Friday night and 10 intrepid Robin Hood divers tootled sedately up the A19 to make South Shields in time for last orders. Well, 9 actually because Graham decided he’d rather get up at 4am and arrive saturday in time for ropes off. After a peaceful night in the Atlantis Guest house on Ocean Road we awoke fresh and ready to go. All we needed was a hearty full English breakfast to get us ready for the day. Sadly the breakfast nazis wouldn’t cook sausages until 8am so most of us just made do with bacon and eggs. Except Bob who had patiently waited since 5am and held out for his full English. 8am came and went and it soon became apparent that Bob was not going to be waving his sausage at us any time soon and in the end he too made do with his Bacon and eggs. Poor Bob.
We were boarded and loaded with our usual slick efficiency and soon at sea on Spellbinder, with Allan at the helm and Mark on coffee duty, the sun shining and the sea flat. We decided to aim for the wreck of the S.S Mars which sank in 32m of water in 1939 after being struck by a mine. The wreck was nicely shotted by the boilers and we enjoyed a decent dive amongst the plates and debris. Those mines must have been serious bits of kit because the wreck is well broken up. There was an absence of fish life, but what it lacked in fish it gained in visibility and it made for a pleasant change to be able to find our way back to the shotline without too much difficulty.
As it was only 11am we decided to wait until after dive 2 for lunch and instead had a nice surface interval of tea, coffee, hot chocolate, hobnobs and blue ribband biscuits. Terry slapped on the suntan oil and settled back to off-gas.
Dive 2 was an old favourite, the Pandora. Having dived this several times before it was really nice to actually see it! The propeller is a little more exposed than in the past and you can now clearly see the previously buried blade which has sheared right through. Following the prop shaft back to the boilers we once more found the shot with ease, thanks to Tim’s strobe. Still a lack of fish life, the odd wrasse and lots of squat lobsters darted about the wreckage. The Bow, which stands a little proud of the sea bed, did however have a shoal of bib inside which were a welcome distraction. Again the visibility was probably the best we’ve had on the wreck.
Back on the boat we barely had time to take our kit off before being handed a steaming bowl of sweet and sour chicken and egg fried rice. More tea and we began to head back to port. Allan the skipper suggested somebody jump in on the Eugene Chandris as we passed to check on the state of the viz. Tim volunteered to do the job. The next time the skipper looked he had a boat full of kitted up divers ready to jump in! The quick look turned into a 40 minute dive with Graham reporting he’d seen a lobster bigger than Terry! Pablo was so impressed by all the bullets and ammo that he didn’t want to surface, but surface we did, after a cracking day’s diving.
Saturday evening, and Ocean road transforms into the North East’s answer to the West End. Minus the culture, and with more of it’s share of drunken neds. We opted for a nice meal in an Italian restaurant and a walk along the sea front. If anybody wants any pizza we have a bit left over!
Sunday morning arrived and we finally got to enjoy the full English breakfast which elluded us the previous morning. The poor lady was alone in the kitchen but had Bob’s breakfast ready and waiting for him! With images of Tim’s bedroom parading and stories of seasickness onboard spellbinder Amanda didn’t look particularly hungry. Funny that.
The first dive was a wreck none of us had done before. The H.M.S Elise. The armed fishing trawler sank in 1918 after hitting a mine, or a torpedo. There are conflicting reports of her sinking, but WE all know it was a result of the unfeasibly large boiler she was carrying! For a small trawler, the boiler was enormous! This wreck was covered in life. There were lots of bib and lobsters under every plate. There is a gun somewhere on the sea bed but despite a good search we couldn’t locate it. At a depth of 30m this was a perfect dive for nitrox and everybody agreed that it was a really lovely little wreck.
Dive 2 was my old favourite the Cider Wreck. In the past I have found some lovely pottery on this site and this dive didn’t disappoint. Nestled right under the quite impressive anchor was a beautiful little glazed pot. Tim also spotted a cracking little pot, and about half a tonne of fishing weights, which he dutifully wombled off the sea bed. There was a lot more life on this wreck, particularly the section between the boiler and engine block where a large shoal of bib and a two foot long cod congregated. It was quite a special feeling to hover amongst them and just enjoy the moment. Again the visibility was superb, and the boat was buzzing with excited divers whilst we tucked into our chicken curry.
Dive six of the weekend was another go on the Eugene Chandris, or was it the Oslo fijord? The site is big enough to still find things missed on the first dive and Keith spotted a large shell casing, which on closer inspection proved to be stuffed full of cordite! With all divers back on the boat we packed up our kit, thanked Allan and Mark for a cracking weekend and convened in the bar for a deco beer.
As trips go this one was a bit like the Hokey Cokey. Divers booked on and off with a vengeance, but on the morning of July 21st, (first day of the summer holidays) we boarded glad tidings 7 with 15 divers: members, members of old, and members of the future. Some of us even had full cylinders!
