The night before Christmas

Twas the night before Christmas
And out in the sea
Were some mad scuba divers
My buddy and me

Location: Eastern Kings – Type: Shore/Reef – Max Depth: 3m – Length: 8 mins – Surface: Clear

In the weeks leading up to Christmas I decided I wanted to dive on Christmas Eve. I roped in (without any difficulty) a willing buddy and prompted to stamp my feet and moan every time the weather turned bad and another day of diving was cancelled in the fortnight beforehand, concerned that I wouldn't get my festive dive.
The day before, despite a few days of heavy rain and flooding in some parts of the country, my buddy (also an instructor and far more experienced than me) gave our little adventure the green light. I was warned that the vis would be pretty rubbish though. I didn't mind; any dive would do me however little we could see. It was Christmas, after all.

The eve of Christmas arrived and we met early evening to get kitted up in time to make ourselves look festive. Serious stuff aside, which included setting up my new BCD and regs for the first time, we moved onto the fun bit. I'd planned on Xmas hat and tinsel. A text from my buddy earlier that day alerted me to the fact she may have bigger ideas; 'I'm going to parcel myself later, so I may need your help!'. Now I do have a bit of a reputation for enjoying fancy dress, but I had to raise an eyebrow at this thought. Nevertheless, I'm game for a laugh and you know how the saying goes - if you can't beat the nutty scuba diver, join her!

My buddy and me wrapped for a scuba xmas

Trussed up in wrapping paper and realising that wearing it into the water may not be such a good idea as it was ripping with every step, we hopped in the van and headed to Devil's Point where the aim was to dive Eastern Kings; a reef that drops off to 30 metres on one side and 40 on the other. A quick check of the water revealed a calm moonlit sea so we were good to go. After decorating our BCDs and tanks with glowsticks (necessary to be able to see each other underwater in the dark) and unwrapping ourselves (!), we made our way down the path, onto the beach and into the sea.

It felt a little chilly at first as the water ran down the back of my wetsuit while I was being helped into my fins, but given that the air temp was 11c and the water temp had only gone down another degree to 10c in the last couple of weeks it was surprisingly nice. We descended and immediately realised the vis was practically zero. I lost my buddy straight away, then found her by bumping into her. If I could have attached myself to her I might've done at that point. Instead I just stayed as close as I possibly could next to her. Even that wasn't 100% effective; after losing her once and finding her again by pure luck after spotting a very faint glow in the distance (in reality she was probably about two metres away) we surfaced. By that point we'd barely gone anywhere and only made it three metres down!

We decided the planned dive was most definitely not dive-able. In daylight it may have just been doable as vis often improves at greater depth but at 9pm it wasn't going to happen! Disappointing, but we weren't willing to up sticks straight away. We decided on going back down for five minutes bimbling along the bottom to make the best of a bad situation. I wanted to use my new underwater camera and even though it was obvious not much was going to come out it was worth a shot!

This was about the extent of what we could see!

Amazingly, in all that murkiness, I did happen upon a little white crab making his way along the sand and tugged on my buddy's arm to let her know it was there. Of course when the signals are by torchlight and you can't see much anyway there wasn't much hope of relaying that message and crabby was too fast for me to follow. As I was attempting to make a crab sign (I figured wiggling my fingers around could work) she put her hand down to steady herself, exactly where I'd last seen the crab. Given that she wasn't wearing gloves, I was worried about the crab either being squashed or clinging onto her hand so pushed her out the way! I was only able to explain that palaver when I could speak later!

Back on the surface we took a few photos as evidence of our Christmas Eve dive (or dive attempt at least).

As I was trying to stand up to start making my way out I managed to fall over backwards. Not the first time I'd done this except this time as we were in really shallow water I'd forgotten to inflate my BCD when I came up. It was enough water to cover me so this upended turtle had to do a bit of breath holding while righting herself! Must inflate BCD next time! It did give me a moment to appreciate the moon though, almost full in the sky making the water glow around us.

Moment of reflection over, we made our way back to the van. It was a good couple of minutes’ walk so I not only got to test the new BCD in the sea, I tried out its fit on land and I'm glad to report the ScubaPro Bella is perfect for me. It was so comfortable! Very happy as I was a bit concerned it wouldn't be right for me trying it on beforehand, but as I kept reminding myself, I've only ever worn them with cylinder attached so I didn't have anything to compare.

As we hadn't taken any festive props into the water we stopped to snap a few Christmassy pics.

 

It seems we attracted the attention of a couple of lads in a passing car who couldn't believe they were seeing 'diver chicks' (yes folks, girls do dive) and that we'd actually already been in the water. So impressed were they that one of them hopped out to take a photo of us as evidence!

We may not have managed to do the dive we wanted but it was certainly the most novel Christmas Eve I've ever had and couldn't have been any more fun! My buddy summed it up perfectly; twas an epic adventure!

Progress

Location: Waterfront – Type: Shore – Max Depth: 7m – Length: 33 + 17 mins – Surface: Clear

What was supposed to be my final advanced dive, the deep dive to 30 metres, actually turned into my first dive without an instructor in the group. I've done fun dives before, but it just happens that usually there's an instructor buddying me or in the group. The boat had been cancelled so instead I made a group of four with others still wanting to get a dive in and headed to the Waterfront for a shore dive. The sun was shining splendidly and it was actually pleasantly warm getting ready. We entered off the small beach on the Hoe; to date I've only rolled in off the side or gone down the steps but low tide made beach access the easy option. Having said that, when you put your fins on you then have the walk, or waddle, backwards into the water so ‘easy’ may not be the best choice of word. I unceremoniously made my way in (aka stumbled) and settled (fell) into the sea.

