Plymouth July 2005

On 29 th July Tim Miles, Steve Hills Chris King Eddie Foo Paul McCloghrie and I stood in the car park at the Montbatten pub Plymouth wondering how to get a mountain of dive gear which included Steve’s twin 18s and some 12 stage cylinders across the assault course which stood between us and the landing stage where at some point our boat, the pessimistically named Storm, would arrive to embark us on the first of three days diving.

We hoped for good weather but the gods had other ideas. Cold wet and overcast, but diving was the business of the day so I was happy, That was until the water taxi pulled up and started loading from our pier. How were we going to look hardcore on a boat with mums and kids’ heading off to Tesco. This was looking distinctly bad and we still had the gear to haul. Then suddenly little trolleys appeared and the kit was moved as if by magic (believe that and you’ believe anything). The water taxi had gone so things were getting better at any rate, as Storm pulled alongside we were ready to go.

How’s it looking skipper. What news from the vast array of billion dollar scientific weather monitoring systems. "Lets see what it looks like when we get there" was the reply. Which was interpreted as skipper talk for I don’t fancy it but can make you all seasick if you insist. Been here before and lost.

We decide to change site and dive the Elk a mine victim from WW2, she was herself a mine sweeper having been requisitioned from the day job of trawling for cod. At 30m and close enough inshore to avoid the worst of the weather it proved a good choice. We took take stages to check out kit configurations, in the event a wise move. Our trim was predictably fine, avoiding a smack in the face from heavy dive gear designed to hang from harnesses was something else. Exiting Storm is great, a really cool way to get off a boat, unfortunately landing on ones back puts extended range kit in precisely the place its not wanted. Happily we all mastered it first go without any problems although I must admit when Steve hit the water with twin the 18s I thought I glimpsed the seabed. The ensuing mini tsunami cased no more than an abnormally high tide at Cawsand.

I remember little of the dive apart from the Elk was small and Chris King can scream like a castrato if he needs your attention. Safely back aboard we looked for flat water and lunch, except we didn’t have any, lunch that is. Three hours later we are over the rail again, this time its JEL. Very good dive that gained a ghostly quality thanks to the milky viz.

The huge ship with its cliff like sides seemed to go on indefinitely. A forest of marine plant life on what was left of the deck swept by the current like tall grass on a windy day. A surreal experience, diving is addictive and this is why. You can’t experience this anywhere else. Gauges are saying time to go and we head for the surface. First up we got Rods attention and Storm motored over I grabbed the line and hauled myself up the ladder. About a minute later I am in trouble, kneeling on a rail the width of your average widow cill 30 kg of scuba unit on my back Storm is rolling and I am losing my balance because of the swaying stage cylinder still clipped to my harness. The prospect hitting the deck head first under these circumstances was nowhere near the top of the list for things I had planned. Somehow I managed to hang on and get inboard as the boat righted with the next wave. Thereafter I converted to a more conservative approach, which worked very nicely. Removing kit whilst perched on a ladder may sound undesirable but it beats the alternative. I should have listened to Mate/Landlady Anne but no harm done. The days been good, lots of laughs and we learned how to get off and back onto Storm so we are set for the weekend. The evening comprises obligatory Indian and a few beers, student bar or sleep depending on your preference

Saturday breakfast is subdued, one of our number has a painful shoulder. We all have it’s the 18s. Anyway Tim thinks he may be bent. He does have some flamboyant clothes some to think of it. The DDRC is just down the road and Steve has volunteered to drive him. We wave them goodbye and set of for the Mountbatten centre to pick up the cylinders. Do we look like mugs? Oh yes. Three of us wrestle the 18s up the steps to the car much to the amusement of two of our Northern cousins who enquire not too politely as to the size of owner. How big is the blerk who uses them. lads? We ignored it anyway there were bigger issues. Eddies had parked for convenience, his. Result half of Plymouth gridlocked we had to move on and fast.

Tim checked out OK but decided not to dive just in case so we nominated him to make tea all day. Kit loaded we set off. "What’s the forecast skipper ? " Rod, Concern on his face, told a by now familiar tale. "Don’t worry we’ll risk it". "HMS Foyle please".