The sea was mirror flat and the sun had the decency to hide behind some light cloud so we didn’t fry in our suits. The first dive was hopper rock, with a depth of 25 m and a water temp of 12-13 degrees. I was glad about this as the sea managed to ingress into my usually sound dry suit. I let my buddy know when it got to my elbow, but continued the dive as the visibility was great and the shoals of herring made for a delightful spectacle. A few seals were out but I must’ve had my repellant on as none paid us much attention. I think they were all playing with Sam and Andy Pepper! Sadly the water level inside my suit eventually made it to my armpit, the 13 degrees didn’t feel so warm then, so up went the smb and I got back on the boat to wring out my under suit and dry off in the sunshine. Hobnobs and jelly babies later (Lee signed his contract to join the club by eating 2 club hobnobs) , we deliberated on the best site for dive 2.
Longstone End was the site for our second dive. A slight drift made for an effortless glide with the rock on the left. Passing a sizeable cod, flat fish, pogge , sea scorpion and Ballan wrasse on the way. The rocks were covered in life and there were several large crabs and lobsters scuttling around. This time the water inside my suit overtopped my armpit and redistributed down to my feet so it wasn’t as long a dive as I would have liked. The cuff dump seemed to be the smoking gun so we did some on board maintenance involving pulling it to pieces and putting it back together again. It seemed to do the trick Back ashore we stopped off for a deco beer in The Ship joined by the Italian contingent from the boat. Abbiamo passato una bella giornata!
A fab surface interval thanks to our skipper Derek Anderson.
I’m always in vogue don’t you know, so on the day that the Queen has been spotted on the FROW (Google it if you’re unfashionable) I am sporting my new Club gear. If you want to look as gorgeous as me (but perhaps less furry) why don’t you get in touch with Phil Barber and get yourself a Club t-shirt or hoodie – in a larger size of course.
You might get woof whistled. Xx
I thought mummy was taking me to Crufts when she said we were off to The Show- I really did. I combed my fluffy feet, put on my best coat and stopped thinking about birdies n bunnies for a while in my excitement. Turns out she meant the Great Northern Dive Show which was probably more exciting really as I got to do a wee and a poo on some lovely green grass called Old Trafford – didn’t look old to me – and I got tickled by storm troopers and met a man in black who sounded like he was using a rebreather all the time. Not many dogs get to do that do they, whereas lots of dogs go to Crufts.
After all that it was the humans turn to get excited as they met up with friends from BarZero (again no crisps or beer so I’m confused by the many uses of the word Bar)….and lots of other divey people including skippers from Lochaline who let me pee in a box of grass on their boat a couple of years ago. I think i first saw dolphins on that trip – on the whole I prefer bunnies to dolphins.
Anyhow – it was a busy hall with lots of stuff to keep us entertained. Mummy came away clutching brochures for yet another holiday whilst daddy bought a compressor and everyone ate pies and coffee from far too many plastic plates n cups (there’s a lot in our oceans you know you naughty humans)….except for mummy who was virtuosly clutching her own travel mug.
So – hope we can all go again next year as it’s great to have such a good divey day out meeting old friends n learning new stuff so close to home. See ya next year Darf xx
(Ps I might have made the bit up about daddy buying the compressor…)
Well what a night – my tail is worn out with wagging and my paws are pulsating after presenting lots of hotly contested and incredibly prestigious awards to members of the Club last night. It was of course Club AGM night and once we had heard from the chair person (“we’re all happy”)(“ish”), the treasurer (“we’re floating”) and the dive safety officer (“no one died”)….it was my (well daddy’s) turn to kick off the award ceremony with a few statistics. Apparently my 50 human diving friends have done 479 dives collectively on Club trips which means they have spent over 374 hours under water whilst I have been patiently waiting, wagging my tail and watching their bubbles. More amazing still, they have dived to a collective depth of 11,099 metres which is even deeper than the Mariana Trench (10,994m) which daddy said would have squashed anyone really diving to that depth with 1086 bars of pressure. I’m confused by this as I thought bars were places where people bought me crisps and sometimes let me drink their beer. Anyhow, after all those breathtaking facts n figures the awards were presented (by me) as follows:
AWARD for the smug b***ard who’s best in all categories – this certificate was presented to TIM SAVILLE for the longest dive, deepest dive, most dives on most trips …blah blah blah. This was based on all the figures from the log sheet – no surprise there really…. Timmy won his own baseball cap back (long story- glad he’s got it back as it was very smelly).
AWARD for the biggest navigation cock up – this certificate was presented to BOB JONES for surfacing on the wrong side of the Farnes and having to be shown the way home by Sammy Seal. Bob won a guide book for the Coast to Coast to ensure he can find his way on land should he ever be beached (can I come walkies with you Bob?).
AWARD for all the gear and no (or every!) idea – this certificate was presented to CHRIS HANDLEY for purchasing the most impressive range of dive equipment in 2017 now that he’s all rebreathered up -and of course we all know that Chris really has more idea than most of us put together (and definitely more than me because I’m a dog). Chris won a multi-tool to add to his kit collection.
