Most people who learn to dive in Florida start on the reef. The coral, the fish, the colors. It’s enough to keep recreational divers coming back for years. But for Phillip Zmijewski, a Florida-based diver who has spent years logging dives across the state’s saltwater and freshwater environments, the reefs were eventually upstaged by something sitting deeper and further from shore.
“The Keys feel nothing like the springs, and Palm Beach currents feel nothing like the Gulf,” Zmijewski has said of Florida’s diving variety. “Every area teaches you something new.” Wreck diving, he argues, teaches you more than most.
Florida’s underwater geography happens to be one of the richest wreck diving environments in the United States. The state’s coastlines have collected centuries of maritime casualties, plus a deliberate collection of artificial reefs created when the state began intentionally sinking decommissioned vessels. The centerpiece of that program sits 22 miles off the coast of Pensacola.
The Mighty O
On May 17, 2006, controlled scuttling charges sent the 911-foot USS Oriskany to the floor of the Gulf of Mexico, where she settled upright at a depth of 212 feet. The Essex-class aircraft carrier, which served in both the Korean and Vietnam Wars, became the largest vessel ever intentionally sunk as an artificial reef. The Times of London has since named it one of the top ten wreck diving sites in the world.
The Oriskany, nicknamed “the Great Carrier Reef” and “the Mighty O,” draws recreational and technical divers from across the country. Its control tower, or “Island,” starts at roughly 84 feet, putting it within reach of recreational divers. The flight deck sits at 145 feet, and the hangar bay at 175. Anything below requires advanced or technical certification.
“Watching it materialize out of blue water on the way down is breathtaking,” says Kerry Freeland of Dive Pros Pensacola, a veteran instructor with more than 60 dives on the wreck.
Zmijewski points to the Oriskany as an example of what separates wreck diving from other forms of recreational diving. The sheer scale demands more of you. Navigation is different. Currents around the wreck can run strong, and there is no place to land until you reach the tower at depth. The site requires divers to carry an alternate air source and a surface marker buoy, and most charter operators require a minimum of 20 logged dives before allowing anyone on board.
“I believe the depth has been a deterrent to many who consider penetrating,” Freeland has noted, “and no doubt has saved some lives.” The hangar bay doors sit 30 feet below the flight deck, and the scale of the opening, described as a massive cave-like maw, makes it immediately clear to most divers that this is not a dive to improvise.
What the Training Progression Actually Looks Like
Wreck diving as a discipline has a formal certification track. PADI’s Wreck Diver specialty, for instance, covers navigation by reel and line, air management inside overhead environments, and the specific risks of wreck penetration, including silt disturbance, disorientation, and entanglement hazards. But Zmijewski’s view, shaped by years on Florida’s water, is that certification alone doesn’t prepare a diver for what a site like the Oriskany presents.
The practical prerequisites go beyond a card in your wallet. Divers should have logged meaningful open-water time, be comfortable in currents, and have solid buoyancy before they approach a technical overhead environment. The Oriskany’s interior was prepared for divers before sinking, with insulation and wiring removed to reduce entanglement and doorways welded open to add egress points. But the structure has also changed since 2006. Tropical Storm Ida in 2009 collapsed part of the Island, and successive storms and years of corrosion have continued to alter the wreck’s geometry.
The Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission now recommends that divers speak with local dive shops before every visit to get current depth and conditions information, and formally advises against entering the ship’s interior due to ongoing structural changes.
Beyond the Oriskany
The Panhandle’s wreck diving extends well past the Oriskany. The Florida Panhandle Shipwreck Trail comprises dozens of additional vessels across the region, ranging in depth and difficulty. For divers working their way into wreck diving for the first time, Zmijewski recommends starting with shallower, more accessible wrecks before building toward deeper, more complex sites.
The Atlantic Coast offers a different set of options. Off Palm Beach and up through the Treasure Coast, historic wrecks and artificial reefs lie along drift dive corridors where the Gulf Stream’s current becomes a factor in every dive plan. Zmijewski cites current management as one of the skills that newer wreck divers consistently underestimate. “Always assume you might surface away from the boat,” he has said, a piece of advice that applies on any drift dive but carries additional weight on a site with depth and distance involved.
The marine life on Florida’s wrecks is part of the draw. Artificial reefs concentrate fish in ways natural sandy bottom rarely does. The Oriskany hosts amberjack, snapper, grouper, and occasional pelagics, including whale sharks and manta rays. Barracuda are reliably present. On shallower wrecks, the mix shifts toward tropicals and the macro life that wreck photographers pursue.
For Zmijewski, wreck diving represents the logical next chapter for any Florida diver who has spent time on the reef and wants to understand what else the state’s waters hold. The preparation required is real, the training investment is meaningful, and the dives themselves, from a 70-foot artificial reef in the Keys to 85 feet of flight control tower on the Mighty O, are unlike anything coral can offer.