and the boat's ladder 



A glimpse of life 

 At 60 feet under 



As thunder rumbles near Beaufort 

 Inlet on a muggy July morning, a dive 

 boat sputters to a halt and drops 

 anchor. 



Bob Eastep shrugs his air tanks onto 

 his shoulders, tightens his face mask 

 over his eyes and nose, bites his 

 mouthpiece, perches himself on the 

 side of the boat and rolls sideways into 

 the grayish sea. 



Eastep's head quickly bobs to the 

 surface where he watches his dive 

 buddy, Terry Leonard, slip into the 

 water beside him. The two men signal 

 "all's well" to the boat captain, upend 

 themselves in the ocean swells and 

 disappear. 



10 feet below . . . The feeling of 

 weightlessness overtakes them. The 60- 

 pound tanks are no longer a burden 

 and the divers revel in their own ef- 

 fortless motion. The slightest flip of a 

 finned foot propels them downward. 



20 feet below . . . The divers' eyes 

 adjust to the growing dimness. The sea 

 is like a shadowy room at dusk where 

 color and contrast between objects is 

 dulled. The sea is bathed in shades of 

 blue and green, often concealing the 

 brilliant colors of its inhabitants. 



30 feet below ... A school of fish 

 glides gracefully by the divers. Their 

 steady, unhurried movement hints of a 

 slower pace in this undersea world. The 

 wreckage of an old British trawler 

 looms in the murky distance. 



50 feet below . . . The divers explore 

 the encrusted remains. They find the 

 sea has claimed this man-made vessel 

 as its own and converted it to feeding 

 grounds and living quarters for the 



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