AWARD for the best kept drysuit – this certificate was presented to JOHNY RANGELEY for keeping that lovely new drysuit in the wardrobe and rarely putting it in the water. Johny won some trendy moth balls which smell funny to keep with his drysuit.
AWARD for best buddy pair – this certificate was presented to AMANDA AND KEITH for diving in perfect harmony and therefore recording identical depths and times on all the logsheets. They won a pair of dolphins which have salt n pepper in them and then they gave me lots of tickles so I really do think they’re the best.
AWARD for the most hard working Club Member – this certificate was presented to ANDY LAMB for all his hard work in 2017, above and beyond the call of duty. Andy’s put me on the new website and lets me do stuff so I love Andy! Woof woof! Andy won a pen so he can keep doing the minutes and doodling in committee meetings.
AWARD for best trip secretary – this certificate was presented to MARK BUXTON for remembering to do all the important stuff really well instead of just bringing hob nobs and hoping for the best. Mark would have won a packet of hob nobs but as he wasn’t able to come to the AGM I ate the whole lot on the way home in the car – sorry Mark. I feel a bit sick now.
So – that was the end of the better-than-the-Oscars awards and if you think you’d like to win one of my incredibly special and totally silly awards next year then you had better come diving with me. The categories might not be the same, but I’m sure the competition to excel will be fierce!
Woof woof for now x
Well its a wintry day out there all you non-hairy divers – I’m looking forward to getting my paws chilly in the white stuff after work. Mum has bought me a gorgeous new coat which I need to try out in extreme conditions. Its a touch humiliating that she and I are now colour coded, but until I find a way to earn my own pennies I am dependent upon my parents for my outdoor gear. Anyhow, this has reminded me that I need to get them to take me up to Capernwray soon to test out all the kit stored over the chilly months and allow me to cadge some large slices of cake and snuffle people’s sandwiches when they’re not looking. There are a few people putting opportunities for buddies on facebook….so hopefully see you up there very soon….I’m the orange one….and so is she….sigh!
Club Lady xx
Hi, here are am checking out the weather in St Abbs, looks great to me!
Hope you all have a fabulous dive season for 2018.
While you’re here, take a look at the new dive calendar: Download
Lots of woofs
October is a busy season for us. Lots of people come to the Farne Islands to use our underwater rehabilitation services. Humans have very sad dreary lives on land as I understand it and so it is our duty and pleasure to welcome them into our underwater environment to play with them and generally make them feel like their existence has some meaning. We have a special deal with William Shiel in particular to do this work, although he was maybe taking the piss a bit this weekend when he brought 34 divers out on one incredibly crowded boat, but we’ll have a word with him about this at a later date. He may need to supply more fish if he’s going to work us that hard.
The other boat load however were a jolly crew of 18 or 20 – I lost count and they didn’t seem to have a clue themselves – from Robin Hood Dive Club. This lot seemed like a professional outfit although one of them called Jared seemed to prefer having more water in his suit than outside of it. They also had some potential new members with them called Julie, Alexandra and Andy who seemed a friendly bunch, smiling a lot and blowing bubbles all over the place. There was one barking mad chap who apparently never wears a hood – I think Jonathan is his name – he must feel the cold less than we do so maybe he’s half seal. There was also a bloke called Ben who I think may have moved in with one of our sexier seals in the colony here – he seems to be around a lot anyhow – the less said about that the better.
So we did our thing – we dutifully chewed everyone’s fins, particularly the bright coloured ones, as that seems to be what humans like….besides its funny to creep up behind them in stealth mode and then bugger off really quickly before they can take a photo. They’re not that agile in the water so we can run rings round them generally. We put on a good show this weekend though I say it myself – we called in all the reserves and we were everywhere, dancing, twirling and looking cute and doe-eyed. We let people tickle us and we even had a threesome with the blubbery one called Ruth – that was fun as she just kept screaming “I don’t like it!”.
So job done we watched them all get back on board after two great dives – have to say that lift thing they have is definitely something we should look into – it’s hard getting back onto our rocks, particularly when we have a lot of winter blubber – might have a word with William about getting one installed on some of the main islands. Always sad to see them all go – particularly as their season is coming to a close because they can’t hack the cold. Come back next year guys – get Johnny to organise another trip. We’ll miss you until then xx
If I was a student of psychology I would get a job at an escape room immediately. How much fun do those voyeurs have that watch the gamers and type cast everyone so quickly into doers, non-doers, and people who like being locked up and playing with padlocks.
Even though my team was locked in a room with Johnny for an hour it was actually quite good fun to watch intelligent folk solving a myriad of tricky mind-twisters whilst Barry just struggled stacking a few stools to form a pattern.
