Weymouth Training Trip September 2004

(by Bob Puttock)

A perspective by novices Bob & Angela Puttock

Friday
We were looking forward to our first sea dive. Tim had said “If you don’t leave before three o’clock, you might as well wait until after seven”. So we heeded the voice of experience, took a half-day’s holiday and, having packed the mandatory towels and sleeping-bags, headed for the south coast.
The weather was fine and the roads were clear of heavy traffic when we left home just after 2 pm, so we arrived at the caravan park late afternoon, with plenty of time to look around before going to The Smugglers Inn for our evening meal.

The first surprise was the accommodation. Tim had always referred to ‘luxury caravans with an expression on his face that led us to expect rust buckets; whereas the units were in fact extremely well equipped. After unpacking, making tea, and chatting to Lisa and Anne with whom we shared the caravan, we all strolled down to ‘The Smugglers’. This pub is in an excellent position no matter what the weather, :nestling in a hollow with a stream running past, and with its car park overlooking Weymouth harbour. It also keeps a good range of beers at the bar, and does meals of excellent value. It was interesting to be able to chat to people we had seen either dashing away from the hold, or togged up in their diving gear by the Robinson Pool, and to be able to put names to faces. Later on in the evening we were joined by our niece Bronwen and her fiancé Rob, both of whom we had not seen for over a year.

Pim, who was acting as dive marshall as part of his Dive Leader’s course (with Pascale as assistant dive marshall for the same reason) interrupted the merriment to give us a serious briefing. We were left in no doubt about requisite priorities : Be on time, be ready, and be efficient (for on a crowded boat efficiency is essential). Meet at Tango, nine o’clock sharp. Then Tim, who together with Clare had helped with the planning, said that if we were up early enough we could have breakfast at the Oasis café.

Saturday
After a good night’s sleep we were up early and it was down to business. So we followed the other cars to the café, arrived at 0730 hrs sharp as per the schedule, only to find it closed ! And so we went straight to the quayside, where the good ship Tango awaited us. Regarding our breakfast, we were saved by a Spar shop, a few yards away from the quayside, which sold rather tasty bacon and tomato baguettes.
Once on board the Tango we were given another pep talk : this time from Phil, the boat’s captain and owner, who again emphasised efficiency. He also explained the curious idiosyncrasies of the toilet, and – an unrelated point - made it clear that he did not want to find sea water in the hold. This desire was not entirely satisfied since at the end of the dive our water-filled boots, having been carefully placed out of harm’s way (or so we thought), were inexplicably tipped over.

The weather was disappointingly poor as we set off from the quayside. It was dull and drizzly, and Phil’s weather communications equipment informed us of a force 6 gale blowing out to sea. The poor weather necessitated relocation of the dive site to the harbour, which was reached in dramatic fashion, with Tango giving us a hard ride on the choppy surface, undulating on the heavy swell. Even more dramatic was the progress of the RIB, which regularly leapt into the air as it shot across the bay with Graham at the helm, taking Ann, Allen, Rosie, Clare, and John to the first dive location.
My buddy-cum-instructor for the first dive was Steve Allen, and Angela’s was Tim Stephen. After the BAR checks Steve gave me an explanation of his various diving accessories which were a fascinating insight into what the experienced diver might need. I knew Steve meant business when he uttered the words ‘OK. Let’s go diving’.

Within minutes (it seemed) the pairs of divers were all entering the sea in quick-fire succession, reminiscent of parachutists exiting their aircraft. Unfortunately, although entering the water was successful, the first dive did not go well for me. On descending to 9 metres my new mask instantly fogged up, as it had not been given the toothpaste treatment, and worse still my weight belt began to slip down. Unaware that Steve was actually standing on the target wreck, and being unable to see his signals, I reluctantly resorted to the thumbs-up signal to ascend, and the dive was aborted. Looking on the bright side : the water-entry was satisfactory, the action taken was not unreasonable in the circumstances, the correct signal was given, and the depth was a new personal best !

After a quick bite of lunch on the Tango we attempted a second dive in the afternoon. This dive went much better. I had fixed my mask with the help of Dominic’s magic fluid, and we descended via shot-line to the Spaniard wreck, whose nearest material was at about 10 metres depth. Although the water was murky, the visibility was sufficient to make out the wreck’s outline, and to enable us to feel around and ‘crawl’ over the parts that loomed up as we swam along. After about ten minutes of exploring the outline of the wreck and spotting the odd silvery fish, we ascended via the shot-line and were quickly picked up by Tango.
Once everyone was back on board we sped back to the quayside in Weymouth. The Tango rode the rough seas very well ; surprisingly, no-one suffered from sea sickness, a situation which I doubt would have prevailed had we had been out in the rough weather for much longer.

On returning to the caravan site we had to sort out our wet-suits. This was quite a problem as when hung up inside the caravan, pools of water appeared everywhere, whilst hanging them outside in the rain would have made them even wetter. We eventually solved this dilemma by letting them drip onto polythene bags.
The meal on Saturday night was thoroughly enjoyed by everyone, and the local beer was exceptionally good. During the meal Pascale asked me if I would like to go on the RIB for the third dive. Naturally, I accepted this kind offer ; I was delighted to be included so soon, especially after the morning’s antics, and was quite excited by the prospect.

Sunday
On Sunday morning we all hoped the weather would be calmer and the water a little less murky. However it was not to be. There was still a force 6 gale in the Channel, and the RIB set off ahead of Tango in fairly high seas with new team comprising Graham, Simon, Tim, Dominic, Andy, and myself. The ride out to the dive site lived up to my expectation : a white-knuckle ride that was so bumpy that at one point I was thrust into the space between the side of the RIB and the equipment rack so hard that I could hardly extricate myself. I learnt from this experience and stood on the way back.

Simon was my buddy on my first RIB dive. Everyone had hoped that the water would be clearer but when we descended using the shot line again, the visibility under water was even more limited than it had been on Saturday, and there was no possibility of looking over the wreck in any detail. Creeping down the shot line we descended to a new record of 12 metres. This time my weight belt was fine, but my suit was slightly under-inflated and I had to work hard to maintain constant depth. The solution seems obvious in retrospect, but my thinking was about as clear as the murky waters we were immersed in. Hence the air was used up too fast and after about fifteen minutes we returned to the surface. As an indication of the atrocious visibility, Simon said that he lost sight of me twice yet we were never more than half a yard apart. My entry onto the RIB was trouble-free. Once aboard we had to wait for Tim and Dominic to return from their dive. We were just starting to get concerned when they reappeared from the darkness and were picked up safely.

Meanwhile on the boat Angela and the others were tying everything down and trying to make sure there was nothing that could come loose on their way to the harbour. They watched as the RIB set off for the quayside, skimming across the water, every now and then disappearing completely behind a huge wave. Angela had managed a short swim along a very faint outline before returning to the surface.
We were all back in Weymouth by midday, and after we had sorted out the air cylinders and loaded the RIB back onto the trailer, we were free to go. Angela and I decided to go back to the Smuggler’s Inn, so that we could eat our lunch in the car park, watching the sea whilst drinking a pint of their delicious beer. This made an extremely pleasant end to a most enjoyable weekend, despite the fact that our dives were only partially successful. Thanks largely to the weather conditions and the poor visibility under water. I persuaded the publican to give me a glass with ‘Badger, Land of Hops and Glory’ on it, in exchange for a modest donation to charity, and it now has a proud place in our glasses cabinet as a memento of our first sea dive with the club - a very memorable weekend. Our thanks to all who made it possible.