We spent a little while paddling while one of our compatriots attempted to sort his fins out. He wasn't having much luck so we gave him a hand in the water. We didn't have much luck either! His fins were far too small! Fortunately there were students with us training that day so there were spare fins around and we soon set off. I was navigating, my buddy was holding the SMB and the boys were following behind. I have to say it's not the easiest of things multi-tasking underwater (no jokes please)! The vis wasn't that good so keeping track of the guys and keeping on course was interesting. I also had a habit of darting off a bit quickly so I need to work on that!

Along the way we saw sand gobies, a brittle star, spiny star fish and purple anemones. I also collected a couple of aluminium cans which I pocketed to dispose of later. If I'd had a bag with me I could've turned it into a recycling dive with the amount of rubbish that ends up near the sea wall.

I'd managed to navigate out in a straight line for a while before turning 120 degrees (I was working on a triangular pattern) and we'd got relatively close towards the sea wall before myself and my buddy realised we'd lost the boys. Standard practice is to look around for a minute then surface, which is what we did. We soon saw their SMB and went to join them. As we were only a few metres from the bottom we had plenty of air to continue the dive, but just a few minutes later they'd strayed again! Turns out they'd stopped to take photos!

One of the snaps taken on the dive when the boys' disappeared!

 

This time the rest of the group were getting a little cold and we were almost back to shore by that point so they went in and I joined another diver to carry on for a bit longer. We saw a female ballan wrasse fish on this stint. On researching ballan wrasse after the dive, I discovered that they are all born female and only a small proportion turn male after eight years. Obviously they're aware that females are the superior species!

I was holding the SMB this time round. When you're holding it you're meant to keep it at a reasonable distance from your body so you don't get tangled up in it. Hmm. I forgot that! There was suddenly something pulling on my fin and I ended up head down, feet up. I really thought someone was above me pulling me up. Then I realised I'd got caught up in the reel line! I managed to flag my buddy down who helped me untangle myself and we continued for a bit before surfacing.

The correct way to hold an SMB, away from your body. NB. The teacup is not essential for correct SMB positioning.

 

As neither of us had been paying much attention to a compass we ended up a bit far from shore so we took a bearing and descended again. Not for long! The low tide meant we were barely in two metres of water and kept popping back up to the surface. So we gave up on that idea and had a gentle paddle back in. It was quite an interesting vantage point to watch a huge warship head into the dockyard! I felt like a tiny fish myself!

We made it back in and out the water eventually. You'd think getting out on the beach would be far easier than climbing up large steps but the water got a lot shallower as we got in and I didn't realise that I was being pushed in towards shore. I ended up beaching myself on a rock! Having been dragged up once by my buddy I then had to be helped out the water by two of the guys who had gone in earlier as I couldn’t steady myself enough to get up! I wonder if my exits will ever start to look like I know what I'm doing?

Location: The Elk – Type: Wreck – Max Depth: 30m – Length: 28 mins – Surface: Overcast

Here we go! I'd finally got to the last dive on the advanced course. There aren't many skills involved on this one. The main thing is to make sure you can get down to 30 metres and still have your wits about you! As you descend further, the nitrogen in the air you’re breathing compresses more and you can be at risk of developing nitrogen narcosis. Basically, it means that you feel drunk underwater, so you get disorientated and could do something stupid. I've heard tales of people reaching for their BCD inflators with the intention of getting to the surface as soon as possible and being pounced on by their instructor/buddy while they get themselves under control; not something you want to be doing that far down! If it does occur, it can often be rectified by ascending a few metres, and it doesn’t necessarily mean it will happen again at the same depth.

We were heading to the Elk; an old trawler south of Plymouth’s breakwater used as a fishing boat which sank after hitting a mine in 1940. As we descended I was getting a few more ear problems than normal so it took a few minutes longer than usual, but I had expected it as I'd been ill the week before and still had a stuffy head. It wasn't bad enough to cancel the dive and I knew if I took it slowly I'd probably be okay. Fortunately I was right on this occasion. It's definitely not worth pushing it if you're in real pain though; the idea is you either manage to equalise or call it a day before that point and I know people who have had to do that.

After what seemed like ages, though in reality was probably only a few minutes, we hit the bottom. Instead of seeing a wreck, we'd ended up on the sandy bottom which was fortunate as I landed feet first, not quite realising we'd got there! You consume more air the deeper you go and it becomes harder to take breaths through the regulator. I knew I was breathing too quickly as I started to feel a little fuzzy. Fortunately the good thing was I realised I was doing it so I was able to correct myself quite quickly and start breathing at a more normal pace by taking a few slow, deep breaths with the support of my instructor who realised I was getting a little stressed. My surroundings were still a bit hazy but I knew I'd start to feel better soon so I plodded on.

We stopped on the sandy bottom to do the skills test; make five. The instructor holds up a certain number of fingers and you have to hold the amount up that makes the number up to five. I was fine on the first two doing it quite quickly. On the third he held up five fingers. It took me a minute to figure out how to make nought underwater (make a fist)! I thought he was trying to catch me out!

That done, we did a quick light test. The trainee divemaster shone a torch on something to show me the difference in colour once illuminated. I have to add that was after his torch was untangled from his BCD! Who says practise makes perfect? We continued to try to find the Elk. My instructor seemed quite happy with where he was going so I was happy to follow.