Obviously having so many bondage experts in our team paid off as we broke free just within the allotted time to find a surprisingly empty hallway meaning we were triumphant. Team Keith emerged flustered and frustrated a few minutes later making transparently pathetic excuses that their room was harder, to cover up for the fact they had failed spectacularly to escape. Team Tim arrived shortly after looking equally forlorn followed by the organisers muttering something about interventions in arguments, whatever that meant.
Released back into the wild of Saturday night Leeds we then somewhat psychologically predictably downed lots of pints, sucked stringy noodles in Trinity Kitchen and some of us danced the night away before risking life n limb in death-defying taxis.
If I was a psychology student I could have gone on this splendid Tick Tock Escape room night out and got a first for my resulting thesis. Thanks Keith for locking us all up and not letting us out.
Dunbar, a magical place in Scotland with castles, big rocks covered in bird poo, Tennent’s lager, a cement factory and a nuclear power station but nowhere to get your cylinders filled!
Friday afternoon and off we go to the land of said ‘bird poo rock’ with more cylinders than you can shake a stick at. Perhaps a few too many for Tim judging by the blowout, oops!
Tyre repairs aside our buddy pairs start arriving at the Pine Marten Pub & Hotel for some well-deserved food & beer. We’ve delicacies such a gourmet burgers, best gammon, rotisserie chicken and of course Bob’s enormous Tupperware box of sandwiches. All that topped off with peanuts and Peroni made for a great night out.
Saturday arrives with the sun shining but a breeze that limits our options somewhat. We plum for the Isle of May and manage a couple of reasonable dives. I think we were meant
to find wreckage and boilers on dive one but Steve & I must have read the map wrong. Never mind, by the time we’re on dive two Steve found an angler fish (which was the highlight for me) and Liz found an octopus. Another highlight was to be found topside, we saw the UK’s new Aircraft Carrier out on her maiden sea trials.
Our skipper Steve Haddow of Shadow Marine took great care of us on his Swiftcat catamaran ‘Mako’ which was a smashing boat. He’d been keeping a close eye on the weather report and come the end of the day we called it for the Sunday, the breeze we’d had was more likely to be a gale by morning.
Back ashore and we unload (in more ways than one), Andy manages to upset the locals by peeing in the car park. “I’ve taken his reg. and phoned the Police” an irate lady informs me. So we dash to the pub to avoid a run-in with the law but chaos ensues and we end up in two different pubs with two groups of divers grumbling about how this came about and whose fault it is (least said the better).
After a quick scrub and polish, we’re out on the town and surprise surprise enjoying food & drink again. This time we’re in Dunbar’s finest Italian restaurant “Umberto’s“. I think we may have been a bit tiddly by the end judging by the tip we gave our waitress Sarah (we didn’t have to pay for her entire gap trip – Tim!).
Sunday as predicted was very breezy so scattered by the winds we separated out with some going straight home, others off to some salmon smokery and the rest for a brisk walk and another visit to Umberto’s.
A smashing weekend away, thanks to all that came.
When Gary, aka Great Uncle Bulgaria – the oldest and wisest of the Wimbledon Wombles and their leader, asked if anybody wanted to help clean the Glanmire wreck of rubbish, we wombles jumped at the chance. Little did we know that temperatures would plunge to below freezing and Angus, the first named storm of the year would be threatening us out in the North Sea. James,aka Tobermory – an engineer, a skilled inventor, and avid diver tooled himself up with a variety of cutting implements and was chomping at the bit to get started on the clean up. He excitedly told us of his vast array of lift bags and clips as we planned our operation in Oblos on Friday night.
Sadly Jake, aka Orinoco – who loves sleep and food, was snowed in and didn’t make the first dive on Saturday so there was plenty of room on deck and we braced the -3 degrees and set out as the sun came up over the cliffs.
Chris, aka Tomsk – an athletic Womble, discovered that ‘slack’ doesn’t always mean slack and reappeared at the surface puffing and panting, with tales of endurance and exhaustion. He must have been delerious because he kept mentioning something about a train.
It turns out that wombling at 32m in the dark with a raging current is quite tiring and shortly every body was back onboard , empty handed and empty tanked.
Dive two was more successful and shortly after descending James sent up a lift bag. Attached was a mere tonne of tangled rope which took four of us to haul on board. This manoeuvre was expertly executed by Douggie, the toughest and most agile 73 year old I know. We were momentarily concerned that James was in fact wrapped up inside but it turned out to be just a couple of gasping fish which we duly rescued.
By 8.30 pm we were all fed and watered and ready for bed, thanks to the early start, and everybody had turned in by 9pm! (Good little wombles).
Uncle Bulgaria was really looking after us and on Sunday morning we were greeted by a radiator festooned with warm, dry, gloves. This was a bonus seeing as it was so cold the mask bucket had frozen solid and we had to salt the deck! Liz , Andy and Chris opted for a dive on Anemone Gullies, and enjoyed 55 mins of exploration, flat fish and lobbies whilst down on the wreck some serious wombling was going on! Tim and James launched several creels to the surface, whilst Bob and Tom sensibly kept their distance. Luckily all wombling bags and divers made it safely back on board and enjoyed hot coffee and an odd biscuit or two to warm through.
