Work in progress....more coming soon...  

There was hardly a cloud in the sky. It was slack water, it was one of those days when the conditions didn’t get any better for diving. It was for that reason Richard and Rachel found themselves on their trusty dive boat again. This time they had brought friends, Steve and Tom.  

Richard had known and respected the pair of them for years, when he first learnt to dive they had both helped out with his training and taken him on those all so important quarry dives that gave him the experience to handle the dive ahead of him.

For this dive, Steve and Tom wore twin diving cylinders, this would give them double the usual time of single cylinder dives, however at the cost of increased decompression time and the risks associated with this type of dive.

Richard and Rachel sat on the side of the dive boat and watched them don their kit and perform their pre-dive checks. Signalling to each other that it was time, they both dropped off opposite sides of the dive boat and slowly disappeared into the green hue of the depths below.

The plan was for Richard and Rachel to wait twenty minutes, this would allow the other divers to find the bottom and if necessary relocate the small dive boat anchor to help aid its recovery when the dive was over. 

Five minutes prior to their descent, they started to put their gear on. Slowly and methodically. Everything had to be checked and rechecked, they could not risk any problems. At any depth, a seemingly minor complication would be compounded ten times. Signalling the skipper that they were ready, they too dropped off the side of the boat. They drifted with the tide for a moment, meeting at the stern of the boat. Richard looked at Rachel and with an almost unnoticeable nod and a wink of the eye, it was time to descent into the murky depths below.

As they descended down the anchor line, it got dark very quickly, almost simultaneously they cracked the light stick that each had already attached to their buoyancy jacket. It didn’t make it any easier to see, but would help identify each other in the dense foggy water. 

The dark was the problem with diving in the mouth of a river estuary. The river water flowing from upstream was full of river bed silt which slowly drifted downstream and built up and covered the entire sea bed and anything that was on it. It did have its advantage too, it had had the sun on it all of its journey and the top few metres were usually warm.

At about ten metres they passed the thermoclyne, the invisible barrier between the fresh water from upstream and the salt water from the sea at the mouth of the estuary. From this point on it would be noticeably colder, they had both known about this prior to the dive and made sure that they had suitable thermal protection on under their dive suits.

Within five minutes, they were close to the seabed, they systematically checked their gauges. The depth was almost thirty metres and they had about 210 bar each left in their cylinders. Giving each other the ok signal, they followed the remaining section of the anchor line into the gloom. 

Within moments, it became very dark. Although there was little light at this depth, the wreck of the Greenock cast a deep shadow on the seabed. They had finally reached their prize.  

The Greenock had lain their since 1902, when she sank after a collision with another steamer. Collisions like this were a common occurrence at the turn of the century. She was built as a bucket dredger to keep the port of Greenock clear. Her sole purpose had been to fight the constant surge of silt deposited from upstream. 

They finally reached the anchor, they could tell it had been moved from the furrow that had been left from where it had landed to where either Steve or Tom had dragged it. It now lay a metre or so off the port bow of the wreck. Systematically placed for ease of recovery once the dive was over.  

Gently adding a touch of air into their drysuits they slowly ascended on to the deck of the wreck. After laying there for just over a hundred years she had survived reasonably well.    

 

Like I said, work in progress, more soon..........

 

On a scuba diving trip to the Outer Farne Islands, Richard’s intention was to dive on the shipwreck Chris Christiansen, sunk on the 16th February 1915.

After arrival on the site, the sea conditions were not good. It was decided to cancel the dive. The skipper turned his boat around and headed back towards the Inner Farnes, he was determined to salvage something from his so far wasted trip. 

After finding a likely spot in a sheltered bay, Richard and his dive buddy Phil kitted up. After doing the required safety checks on each others diving gear they both gave the Ok signal. They then positioned themselves on the side of the boat and dropped backwards into the sea.

They descended the 10 meters down to the seabed and spotted a gap in the kelp. They passed through the gap and were then swimming through a narrow undersea crevasse. Richard felt a tug on his foot, but the crevasse was too narrow to turn and look. At this point his dive partner Phil was totally unaware of what was going on as he was in front. They both carried on a bit further, they could see the opening of the crevasse now. Another tug on Richard’s foot, he was feeling very nervous now. Visions of the 1970’s film Jaws started to come to mind, but logical reasoning told him that it was too cold for man-eating sharks, it was February after all and the water was a chilly 5°C.

As they cleared the exit of the crevasse, Richard was determined to face whatever has scared him. He turned around to have a look, and there was nothing there. Now he was feeling confused, did he imagine it? He turned to look at my buddy, and he could see that he was laughing inside his diving gear. He pointed behind Richard, another look – still nothing there. Richard was feeling both anxious and frustrated now. 