An hour or so later we are kitting up. 47m, 20 mins bottom time, the slates are written up with the decompression schedules should the computers fail. Stage cylinders are clipped on and we are over the side for what promised to be a good dive.

Paul and Eddie followed by the remaining Stortford contingent. Diving a three always seems to present its problems and ours were not far away. Steve Chris and I descend in that order, Viz is not great so we are not concerned about what’s to see until 40m when a wreck should start to appear. Seconds later we find ourselves on the bottom and the only metal object in sight is the shot. That’s great. (its irony) We have two problems, three if you include the absence of HMS Foyle. Computers reading 49m so 50 to the bottom. Mate Anne had informed me that the sounder had the wreck at 46 so something is not right. This puts us below Chris’ MOD. We have an idea where to look which should take us the wreck and 46 m but are into the 10 th minute of the dive following a problem with my primary DV at 6m where time was lost making checks. A quick look at the others confirms it. OK and thumbs up signals are acknowledged. We leave with mixed feelings but safety is the only consideration.

Back on Storm we wait for Paul and Eddie, they managed to find the wreck and had a great dive. We swap stories and head for sheltered water and lunch. The afternoon dive is a well broken wreck, huge boilers which are the home of a giant conger, loads of life and a cuttlefish we follow around for five minutes. I will freely admit that conservation apart I have no interest in fish. They get in the way of the wrecks but this little creature was truly fascinating you really could watch it all day. Sadly not enough gas for that but in honour of the little chap and because I cant remember the name of the wreck I have logged the dive as ‘Cuttlefish’.

An entertaining evening of inane banter in a pub where the food and service threatened to redefine the lower limit of acceptablity but we were hungry and the company was very good. Early night for tired divers, we have a big day tomorrow assuming there is something at the end of the shot.

Sunday looks good, we cruise out of Plymouth on a flat calm sea. Skipper Rods usual mantra see what it looks like ect. He has been around too long to ignore but diving conditions do look favourable at the very least. We head for the Medoc another WW2 wreck, a French freighter requisitioned for war work and sunk by bombers whilst loaded with artillery shells. She lies in 55m of water. Paul and Eddie are using 22/24 Trimix and decompression gasses of 40 and 80% they will dive first with a maximum duration approaching 120 minutes. The rest will, due to mixed experience levels dive as four in two buddy pairs using air and 50% with a proportionally conservative profile. Our planned bottom time is 20 minutes, maximum dive time 90 minutes. We run through the scenarios and contingencies, it’s probably imagination but the deck seemed quieter after the briefing. Paul and Eddie get safely away and we kit up. Tim and Steve are waiting at the buoy as Chris and I hit the water, pleased to say my ungainly plunge attained a 5.9 for style from the judges. Well Tim anyway.

Quick OK’s and we slip below the surface. Steve first me last. Viz is great I can see him for the entire long decent. As we approach 50m there is the Medoc. Over 60 years since she sunk. The impact is immediate we are here to see a part small part of history and the grave of 39 sailors frozen in time.

There is always a moment to contemplate the circumstances which brought the ship to it final resting place and this one is no different. Our dive plan provides for an ascent up the shot and Tim has already clipped off and away with Steve in close attendance. Chris and I have an easy time of it following the line. Plenty to see on this infrequently dived site and you just know there are treasures waiting to be found but the plan is the plan and we have run times to watch. Today we are strictly tourists.

Medoc is a big and fairly intact wreck impossible to see let alone explore in a single dive, all too soon we are at the turn point. I signal Tim with my torch but he is ahead of the game already reeling back toward us. We follow the line back to the shot, get organised and begin the slow ascent back to Annes hot drinks. We made deep or Pyle stops at 35 and at 22m where we switched to our 50% decompression gas, my final stop was 25 minutes at 6m by which time I was more than ready to get back to the daylight.

How good was it to discover buddy Chris had another 10 minutes at 3m showing on his computer. I think I could actually smell the Bovril by the time we hit the surface. Back on board and the volume level has gone up several notches. We planned it right and dived it right and while we were doing that saw something few others will be able to witness. I think that just about sums it up for me. The others will have different reasons, whatever they are I think they would agree this dive made a good trip better.

We finished in style.

Thanks guys, thanks Anne and Rod, I had fun.