Following the fourth and final dive we arrived back in Eyemouth harbour to unload our wombling haul, which was actually quite impressive (see photo) and we celebrated with a ‘healthy portion’ of fish and chips.
Learning points of the weekend:
1. Tides are unpredictable.
2. It’s bloomin’ cold in November in Scotland.
3. Pruning saws are not that effective on rope under water.
4. An 18l cylinder is not such a daft idea.
5. An empty twinset is very bouyant.
Thanks Gary and Zoe for the usual hospitality, and to all the junior wombles for making it a great wreck wombling weekend.
A final trip report : Farnes 22nd October 2016
Last trip of the season and there we were on the steps at Seahouses contemplating the waves INSIDE the harbour. Two divers said feck it and went back home which meant the rest of us had a lovely big empty-ish boat to roll around in. Having tossed and turned around a few islands with Timmy excitedly saying “we can get in there no problem” and the rest of us saying “we can’t get out of there – big problem” we ended up somewhere with a bit of kelp and some randy seals. Never has Mr Seal been so frisky, pressing poor Barry to the seabed by climbing on top of him (it was a relatively small seal) and ferociously biting at hoses, mask and suit. Back on the boat we heard that three divers on another boat had their suits punctured. Whilst most managed a respectable 40 minutes in the murk, Graham made a couple of new friends and spent a very impressive 63 minutes doing god knows what with naughty Mr Seal. His SMB looked like Robinson Crusoe’s trousers by the time they’d finished, but Graham didn’t care – he was in love.
After we’d broken the boat with an alarming bang at lunchtime, we then attempted a second dive despite murmurings of “pub” because we are after all a dive club, not a drinking club. With the boat belching steam and not sounding healthy we then rolled back to the Ship Inn to get shit-faced……and that my friends was the Club season closed.
Thanks as always to the trip secretaries – Tim, Ruth, Liz, Barry and everyone else who did everything that needed to be done – oh and thanks to the King of Delegation – myself – even though I’ve not even written this. This years crown for worst trip sec ever goes to……….
Roll on next year.
3rd dive trip and still the newbie in the club, excited and raring to go, not had much information on the plan or where to stay, everyone else seems to just ‘know’, turns out its not magic, it’s just our illustrious trip sec having the wrong number for me…………………twice!
So after the near heart attack inducing set off time to make an 8am ropes off on Saturday, a quick ring round from Tim secured 3 rooms in the Auckland Arms for the Friday night, unsure why; but Tim felt the need to ring and ask if I wanted a ‘Sub room’ (read closet) in one of the main rooms to save the princely sum of £5, unsurprisingly I declined.
Friday night rolls around and I am very kindly (and comfortably) whisked down the M6 with Mr and Mrs Dive Club in the A-Team Van, making good time thanks to a perfectly executed plan to avoid a major accident on the M56. A few swift jars in the Auckland to wash down the emergency McDonalds and we’re soon all calling it a night.
Saturday morning, cloudy, slight chill but on the whole can’t complain at the weather, trip down to Beaumaris the boats ready and waiting, with Graham and Jared already arrived after what I believe was 2:30am start to drive down that morning, not hanging around everyone’s loaded and ready to go. Odd dive boat, but weirdly endearing, nice and cosy but that can mostly be put down to the 3 huge boxes from the faff brigade and all their paraphernalia.
1st dive is the 32m+ SS Delfina, great dive, my first on it, never really had a clue what I was looking at, but was impressive all the same. Fantastic visibility, even though it feels dark but almost tropical compared to the St Abbs east coast temperature 2 weeks prior.
2nd dive, another first for me, a drift, Steve and I saw lots of life but apparently missed ‘a huge stacked pile of dog fish’ seen by others, was good fun being taken for a ride, no pun intended. Keith and Amanda comfortably won the distance race.
Having finished earlier than expected, a quick beer onsite and dropping cylinders off, most headed to the rooms, I ended up billy no mates drinking (I think that’s the first sign of alcoholism) watching England vs Malta. Table booked for 7pm at Bocca, all arrived in good spirits and had a great meal [from my perspective at least]. Copious amounts of Red wine was consumed by most, which meant I was left in peace with my bottle of white! Must be an age thing!
Day 2, The Cartagena wreck, around 30m, good vis and a pleasure to dive, made it round a couple of times, loads of life, and some huge Pollock. Dive 2, not sure where it was or what you’d even call it, we were told to go South-East, Steve & I didn’t see much except a lone dog fish and some flat fish, still enjoyable, others saw more I believe.
Now backing up an hour or so, sun blaring, spirits high after a great 1st dive, hobnobbed up, heading back inland…………yet another (2 from 3 for me) pod of dolphins! Circled around for a good 20-30minutes, no abundance of acrobatic theatre, certainly in comparison to St Abbs a fortnight before, but 1 particular fella had his weetabix that morning with the highest breach I’ve ever seen, almost seemingly pausing for a photo at his peak. You’d think with some many photographers on board it would be have been caught, but alas, not this time.