After a couple of long minutes, Richard turned again and came face to face with a 6 foot Grey Seal, it almost jumped as far as he did. As he jumped it opened its mouth and clamped its jaws around his left thigh. It instantly let go and swam off like a torpedo – never to be seen again. 

Richard then started to get a very cold left leg. When the seal bit, it had punctured his brand new £500 dry-suit. Freezing cold winter water was now filling the area around his leg through the two neat round holes that had appeared. It was at that point that he decided it was time to finish the dive. He signalled to Phil that there was a problem and that he needed to return to the surface immediately. Phil nodded and they started preparing for their ascent. Phil deployed his surface marker buoy, this would signal the skipper that the divers were returning. He could then bring the boat in to meet the surfacing divers.

Exiting the water had its own problem, Richard’s dry-suit was so full of water it was impossible to climb the ladder back onto the boat. Richard held the ladder whilst Phil exited the water. It took both the full efforts of Phil and the skipper to pull Richard from the water. The three of them ending up laying on the floor of the boat soaking wet. Richard removed all of his diving gear except his suit. The skipper helped Richard unzip his suit, again the skipper got soaking wet as water burst out of the zip area. 

After returning to dry land and laughing off the incident, Richard removed his thermal under-suit to find his entire upper leg was one entire purple bruise. Fortunately there were no other injuries other than his pride. 

His diving suit took a couple of hours to repair, the bruise took three and a half weeks and the constant reminder of the incident by Phil still goes on to this day.

 

Richard sat anxiously on the edge of the dive boat. This was the first time he had dived this wreck, he had been over the plan several times in his head already this morning. Of all the wrecks he had dived to date, this was the one that made him nervous. He had done as much research as possible on this wreck, and although it was dived regularly several people failed to return from their quest to recover some of its fabled cargo.

The wreck SS Wallacia was located 34m down in the mouth of the Clyde estuary, she had sat there since the 29th of September 1895. Only fairly recently discovered in 1977, she achieved local fame as the Whiskey ship. Although not classed as a deep wreck, she certainly was a dangerous one. As she sat on the seabed at the mouth of the Clyde Estuary, she was at the mercy of both the tidal flow as well as the constant movement of the silt that drifted down the bed of the estuary from upstream. To make things worse the steady flow of divers each year had to contend with waiting for the perfect tide and timing it with the regular passing of the Wemyss Bay to Rothesay ferry.

With all this in mind it was only natural to be feeling anxious, there were many things that could go wrong and the lure of a hundred year old bottle of Whiskey was a strong one.

Right on queue the ferry cruised passed, it was time to put away the nervous feelings and doubts. The skipper moved the dive boat into position above the wreck, then deployed the anchor.  Richard watched as the first pair of divers entered the water and followed the anchor line down to the mid section of the wreck. The next 15 minutes would drag by whilst he waited for his entry to the water, the hot September sun beat down on the deck of the small dive boat. He felt like he was being cooked alive inside the dry suit that would soon protect his body from the chill of the water below.

Richard's dive buddy Rachel, put her hand on his shoulder and said "Its time". Richard looked forlornly at the water. He sat on the edge of the dive boat and strapped on his weight belt, and then slipped his arms through the jacket of his diving gear. After strapping his fins on and adjusting his dive mask he sat there for a moment and took an number of deep breaths. Glancing over at Rachel on the other side of the boat, she gave him the nod that signified she was ready. Together they pulled their masks over their eyes, adjusted their dive hoods and placed their regulators into their mouths. For the next 40 minutes, their diving cylinders on their backs held the air that would sustain them.

One final nod and they positioned themselves with their back to the water. Placing a hand over his mask and holding his mouthpiece Richard leaned backwards and let go of his grip. Moments later he was feeling the chill of the waters in the Clyde Estuary.

Half swimming, half drifting towards to the stern of the dive boat, Richard met up with Rachel near to the anchor line. Removing his regulator briefly, he asked if she was ready. Replying confidently that she was ready. Together they started their decent to the shipwreck below.

The green hue engulfed them as they descended down the line. The cool waters soothing the sweltering feeling they felt above the water moments ago. They stopped at 10 meters to check that both they and their equipment was ok. This was the point of no return, if there was any doubt this was the time to abandon the dive and return to the safety of the surface. Although both felt anxious, the thrill of the dive ahead drove them on.

The deeper they sank the colder and darker it got, until finally they landed on a soft and silty floor. In almost pitch black they sat there for a few seconds whilst they acclimatised. They both reached for diving torches, after fumbling with the switch Richard's torch burst into life sending a beam of light upwards. Most of it reflected back towards them helping little in the gloom that surrounded them. Casting his beam around in a slow circle, it caught something dark in the gloom. Following the beam upwards they both cast their gaze over the ghostly stern of the SS Wallacia.