The deeper you get the less time you can stay down before you reach your no decompression limit so time was running short. I'm glad to say we did find the Elk and what a sight it was! It's only a small wreck but its deck is caved in and as such it's like a giant fish bowl! The critters are more than happy to have you swimming above them and continue on their path rather than darting out of the way. We were the only three diving the wreck at that point so I was told that had a lot to do with it. If you'd had a dozen divers down there they may have been more inclined to hide! We only had a few minutes on it but it definitely left me with a desire to get back onto it again soon. We surfaced with no drama, headed back to the centre and did the obligatory end of course photo for the certification. A few days later I was told that a somewhat embarrassed instructor, once I had left, had admitted that I'd come up having used less air than he had. The more experienced you are the less air you should use as you're more in control of your breathing so hearing this amused me! So there you have it, I'm now a qualified advanced open water diver. Wahoo!

A week later I tried to dive the Elk again, acting on the desire I'd had after the last time. Tried is the operative word though. We made it down 30 metres in somewhat rough conditions following another boat's shot line. No wreck in site! After a bit of a paddle along the bottom we called it a day and came up. So the Elk is still on the list to do properly! I was glad I had a chance to do another deep dive though. This time I was in control of my breathing the whole time and felt incredibly comfortable at that depth. I can't wait to do some more exploring.

The guiding light of nav and night

Time certainly flies when you’re underwater. Okay, so that’s not much of an excuse for the time since the last post, but I’ve been spending a fair bit of time down yonder and haven’t had time to sit down and type on the surface. Real life got in the way…until now! We left off with the completion of my second adventure dive towards the advanced qualification, so that’s where I’ll pick up.

Location: Jennycliff Bay – Type: Reef – Max Depth: 8.9m – Length: 48 mins – Surface: Clear

It was a rather chilly morning for the navigation adventure dive a week or so into November; 2c when I left home first thing but the blue skies and sunshine made the early start worth it and I’ve come to learn that if you’re a little nippy on the surface, once you get under the water you’ll be feeling toasty (okay, minor exaggeration, but definitely not freezing).

The first thing to do was refresh my memory on how to use a compass. We touched on it briefly in the open water course, but the last time I actually used a compass for navigation skills (you may wonder what else a compass can be used for) was around 12 years ago in a school PE lesson when, in orienteering, we were taught how to ‘move your body round the map’. Well I’ll tell you something; that ain’t a lot of help underwater! It’s a bit like when they said maths would come in useful one day…still waiting! School lesson inadequacies aside, we practiced on dry land and I made a half decent attempt to navigate a square. Somehow I kept ending up walking into a bollard in the car park when I didn’t start at that point but it was on the same line so it was close enough for me.

Once out on the boat and into the water (12c temp, certainly can’t complain), the real skills tests began. Jennycliff Bay is a reef, but for the purposes of this dive we lurked (no, not in that way) on the outer edges on the sandy bottom (again, it’s not how it sounds) so we had a level playing field to practice. As it was, the visibility wasn’t particularly good so it was a case of staying close together and next to the shot line and take it in turns (there were four of us doing the skills) with our instructor instructing (strangely enough) on what task was next. As well as using a compass, we had to use natural navigation, for example taking note of lines in the sand and following the channel along, or using a particular rock (where we were there weren’t many) to recognise where you started. I chose a reasonably sized starfish along the way using the theory that if he was on the left of me on the way out and the right of me on the way back I was going the right way. It seemed to do the trick (though in retrospect, he could have moved)! While one of us was doing that skill, your buddy had to count kick cycles (one cycle = every time you kick with a particular leg) and stop you when you’d done a pre-determined number. This went relatively well, though we hadn’t quite grasped that we had to stay really close to each other for this to work so by the time the person counting had let the other one go and started counting behind, buddy number one was left wondering why they hadn’t been stopped yet while buddy number two was frantically trying to catch up to let number one know they could stop! I’d imagine if we’d been filmed I’d have had to add the music that accompanies this video (stick with it, my point is made around 10 seconds in)…

(Please note, I don’t condone the idea of a shrimp on a treadmill, I actually feel sorry for the little fella, but who knew you’d get this result on YouTube when searching for the Benny Hill theme tune?)

The compass work didn’t go quite as well in the water as it did on land. Both myself and my buddy had difficulty getting the compass to work. We’d get to turn three and completely lose track of where we were because the needle wouldn’t move. Given that we both had the same problem we blamed the compass (naturally) despite our instructor proving that it worked a bit later. You win some, you lose some; we’re sticking to our story!

Advanced dive three complete, it was back to the dive centre in somewhat warmer conditions. The air temperature had crept up to around 11c by late morning but despite that, I’d come prepared and I was therefore going to wear my penguin hat to keep me warm! I possibly should have reassessed keeping it on after I’d changed. I got some funny looks in Sainsbury’s.

Location: Waterfront – Type: Shore – Max Depth: 10m – Length: 27 mins – Surface: Clear

The next course dive to check off the list was the night adventure, even though I’ve done a night dive before, albeit by accident (see below for that story). This time we started in the dark, as opposed to it gradually getting dark, so it was a case of kitting up on the side of the road and walking cautiously down the stairs to the edge of the water. It was a reasonable 11c air temp – considering it was 7.30pm in mid-November that’s pretty good going and meant there was no shivering this time round!