Round Up: Fantastic weekend, both top side and under.
Trip Report by Lady, Club Dog
St Abbs 24th & 25th September 2016
with Barry Shaw, Ruth Hair, Chris Handley, Graham Watters, Sheelagh Kay, Stuart Fox, Tim Saville, Liz Saville, Andy J Batley, Bev Batley.
I love it when Auntie Wooof turns up in her big van on a Friday – its means we’re going on an adventure which spices up my very dull life going to work at Mars Petfood factory every day with Daddy. Even though we drive a long way, the journeys not too bad because we stop somewhere where they pass food through the window which is fab. After that we stopped at a pub in Coldingham which said I was welcome in the lounge bar, so welcome that the lovely lovely lady who worked there gave me a whole plate of roast beef. This meant I had to stamp on Auntie Wooof’s face in the middle of the night so she’d let me out because my tummy’s not used to piles of roast beef so late at night you know.
Anyhow – next morning I checked out all my favourite places on the harbour whilst everyone got in their funny suits. I’d been up at the harbour the weekend before launching the lifeboat and being a V.I.D. but not drinking prosecco as I’m a dog and it tickles my nose, so I have lots of favourite places to go and sniff and everyone knows me. Sniffing done, I went back to bed for a snooze whilst Auntie Wooof and Daddy and their friends went off on the boat and did two dives near the lighthouse and at West Hurker. If they’d walked on the cliff top instead they’d have seen lots of bunnies, but they seemed happy that they’d seen loads of lobbies and stuff – great viz as well, whatever that means. They were raving about seeing a massive pod of dolphins which they apparently followed up the coast – a bit like me chasing bunnies I suppose. The dolphins were playing and jumping out of the water – bunnies don’t do this. I prefer bunnies. Dolphins don’t have fur or legs apparently – they sound very strange and really not at all like bunnies.
Lunchtime was good as Euan showed us all around the lifeboat station and I got to give the boat a good sniff close up – it’s very big and orange and smells salty. Everyone seemed quite emotional about it and Euan seemed very proud of everything that has happened to get the boat there. I felt very V.I.D. again as lots of people had taken photos of me on launch day with my special Lifeboat t-Shirt on.
That evening was the best night out ever. The very kind lady at the pub had set us up in a special room so I could sit at the head of the table with my own water bowl and another plate of roast beef. I also had lamb shank, chips and a few veg. It was lovely. Bit disappointed I got no beer. Everyone else seemed to have lots of beer. We had a jolly evening with our new friends Arf and Joren from Holland – no idea if that’s how you spell their names but I’m a dog so I can get away with it.
Next day was another lovely day and everyone headed out early to dive Black Carrs which looked a bit lumpy and wavy to me, but was apparently OK underneath – what do I know – I can’t even swim well. Then it was lunchtime and I tried to train Eddie, the on-site Labrador, how to climb on the table and eat people’s sandwiches whilst looking cute, but he just carried his bowl around in his mouth and looked smugly superior. I like him, but he needs to be naughtier – he’ll get more treats that way. Next dive was Bander Reef along the coast near Fast Castle. Auntie Wooof raved about being in a beautiful place and not wanting to come up, she’s so over emotional sometimes.
And that was it – back on the road again with Daddy snoring and Auntie Wooof doing ALL the driving as usual. I had a fantastic weekend. St Abbs is a very special place and the people there are all lovely – I hope we go back soon. I am very lucky to be Club Dog.
The vans were all packed carefully with several tonnes of kit and baggage and cool bags and beers and we set off on yet another Manx adventure. The steampacket company duly delivered us all safely to Douglas and we arrived at Mike keggan’s place in Port St Mary by teatime. We unpacked the above mentioned tonnage of kit and organised it into our allocated boat boxes ready for the morning. Then it was off for a curry dinner and back to the house for a restful night’s sleep. Or at least that was the plan…only we hadn’t banked on Jonathan’s impressive Massey Ferguson impersonation! I read recently that if somebody tells you you snore they have seriously thought about killing you but decided to let you live, so it’s testament to Jonathan’s personality that he survived the week!
The forecast for the next few days was for increasing winds so we opted to make the most of a calm day and do three dives. The first of which was the Burroo, a scenic wall dive festooned with luminous Jewel anemones and infested with very curious cuckoo wrasse, one of which actually attacked my arm! A fleeting glimpse of a seal and decent enough visibility had nicely whetted our appetites. Dive two was the infamous SS Clan Macmaster. This was a huge cargo ship which ran aground on Thousla Rock in the Sound of Calf in 1923. She was 420ft long but is now well broken up and flattened and covered in red seaweed. The boilers and prop shaft are still clearly visible and a resident seal likes to come to say hi to divers. After a pleasant dive on the wreckage we ‘jumped’ into the impressive currents of the sound and dived the drift with excellent viz making it easy to remain together. The wrasse and shoals of saith were going mad in the flow and at one point I was totally enveloped in fish! Time to surface and a quick cuppa and piece of ginger cake before divesugarloaf caves are an atmospheric and impressive site. The first cave is called the cave of birds and is a dead end but has a resident seal. The second cave is called Fairy Hall and is open to the surface so has shafts of light within. All in all a cracking day.
