CERULEAN, Ky. -- As the air left my buoyancy compensator and I sank slowly toward the bottom, a friendly bluegill glided in front of my mask. About 25 feet below, we swam cheek-to-gill toward an algae-covered Chevrolet Impala. It turns out that Dive Cerulean, a limestone rock quarry about five hours south of Decatur, is sort of a junkyard for fish.

From there, a yellow rope led us to a sunken boat manned by more bluegill and then to a set of wide corrugated steel pipes. Peeking through one I spied a huge largemouth bass intently peering back. Coasting through the tunnel-like pipe, I brushed my glove along its side.

Mingling with fish and exploring the unknown, common activities at dive spots like Dive Cerulean, are leading more and more people to don scuba gear.

Scuba diving lets humans become temporary submarines -- immersing them in Earth's incredible aquariums and trading gravity and workday hubbub for weightlessness and serenity.

Many people enjoy swimming and snorkeling for the same reasons. But diving offers more depth and adventure. A dive master trained me in scuba -- self-contained underwater breathing apparatus -- 12 years ago when I finally grew tired of trying to hold my breath long enough to check out an entire reef.

Shortly after, my father became certified and our common interest took us to a myriad of Florida reefs and wrecks. But after moving to Central Illinois, I wondered if my passion for diving was doomed.

Not so, thanks to Decatur's Pro Dive Shop. After popping in for a visit, Manager Mike Cooney helped plan a one-day trip Dive Cerulean. There are actually dozens of places to dive in the Midwest, he said, including lakes, rivers and quarries in Illinois, Iowa, Indiana and Missouri.

But would they have mounds of coral, bright purple sponges and sea fans and electrifying barracuda? Probably not, but I figured diving anywhere is good practice.

Included in our caravan were Cooney, his 18-year-old son Ryan, Decatur resident James Vaux and H&R Chief Photographer Dennis Magee.

After a few hours of driving, we checked out the map showing the way to our destination. Despite vast corn fields surrounding us, Dive Cerulean was supposed to be just minutes away. Cynicism set in. Waving to a man driving a tractor as we pulled onto a gravel road, we really began to wonder.

Then, there it was -- a shimmering 16 acres of clear water flanked by steep walls of rock.

Cindy Westerfield, who has leased the property for seven years with her husband David, said the water was a wonderful 80 degrees and handed us maps of an underwater world that turned out to be spectacular.

Although in some ways Dive Cerulean did not compare to ocean diving, where visibility can reach 200 feet or more, it was great for a freshwater dive. In some area lakes and ponds, you can barely see your hand in front of your face. Visibility at Dive Cerulean can reach 30 feet.

But Western Kentucky's paradise is for divers only. No swimming or fishing is allowed. The site is open weekends and Monday and Friday from 10 a.m. to 4 p.m. from Father's Day through Aug. 10. Reservations must be made for other times, including winter dives.

Just one other dive party was present on the Monday we dove. But during the previous weekend, 343 divers tested Cerulean's water. That busy pace continues throughout the summer, as July and August weekends are the busiest according, to Westerfield.

For about an hour, we had the whole quarry to ourselves -- complete roam of all of the underwater ``reefs.'' Most fish love cars and boats -- artificial reefs covered with vegetation with plenty of nooks and crannies to hide in. As Cooney turned the Impala's steering wheel and I opened the back door, a few flippered fish scurried out.

Besides the Impala and two boats, the quarry is home to a pickup truck, a Volkswagen, a pink Cadillac and a navigational course for underwater compass practice.

Although diving has taught me that fish are more than tasty morsels to eat with a wedge of lemon, the large catfish at Cerulean made my mouth water. The Westerfields raised the catfish -- the largest weighing 65 pounds.

In a secluded cove, the tame catfish and dozens of affable largemouth bass, hung out, awaiting a treat. Our offerings, breakfast bars and Cheese Whiz, proved satisfying -- for us and the fish.

They darted over our heads, swam through our legs and brushed against our arms.

``They're used to being hand-fed,'' Westerfield said.

Cooney and Vaux, who have dived all over the world, gave Dive Cerulean two thumbs up for its abundant fish life.