As the tide was in, it made entry pretty easy. It was a case of one step, two step, hello sea. One of the instructors had the job of putting four pairs of fins on us students; I’m sorry to say none of us have yet mastered putting these on in the water by ourselves! By that point my usually highly efficient torch was behaving inefficiently so the instructor switched it with his, reassuringly calling it the ‘sun’. I was reassured for all of five minutes when the ‘sun’ set. Not to worry; my instructor who was leading the group and buddying me had more than enough torch for the both of us, though I still carried on gripping mine in the hope that it might perk up again…it didn’t! I think someone needs to check the charger!

There wasn’t much by way of skills tests on this dive. It was more about acclimatisation to only being able to see by torchlight, but as this was the second time I’d found myself in this scenario it made for a relaxed evening. We practiced hand signals by torchlight (shadow puppets spring to mind) taking care not to blind anyone whilst doing so. We also had to really be aware of staying close together. One of the guy’s behind me in a different buddy pair said afterwards that all he could see was yellow fins and sand. I recommended not swimming quite so close to me in future!

Just the one dive left to become an advanced diver. As ever, plans are never fixed when it comes to timetabling dives, so it was to be another two weeks before I managed my deep dive, with a fun shore dive interlude in between. More on that next time!

Advancing on the Open Water: A Tale of Two Wrecks

Well, I’ve taken the plunge and signed up for the Advanced Open Water course to become qualified to dive to 30 metres. I want the choice of the majority of dives on offer with my club rather than having to stick to sites above 18m. I also want to be able to deep dive when I head off on my travels to Australia next year, which was what drove me to start scuba diving in the first place. Snorkelling may be enough for some on the Great Barrier Reef, but I want the best experience I can get!

In the last two weeks I’ve completed two of my five adventure dives towards the qualification. There’s a list to choose from, along with a couple of mandatories, which includes the deep dive which takes you to 30m. The main one I really wanted to do was the photography module but the visibility hasn’t been too great lately as the days get colder and darker so it looks like I might have to put that on the back burner, get the course done, and do that as a guided dive some other time.

I’m becoming increasingly aware that the sea’s getting colder (no sh*t Sherlock) and my wetsuit, though thick, may not be thick enough to give me a comfortable dive in the depth of an English winter (albeit on the warmer side of the coast). But I’m going to give it a damn good go!

Location: HMS Abelard – Type: Scattered Wreck – Max Depth: 11m – Length: 34 mins – Surface: Clear

As I set out for this dive from home at 8am the air temperature outside was 6c and inside my house it was 13c (yes, I did turn the heating on after that wake up call). The day before I’d been asking various people what the chances of the sea being warmer than the surface temp are. It wasn’t looking promising, but you learn something new every day. The sea is most certainly not like your bath (as in it doesn't cool down quickly, obviously I'm aware it isn't hot with bath bubbles) and I was surprised (shocked) to find it was a reasonable 14c. I was more than comfortable in my 10mm of neoprene. The boat trip on the other hand was a bit chilly. Fortunately the dive site was just off Plymouth’s breakwater, so it wasn’t much of a trip.

This dive was logged as my boat adventure dive, so even though I’ve dived off the boat a number of times before, this time I had to pay more attention to a detailed briefing to complete the knowledge review at the end. Once we’d rolled off the side of the RIB, it was back to enjoying the dive just like any other. It wasn’t particularly far down to the sea floor and once there we had a gentle paddle around the wreck site, with debris strewn far and wide. We didn’t manage to find the boiler, it’s there somewhere, but instead stumbled upon old lead pipes (sounds like something out of Cluedo) and other metal objects which no doubt came from the HMS Abelard; an old steam trawler which had been converted into a mine sweeper only to be sunk after getting on the wrong side of a mine on Christmas Eve 1916.

A few smaller fish, some starfish and crabs made for interesting viewing, but the highlight once again was a catshark, spotted by our instructor who, after a while of pointing, resorted to becoming a shark (hand, fin, head) to make us aware of our new friend. My last viewing of one of these was a couple of dives back and just like the last time, he casually sat on the bottom awaiting our passing, seemingly not bothered by four large black odd-shaped creatures. Bet his little heart was racing; he just put on a good show!

Location: HMS Scylla – Type: Wreck – Max Depth: 18m – Length: 32 mins – Surface: Overcast, choppy

I’ve wanted to do a wreck dive for a while; my previous attempts to dive another wreck, the Glen Strathallen, haven’t come to pass for various reasons. And so it was that my first was to be on HMS Scylla, a well-known wreck deliberately sunk off Whitsand Bay by the National Marine Aquarium in 2004 to become an artificial reef after it was decommissioned by the Royal Navy.

HMS Scylla was Europe's first artificial reef (MORE INFO HERE)

 

The trip out to the Scylla was somewhat of a thrill ride to say the least. With an air temp of around 10c and the sky looking an ominous grey, it was chilly. By the time we’d got out past the breakwater on the boat, the waves were building and the wind was biting. After being slapped in the face by a wave more than a few times, I donned my mask and snorkel; it was a wise choice! With the sea getting rougher, it took a while for the shot line to settle on the Scylla after a few attempts, which made one wet diver (I was the only one not in a drysuit) rather cold and wishing for a hot shower, and that was before getting in.