The first night’s cooking team did us proud with copious quantities of spicy meatballs followed by cheese cake and vienetta ice cream. Barry was issued a cheese cake challenge to raise money for charity but after much stomach rubbing and sweating he admitted defeat and the cheesecake survived another night.
The promised winds arrived over night, both from Barry’s over pressured gut and the weather gods. It was not looking overly likely we’d dive at all so we were happy to drop in on a sheltered bay known as Garden bay. Now re-named lost torch bay due to Tim losing his lovely new back up torch. We did get to see a small basking shark though which in the choppy sea was a good spot by young Tom. Craggy jeggy or eggy weggy or whatever the next dive was called was another sheltered bay with large boulders and plenty of life. Andy C ‘s pink mask was a great attraction for the local gangs of wrasse and we spotted congers and lobsters along the way. Andy had obviously been inducted into the gang as he turned to a life of crime, stealing in broad daylight the valued cargo of Mr Kiplings Bakewell slices and then forcing other members of the team to eat the evidence! Shocking conduct and not expected from a respected ex fire officer , he’s lucky to escape a birching!
Day three was blustery again but our intrepid group braved the large and mountainous sea with courage and bravado. Well some of us cried a bit and pleaded to go home, but it all ended well 🙂 We dropped into another sheltered bay called Gibdale bay and spent 10 minutes wading through kelp, which in 8m in a twin set stopped being fun almost immediately. We were about to give in and abort the dive when the kelp cleared and a little opening appeared with a gravelly bottom. Then the seals came! Lovely, playful little fellas which kissed and shook paws as we spent the next 40 minutes being chased around the same rocky swim through.
Dive two was, yep you’ve guessed it, another sheltered bay. We started at a pinacle then swam along with not a lot to look at apart from some sizeable pollock. The weather was taking its toll on our options but at least we got in somewhere.
Our final day was almost blown out completely and with the skipper sucking air through his teeth and shaking his head we delayed a final decision on diving for a couple of hours and went to the calf view point cafe for some cake. Having decided it was diveable we settled on the wreck of the Citrine for our last dive. In 15 m of water it’s nice and light and the boilers still stand proud. There were congers and lobbies and the usual subjects. Keith gave himself a hernia trying to lift a lump of some non- ferrous metal and we all had a good long poke around the wreck.
The trip home was brightened up by some nice customs officers arresting Ruth and team at the ferry port for smuggling dangerous air. Lucky they didn’t spot all the knives eh?
All in all it was another successful trip and whilst we had not had the best of the weather and had been limited in sites, it at least gives us a reason to return. Sorry Mike , we WILL be back !
In a bid to get the best Trip Sec Award I pulled out all the stops:
- Facebook event – Check
- Text messages – Check
- E-mail – Check
- A full guide to the arrangements, directions, parking, food etc – Check
- (But more on this later.)
Finally the day arrives, it’s Saturday morning and we’re on route to the North East. It’s a beautiful day (sun shining and very little breeze) and even the traffic is kind to us.
Car by car we arrive at the Royal Quays Marina and find our grassy knoll of a car park, all that is but one! The clock’s ticking, everyone’s on the boat and yet we’re still a man down. Finally John arrives, I think he was a bit stressed given a friendly fisherman warned him that his car windows had been left open, his response – “F**k Off!” :-).
“What kept you” we ask, “I got lost” he says, “bloody sat nav kept taking me to a dead end”. So – back to my event planning, “Didn’t you see the Facebook event? The guided directions? The annotated satellite photo of where to go and park?”, “No – What’s all that?” – I GIVE UP!!!
Finally we’re off and after a short sail, dive one is on the Cider Wreck. It’s flat calm and still the sun is shining. Tim’s brought along a new toy (his pride and joy), a two hundred odd pound strobe for the shot line.
In he goes to clip it on and keep us well navigated whilst the rest of us faf and finally get in the water. It’s a pleasant dive with reasonable vis for this part of the world but all too soon our damned computers are telling us to get topside. We’ve all manage well, Liz found some “spidge” (a ginger ale bottle) and some with the help of the strobe came up the shot (that can’t be said of me, Graham and Jared).
All onboard and it’s time to pull up the shot, heave-ho up she comes but what’s this? No strobe! “What the ****? * 5” Tim says and before you can say surface interval he and Keith are making bubbles again. What’s a bit of deco between a man and his strobe?
