09/06/2026
Yesterday was my first time in JB3, a section of Jackson Blue Spring in Marianna, Florida.
And holy crap…what a beautiful piece of cave.
But as incredible as it was to finally see it, I came out of that dive with a feeling I honestly wasn't expecting: concern.
The first couple hundred feet beyond the restriction look less like pristine cave floor and more like a war zone in places. Handprints. Finger divots where divers have touched down. Scarring. And even repeated gouge marks that appear to have come from an AL80 hanging far too low and dragging across the cave.
That absolutely breaks my heart.
These caves are one of the reasons I fell in love with diving. They're beautiful, challenging, unforgiving and incredibly special. We get the privilege of seeing places that the overwhelming majority of people on this planet will never see.
But privilege comes with responsibility.
Caves are somewhat "alive." Given enough time, flowing water and natural processes can soften some of the evidence we've left behind. But that doesn't happen overnight. Depending on the damage, we're talking months, years and sometimes decades.
And some scars may be around long after we're gone.
We're cave divers. Taking an extra couple of minutes before a dive to look ourselves AND our teammates over shouldn't be an inconvenience. Tanks where they belong. Lights secured. Boltsnaps clipped. Hoses routed. Nothing dangling. Nothing hanging low. And, just as importantly, the buoyancy, trim and propulsion skills to move through that environment without using the cave floor as a landing pad.
Accidents happen. Nobody is perfect. I've made mistakes underwater and I'll make more.
But the amount of damage I saw in JB3 was difficult for me to reconcile with the level of diver who should be entering that section of cave.
Think about what it takes just to get there.
You're approaching 5,000 feet of pe*******on, negotiating a single-bottle-off restriction, and then potentially continuing thousands of feet farther into an overhead environment.
By that point, protecting the cave shouldn't be an advanced skill.
It should be second nature.
These caves don't belong to us. We're visitors. We're incredibly fortunate visitors who get to experience something extraordinary—and then hopefully leave it exactly as we found it for the next diver.
Take the extra two minutes.
Check your gear.
Check your teammate.
Fix the dangling light.
Move the tank.
Clean up your trim.
Practice your propulsion.
And if something isn't right, fix it before going farther.
Because getting through the restriction isn't the accomplishment.
Getting through it without leaving evidence that you were ever there is.
Protect the caves we love.
We only get one chance to preserve them.