After a very wobbly kitting up session, we made it in and headed straight on down to calmer waters. As we got towards the wreck I could make out the general shape and not much else, thinking that the visibility must be really bad. It took a few moments to realise that my mask was steamed up. In my haste to get off the boat I’d passed my mask to the instructor to dip into the sea (I wasn’t trying that manoeuvre myself in such choppy conditions) but hadn’t spat on it first; the sure fire way to make sure you don’t steam up. After my instructor realised my predicament (I was told later it was pretty obvious despite my attempts to signal this by pointing at my mask and shrugging) he settled me on the deck and showed me how to clear it by letting a bit of water in, washing the lenses and getting rid of the water again. I was greeted by an array of fish swimming in front of me – amazing when you go from seeing barely anything to a whole new viewpoint!

The rest of the dive was taken up with skills tests which I had to pass as part of the course, including laying a line on the wreck to navigate, pointing out hazards (holes you shouldn’t go in) and releasing a delayed surface marker buoy (SMB) which is used for the boat to find you if you’ve drifted from the shot line. When you’re releasing one of these, you fill the inflatable part up with air from your octopus (spare regulator) and let go, being sure that you’re holding the trigger on the attached line down so that when the inflatable shoots off towards the surface you don’t go with it!

As I was concentrating on the tasks I had to do, I didn’t take much notice of the marine life around me. There was a bit of a current at 18m so I needed to focus on what I was doing whilst trying not to bash into the side of the frigate. There were a lot dead men’s fingers (I’ve been told if you go to the Scylla and don't see these you’re diving the wrong wreck), starfish and some small to medium sized fish. Others saw a couple of types of wrasse and various other species. I’ll have to wait until next time to fully appreciate the life around the reef.

Dead Mens' Fingers - each finger is a colony of tiny animals

 

That was my wreck adventure dive done and all challenges complete. I can’t say I felt that I performed the tasks particularly well, but I was assured I did the best I could considering the conditions. Onwards and upwards I guess. And upwards we went, into even higher waves. I was wrapped in a blanket as soon as I got on the boat, despite my protests. I’m so glad they did, as it soon got bitterly cold and by the time the other divers got back and we’d floated around for a while trying to pull the buoy attached to the shot line up in the worsening waves, I wasn’t feeling so hot (in more ways than one) either. It felt like a long trip back in but once inside the breakwater things started to get back to normal. It was just the cold I was left with, cured by a hot shower quickly after returning thanks to the kindness of one of my instructors who had clocked the serious shivering and offered to take my kit back to the dive centre. I can’t say how grateful I was!

Playing catch-up: four dives later

You may well wonder where I’ve been for the last couple of months. A lot of it was spent in London volunteering at the greatest sporting event in the world; happens every four years, you know the one! I was fortunate enough to be selected as a reporter for the Olympic News Service working on water polo. Water is obviously the connection there to scuba diving, but the rest is a story for a different place.

Prior to that month on dry land where the only water I went in was chlorinated, I did go on a little bimble to Fairylands, somewhere out past Wembury.

Location: Fairylands – Type: Reef – Max Depth: 16m – Length: 27 mins – Surface: Clear

Fairylands - sounds magical doesn’t it? I’m sure it is on a clear day but the sea just wasn’t playing nicely and the vis wasn’t great. It was still a good dive, don’t get me wrong, but after the dream-like visions of the last trip and the disappointment of having a dive cancelled in between the two, I was hoping for more. We went down as a group of about six and skirted around the edge of the reef for a lot of the time, so there wasn’t much marine life to see. A couple of crabs clinging to the reef aren’t to be knocked though. Alas, there’s always next time...or so I thought.

I was quite keen to get back underwater on my return to Plymouth so I joined a boat dive mid-August to Hilsea Point, five miles out around the Noss Mayo area.

Location: Hilsea Point – Type: Reef – Max Depth: 20m – Length: 11 mins – Surface: Sunny

It took around 30 minutes once we’d got to our location for the two other groups to kit up and drop off the boat and our group of three to follow. We fell into the sea (deliberately, of course), located the shot line (a rope with a weight on one end and float on the other to guide you to your dive point) and descended. And descended. And descended. The instructor had almost hit 20 metres (I was hovering at my 18 metre limit just above) and we couldn’t see a thing, barring each other at close quarters. The decision was made (via hand signals and raised eyebrows) to surface. With the obligatory three minute stop at five metres, our ‘dive’ (and I say that loosely) lasted all of 11 minutes. It turns out the shot line had drifted off the reef in the time it had taken us to get in the water and we ended up half a mile from the other groups with only water for company. We interrupted the skipper’s sunbathing session (it was a glorious day) to get back on board and await the return of the other divers. Always look on the bright side and all that though. We may not have seen anything underwater but we were treated to a sunfish dancing in the calm waves off the tail-end of another dive boat. It wasn’t there for long and we couldn’t see much of it but I’m told they’re a marvel of the ocean and I felt lucky to have seen one.

What the sunfish encounter might have looked like underwater

Last weekend’s dive made up for the previous two. This time I headed back to the Mewstone, the location of my first and best boat dive to date.

Location: Mewstone – Type: Reef – Max Depth: 16.1m – Length: 38 mins – Surface: Sunny

The visibility was a good 8 to 10 metres and the sea bed was awash with colour and life from tiny shoals of pretty fish to bigger, uglier (I’m sure their mothers love them) ones. There was the usual array of sea urchins and starfish and crabs. And the pièce de résistance? A lesser spotted dogfish, also known as a small spotted catshark (not overly sure why the name variants). To all intents and purposes these toothy creatures are small sharks. Ours was around 3ft long, possibly smaller accounting for water magnification, but the spotty fella seemed more than happy to swim alongside us for a minute.