In no time at all (or so it seems to those of us with tea-coffee and hobnobs) a victorious pair surface with a strobe flashing almost as brightly as Tim’s smile.
Second dive of the day (or third for some) is on the Pandora, another smashing dive with ok vis, boilers, prop shaft and a partial prop. Again the three wise men can’t find the shot but hey ho DSMB practice is always useful 😉 . We’re not the only ones to surface under an SMB, Tim & Liz were doing so well clearing deco until some overly helpful diver starts pulling them up followed by Allan piloting the boat over the top of them. Can’t remember Liz using language like that before, she must have learned it from the kids at school.
Unfortunately at this point we’ve a diver worse for wear, Richard’s got a banging headache and in his own words admits to being a “woosy diver”.
Wow we’re really steaming on with this diving malarkey, it’s only just lunchtime and true to form our skipper Allan whips up a hot lunch of Chicken Tikka Masala to warm our cockles. It’s at this point that the Batley’s own up to having had curry the night before, “you do know we’re having curry tonight?” I ask. (Put the loo roll in the fridge).
We forgo the offer of a third dive in favour of a pint on harbour side in the Earl of Zetland followed by a snooze for some and cylinder filling for others. (By the way, the sun is still shining).
Cylinders filled, power naps done and glad rags on we’re “oot on the toon”, not quite but checking out Tynemouth for curry & beer. A great night out was had by all but the bravado may have gone a little too far for me & Keith as we foolishly take the chilli challenge, “waiter, more beer please”.
Day two arrives and after a mammoth Brewers Fayre breakfast, lots of water, headache tables and the odd case of IBS, we’re off diving again. Well, some of us at least, John & Richard bail out and poor Liz has the ‘flu aches’ and hasn’t the strength to lift her toothbrush. “Time to push off guys?”, hang on, were are the Batley’s off to? Apparently Bev’s full face mask is more useful on the boat than left in the hotel bathroom.
Dive one is a wreck called the Illius, a large amount of wreckage spread out over a big area but I can’t say that I took a lot of it in given that I had lost a weight pouch and spent half the dive looking for rocks to fill my pockets. Tim must have eyes like a hawk and found some fishing lead to help keep me down. Crisis averted we tentatively surface with some deep stops for good measure. Back on board it’s like a geology field trip.
Yet again Tim feels the need to go on a salvage mission (that man likes his deco). Not so lucky this time though, the unclipper fish has made off with my pouch an about 5kg of lead.
Dive two is a large dredger just of the coast of Sunderland. I bail out and keep Liz company (not that she needed any with her new camera to play with). All surface safely and today we’re treated with Chicken in White Wine Sauce and rice for lunch, I could get used to this hot lunch arrangement.
We kindly decline Allan’s offer of a third dive and that’s it, time to pack up and go home but not before a quick debrief in the Zetland.
All in all a great weekend, thanks to Allan and all who came and made it such a good one.
Continuing our recent spate of Club non-diving-but-a-lot-of-drinking weekends, an intrepid lot set off from the four corners of West Yorkshire to gather in the big smoke and wage war against one another with balls and skittles. After beers one, two, three and four in Wither-away-spoons, that well known quality hostelry in the train station, we managed to arrive vaguely on time(ish) at the bowling alley.
Two lanes were filled with slightly wobbly bowlers, whilst latecomers to the competition (you know who you are Keith and Amanda) had to just sit and cheer from the sidelines. Some folk got strikes which basically means they get less goes which is a bit rubbish, whilst others were too skittle-conscious to even knock any down because that’s a shocking act of aggression to skittles everywhere if you think about it. Somebody won on each lane, possibly Tim on both lanes in fact, and beers five, six and maybe even seven were consumed.
We then wobbled off to arrive nowhere near on time at the buffet place where people ate lots of fairly repulsive food and drank some fairly flat ale. Things got quite fuzzy by this stage, but I think most people had a good time….well most except one. Hopefully everyone got home safe, but as no one has been seen or heard of since, its difficult to tell.
Thanks to me (Johnny) as usual for organizing it all….you’re welcome
St Abbs residents gripped their fishing nets in fear as 40 Pirates hit the sleepy diving village, parked up their longboats and campervans and drank Grog ’til it ran out of their noses. The 80% chance of rain never materialised but the biting Easterly wind certainly did. It has been noted that at least one rufty tufty Pirate had a heated vest on under his blouson.
Saturday diving was excellent if a little swelly, but under the water we were treated to the excellent visability which St Abbs has been lucky to enjoy for a couple of months now. Octopus and Wolfish were evident as were shoals of young Pollock. Slightly on the chilly side for some, it proved to be an excellent day diving.
Sunday morning had it’s casualties, some alcohol induced and others just didn’t like the look of the weather. Luckily for those who hung around for a couple of hours, the weather cleared up, the sun came out and another couple of dives were to be had. Black Carrs boated at least 20 metres visibility and if it wasn’t for the 10 degrees C water temp, then we could have easily been in the Caribbean (honestly).