A lesser spotted dogfish, or small spotted catshark, similar to ours

The dive was supposed to be a drift dive. The idea is that the current pulls you along so you effortlessly glide enjoying the scenery. That’s the idea. What happened is that myself and my two buddies hadn’t ‘planned the dive’ as you’re taught to do by PADI in your initial training. We’d not dived together as a three before and my last minute vocals for someone to volunteer to lead the party before we entered the water had gone unfounded. I thought we were following buddy two, buddy two thought they were following me (you see the problem), buddy three took to the back of the pack to hold the SMB (a line with an inflatable float attached so your boat can see where you are) and left both of us to it. So we’d made it hard for ourselves by going against the current and were exhausted on surfacing, but we’d learnt our lesson and mutually decided to discuss who would lead next time! The exhaustion was aided by the time holding onto the inflatable SMB in what was becoming a not so calm sea signalling to the boat that we were ready to be picked up before they eventually saw us. I think others were getting on the boat from a different point, but by the time I was dragged on it (I was too tired to help much) I forgot to ask and talk quickly turned to the afternoon’s sightings while the warm September breeze passed us by as we limped (this isn’t an error, the boat was sick) to shore.

I was lucky that one of my buddies on that dive had an underwater camera and whilst he didn’t manage to capture the lesser spotted dogfish, he did get a great shot of a less than lesser spotted...well, me!

A rare species

Comparing this photo to one of a birthday present I received from some good friends a few weeks earlier, with my newly-bought fluorescent yellow mask and snorkel and matching yellow fins (which are just out of shot here), I do in fact greatly resemble a diving smurf.

The birthday diving smurf

I wonder if I should go the whole hog and get a white hood?

The need to do more diving after the extended break led to my second dive in a week one evening after work. I headed back to the point of my Open Water training; a shore dive off the waterfront on Plymouth Hoe.

Location: Waterfront – Type: Shore – Max Depth: 7.6m – Length: 31 mins (6 min interval) – Surface: Clear

We agreed on two dives, surfacing for a few minutes to get our bearings then heading back down to allow one of my buddies (we were a trio) to navigate back to shore to practise his skills. At one point we ended up pretty close to the sea wall...I think he needs to keep working on the navigation!

We came across a number of solo swimmers, your average Joe fish and a few smaller starfish, the norm really, until my buddy, frantically shining his torch at the two of us to stop us continuing, moved aside some kelp to reveal the mother of all starfish! It was white and at least 1.5ft, possibly 2ft wide. So impressed was I that I lost concentration on keeping afloat and almost landed on the poor creature. A frantic manoeuvre later, which might have involved a sideways roll, I’d managed to avoid him and compose myself. The next treat was a dab, which we thought might have come to a sad end on the sea floor but nope, he was just kipping, until he got a rude awakening by my buddy checking his life status! Lucky for him one of my buddies didn’t have a knife on him as he informed us later that he’d not eaten yet and the dab would have looked great next to some chips.

The second of the two dives turned into a night dive pretty soon after descending. I hadn’t been prepared for this but my two far more experienced buddies were, and came prepared with powerful underwater torches. It’s a very surreal feeling being underwater in the dark. It’s peaceful, but there are the moments when the torchlight doesn’t quite suffice and you’re left in an eerie underwater forest of shadows, with kelp blighting your path, more authoritative than in daylight. It’s almost as if they’re the prison guards of the sea and they know they have the upper hand.  

This was a relatively shallow pair of dives and as such I had trouble getting my buoyancy right. When I was closer to the surface (around 4-5m) I just kept floating on up and a few times one of my buddies (a dive instructor) had to grab me by the fin and pull me back down! Possibly more weight needed in shallow water next time. Having said that, I don’t think more weight will help my cause to get back on dry land. The feeling of weightlessness in the water drops like a (forgive the pun) lead weight when you try to stand to climb up the rocks out of the sea. I managed to get one fin off, someone else had to do the other, and just as I started attempt one of the climb I fell over (at the point where I was being told don’t fall, you won’t be able to get up) and ended up on my back with the gas cylinder pinning me down. I must have looked like an upended turtle. I thought boat entries were hard but this was a different experience altogether! Needless to say I required help to safely return to shore. Unfortunately in the diving world ‘I’m a girl’ really doesn’t get you anywhere. I’m going to have to man-up as I continue my scuba-ventures.

A dive of many firsts

Location: The Mewstone, Wembury

Type: Reef

Max Depth Achieved: 17.9 metres

Dive Length: 37 minutes

Surface Conditions: Choppy

Last night’s dive off the Mewstone past Wembury was nothing short of amazing. It was my first dive as a qualified scuba diver, my first boat dive, my first time in a RIB, my first dive past an eight metre depth – a lot of firsts then!

The RIB ride out to the Mewstone was better than any theme park ride. The wind was getting up which made the sea pretty choppy so it was exceptionally bumpy with waves coming straight at us. Combine that with the rain and I think we were wetter on the boat than we were in the sea (at least the guys in drysuits were)! I was glad to be sat on the seat in the middle of the boat rather than on the side which some of the more adventurous folk did, or even lie down on the side of the RIB – it’s the senior instructor’s ‘spot’ apparently! Not convinced how safe it is but when you’ve been diving for years...

Getting your kit on in the boat takes some skill, a bit of balance and a lot of luck, especially in rough seas! You do the best you can sat down then, in my case, be glad you’re a girl and let the blokes hoist the tank and the like onto your back. I had a couple of jumpy moments when I was sat on the side with equipment on waiting for the others to kit up. I can’t say it was the best feeling knowing that a tiny shuffle backwards and I’d be in the water without actually meaning to!

Awaiting the launch (right) with Gemma

On the count of three (we went in as a three and the fourth came in after) we launched ourselves backwards and in a split second were bobbing up and down in the waves.

The descent seemed overly easy considering on my other dives I’d had trouble equalizing my ears and this time we went a lot deeper, but thankfully I only had to stop a couple of times. Let’s hope that’s the way forward!

The deeper we got the lighter it seemed to get and suddenly you’re in a completely different world, full of sea urchins and starfish clinging to the colourful reef. I was in awe of my surroundings. The senior instructor signed the ‘ok’ hand signal to me. The etiquette here is that you use the same signal back to confirm that you’re happy and have no problems. In all the excitement this went out of my head and I just did what you’d do on the surface to signal that all’s ok – both thumbs up! In the diving world that means ‘go up’! I promptly realised that was the wrong signal and changed to the right one and he said afterwards that he fortunately realised I was quite happy as he could see the grin on my face despite the regulator in my mouth!

We spent the best part of 40 minutes in the water and I couldn’t get enough. There were dozens of sea urchins and white starfish. One of the highlights was a purple starfish. After consulting the marine guide back at the dive centre we decided he was a ‘Bloody Henry’. There were a couple of crabs; one rather round and white, another more spindly but still a decent size. Some medium size fish (probably not more than six inches) and schoals of tiny fish which I totally ended up swimming with at one point when I landed on the sea bed. I say landed because I was trying to control my buoyancy (unsuccessfully) and ended up lying on the floor before I sorted myself out as I didn’t want to fin too much for fear of harming the starfish! I’m pretty sure that’s when I hit my maximum depth of 17.9 metres. Given that the open water qualification allows you to dive to 18 metres I was pretty impressed by that!

I was also particularly impressed by the nifty bit of kit on my arm which is known as a depth timer or bottom timer. It’s basically a large watch with an in-built depth gauge which one of the guys who uses it as his backup in case his dive computer fails lent me, but it was so useful to be able to see what depth I was at. Without it I think I might’ve been quite disorientated so I’ll be getting me one of those quick smart!

Heading back to the surface we did a three minute safety stop at five metres. I think I managed to hover somewhere between four and six which apparently wasn’t too bad considering conditions on the surface weren’t making things easy. Just as we were about to get above water I spied a jellyfish! He was quite small and clear with a red tinge to the outer edges. We still had our regs in so all I could do was point – I think the others thought I was having a fit!

The weather had really deteriorated on the surface; it was raining hard, the sky was dark and the sea was really choppy which made getting back onto the boat, once it found us, interesting! Using the most graceful technique possible (hmm) it was one, two, three and lift yourself as far out the sea as possible grabbing hold the side of the boat while a fellow diver pushes you up and another pulls you onboard.

The aim is graceful dolpin, I achieved beached whale!

I managed it on the second go, not bad for the first time, especially considering my mask had slipped down over my mouth and was still covering my nose so I was having a hard time breathing! I’m not convinced I’ll do much better next time!

Watch out fishies, here I come!

I passed! As of 5^th July I’m now a PADI Open Water certified scuba diver ready to be let loose in the sea. Somebody warn the marine life!

During the last couple of weeks I’ve completed my four obligatory open water dives – all shore dives off the waterfront on Plymouth Hoe over two evenings.  On the first night realisation dawned that diving is a far from glamorous hobby. With all the equipment lined up on the pavement alongside the road above the steps down to the entry point, the next obvious step was to get changed. My first question: “Is there any etiquette to this or do you literally just...?” That’s right, you just strip! No holds barred, the dry clothes come off and the wetsuit goes on (or rather you look a bit of a tit as you wiggle your way into it occasionally jumping in the air to aid the pulling up millimetre by painful millimetre). If you’ve prepared in advance you will of course make sure you’re already wearing your swimming togs before getting yourself into this precarious situation!  

The result...

Yes, seal was my first thought too.

Full kit on, down the steps (so much easier to say than do with 10kg weights and a 12l tank on your back), final checks complete (this was where one of the instructors reminded me it helps to turn your air on – mental note made) and it was into the sea off the rocks in a not so graceful roll sideways into the water from a crouching position (make like you’re going skiing and someone just hung a large weight off your right arm).

In the water we discovered I was overweighted (if someone hadn’t been holding onto me during these checks I would have sunk) but we figured with extra inflation I’d survive (turn of phrase – I was perfectly safe). Actually, that was probably a bad decision, as I spent most the dive being propped up by one of the instructors as I kept rolling to the side, but you live and learn! Despite the dodgy choice of equipment (my BCD – the inflatable jacket – was also too big but I blame myself for that as I know what size I am and should’ve checked I’d been given the right one) and the lack of visibility (I couldn’t figure out who was who), I made it through all the skills tests without too much drama and got back onto dry land (with help – your legs feel like lead weights after getting out of the water) feeling like I’d accomplished something, though not feeling as exhilarated as I’d hoped because of the extra effort involved in righting the kit malfunctions. Having said that, it was my first ever sea dive and not something I’ll forget in a hurry!

The second night on the water (or underwater) was a different experience altogether. I made sure I had all of the right kit (down to the extra small fins which no one could figure out why I needed as I’m an average size 5 usually) and I knew what to expect. I loved it from start to finish! I made it through all the skills tests...eventually! I had a slight problem with remembering to start kicking to propel myself to the surface during a controlled emergency swimming ascent but I got there with gentle encouragement. The best part by far was having a bimble (I have it on good authority that’s a highly technical scuba term) along the sea floor. The seaweed (or kelp) in itself was interesting with the odd sea snail (yes, I’m making names up now) attached, but my first ‘proper’ find was a crab, or part thereof. Okay, so he wasn’t a whole live crab, I’d found a claw of a previously departed and sorely missed crustacean (I don’t know, but I suspect his friends may have written something along those lines in his eulogy) which caused a bit of amusement when my instructor picked it up and started mock attacking me with it. It really is hard to laugh underwater! My best discoveries of the dive were some little fishies. They really were very little fishies but I was enthralled by them. Who knows what they thought of me peering at them through what must have looked like a giant window but they were very cute. A bit too quick for me to chase though! I also saw a tiny starfish, which I didn’t realise was a starfish until I was told later (it looked like a tiny white octopus to me)!

It’s all very well describing all of these discoveries, what I need is photos! Evidence to aid the descriptions. My PADI book says that I should have an aim and mine is definitely to take the underwater photography speciality at some point. It certainly won’t be my only aim and I want to make myself more comfortable with ‘normal’ scuba diving first, but I will get there. In the meantime, I may have to hijack images from any budding photographers who happen to be on the same dives as me, but there’s nothing like being able to put your name to a photo. Now, if someone wins the lottery and would like to help me out with the costs I’d be much obliged!

If you found yourself playing out the reverse of the getting undressed and into your wetsuit scenario in your mind earlier, I’ll help you out. Back on the side of the road (people walking by, cars driving past) imagine a group of people peeling themselves out of wetsuits/drysuits and then cautiously attempting to remove wet undergarments and replace with dry ones under a towel whilst trying to avoid the possibility of being arrested for indecent exposure... there’ll be plenty more occasions to hone that skill, I’m sure!

If you have to keep a dive log, why not keep a dive blog?

It’s really important for scuba divers to keep a dive log, so, as I was sat in theory session number four of my PADI Open Water course listening to that advice, naturally paying full attention to everything that was being said, I thought ‘If you have to keep a dive log, why not keep a dive blog?’.  That’s how Searching for Nemo was born.

In the last four weeks, I’ve completed a weekly theory session and three confined water (that’s swimming pool to you and me) dives and I can’t wait to learn more. It helps that the guys at the dive centre I’m training with know their stuff and make it enjoyable. As one of my instructors said the other week, if you know how to have a laugh, it makes scuba diving all the more fun, and this course has certainly provided a few good laughs so far, on dry land and in the water, mainly at my expense. It’s a running joke in my family that intelligence doesn’t equal common sense. I’ve provided hours of unintentional entertainment with my Homer Simpson-inspired ‘doh’ moments.

Last week I spent half of the pool session upside down. In my infinite wisdom I decided to test out my new (eBay-new) 7mm wetsuit. A standard summer wetsuit is 3mm, a winter one 5mm, a 7mm is made for scuba diving...in the sea, not in a swimming pool. The thicker the wetsuit the more buoyant you are. In other words, you float, but in this case in an up, up and away style. It’s fine when you’ve got an air tank on your back and weights on to keep you down, not so much when you have to do an exercise where you remove your Buoyancy Control Device (BCD) and put it back on again underwater. Cue head down, flippers up (I know, flippers are for dolphins, scuba divers wear ‘fins’, but seriously – fins?), trying to put the jacket back on whilst ‘standing’ upside down. My classmate found out how hard it is to laugh underwater with a regulator in your mouth whilst trying desperately not to choke that day.

A pre-requisite of the course is that you must be able to swim 200 metres non-stop and float for 10 minutes on your back at the surface. The 200 metres was by no means easy, even in a wetsuit, but the floating was a different story altogether. This is where a thick wetsuit helps considerably – you just lay back and think of...anyway, not that I knew it but 10 minutes passed, I’m relaxed, I have my eyes closed, my ears are underwater, I’m being tapped on the arm. I look up to four instructors lining the side of the pool cheering my return to reality. It really is difficult to hear anything with your ears underwater!

Misinterpretation is a good one for humour. The instructor asked what I would do if I had a problem with my ear underwater. Only I thought he’d said a problem with your ‘rear’. I spent the next few minutes chuckling away to myself and had to ask for the question to be repeated before I could attempt a remotely intelligible answer.

Everyone loves a bit of innuendo too. In my case it’s often purely accidental. I had a problem with my regulator, so had to switch my equipment for the instructor’s so it’d be easier for me to breath. ‘Get your kit off’, he tells me, followed by an ‘in the nicest possible sense’. We traded equipment and I couldn’t find the submersible pressure gauge which shows you how much air you have left. The instructor handed it to me and, realising it’s a lot smaller than the standard training ones, my response? - ‘You’ve got a tiny one.’ I can’t say I twigged until I got a confused ‘excuse me?’ in return! Foot in mouth, that’s me.

Oh, back on the 7mm wetsuit. They really are difficult to put on. A friend advised (and I use the term advised in the loosest possible sense) me that by putting plastic bags on my feet the wetsuit would slip on easier. I think it helped slightly, but he didn’t tell me it’d be difficult to remove the bags once you’d got it on. Some tugging later and I managed to pull them out. Taking the wetsuit off at the end of the session was a lot easier. One foot, two feet, carrier bag handle...yes, I had gone through the session with the leftovers of the bag in my wetsuit.