Both divers instinctively glanced at each other. If either was feeling unsure about the dive ahead, now was the time to return to the surface. Decompression would not be necessary as they hadn't been in the water long enough. They nodded at each other and both raised a hand and formed an OK signal. Together they swam towards and up to the deck level of the wreck. They knew they would have to be careful and not put their weight on the deck as after the hundred or so years she had lain there it would be brittle in places and could collapse under them.

The skipper had done them proud, the hatchway they were looking for was located at the stern of the wreck, just in front of where they descended. This saved them valuable minutes as they didn't need to look for it. Richard opened a pocket on the side of his buoyancy jacket and removed a reel of nylon line. This would be his lifeline whilst in the bowels of the wreck. He passed the reel to Rachel, she manoeuvred herself near to the hatch and started looking for a suitable anchor point for the line. Spotting a ladder just inside the hatchway, she reached down and tested the strength of the top rung. Satisfied it was strong enough she attached the line securely.

Rachel motioned to Richard that the line was secured and all was ready. Richard signalled that he was ok and was ready to descend. Positioning himself feet first over the hatch, Richard prepared himself for the entry into the dark corridor below. Taking hold of the reel, he then released some of the air from his drysuit and let himself sink slowly down into the shaft. Reaching the bottom, he moved back slightly to allow room for Rachel to enter.

Richard stared up the narrow dark corridor that lay in front of him. He estimated that it should have been about 7 feet tall and 3 feet wide. Unfortunately, it was just under half full of silt and the narrow corridor was going to be difficult to traverse. Looking back at Rachel, he could see that she was unsure about going any further. Conversation under water between the divers was impossible, but after diving several times together, they had developed a deep understanding. Reading the concerns in Rachel's eyes, he looked for the acknowledgment he needed to press on alone. She motioned that she would wait at the foot of the ladder.

Richard turned to face the narrow corridor and adjusted his buoyancy so that he hovered above the silt layer. The silt was going to be disturbed by his passage up the corridor, but he needed it to be minimised. It was already dark but no matter how good his torch was, he knew that if the silt was disturbed it would mean a complete lack of visibility.

Half finning, half crawling along the wall of the passageway, Richard released more and more of the line from the reel. Finally reaching the doorway he was looking for, he glanced back and to his dismay all he could see was a green fog where the silt had been disturbed. Swallowing hard and fighting the feeling of panic that wanted to well up inside him, he willed himself on. "5 more minutes and you'll be back with Rachel" he told himself. Pulling himself around the doorway he entered the cargo hold. It was as dark and as quiet as anything he had ever experienced and he felt very uneasy. Scanning around he looked for an area that he thought other divers might not have tried. He felt drawn to a spot about 9 feet way and carefully made his way over to it.

Plucking the courage up, he thrust his hand down into the silt that lay below him and slowly turned his hand, hoping to feel an object. Nothing. Pulling his arm out he tried again a bit further away. This time his hand felt something hard and cylindrical shaped. Taking a firm grip he pulled it out. Using his other hand he examined his prize, An elated feeling spread thoughout his body, the object was definitely a bottle of some sorts.

Richard's feeling of elation soon left him, he had a feeling that something was wrong. Glancing around him, he could see nothing. The silt in the cargo hold had been disturbed by his movements and a heavy green fog now surrounded him. What made thing worse was that he had somehow lost his grip on the reel that would lead him back out into the relative safety of the outside of the wreck. The reel was the difference between life and death in this environment

Slowly feeling the area underneath him, Richard failed to find his lifeline. Fighting the rising feelings of panic he had to find his way back, Rachel depended on him to get back to the surface safely. Slowly he added some air to his drysuit, hoping that if he raised himself slightly he could clear the disturbed silt layer and find a way out.  Casting his torch beam around he could just about make out a foggy path, clear areas on each side. Gently he followed the foggy trail towards the side of the cargo hold. Finding the wall, he decended into the gloom. Following the wall in front of him down, he felt to find the doorway back into the corridor. Finally gripping the frame he hauled himself through. Casting a glance left and rightr, he was unsure of which way the exit lay. Then the torch beam caught something white in the gloom. Reaching out for it, Richard had found his lifeline! Holding that line gave him hope, carefully he followed it back towards the ladder that led him in.

Catching a glimpse of Rachel's torch beam, he knew the worst was over. He knew that he should never have gone it alone but the lure of his prize had made him forget what was important. Finally reaching his dive buddy the feeling of relief washed over him and a tear escaped from his eye.

Rachel looked concerned, she had been on the verge of following the line towards Richard. She had felt that something was wrong as the line had stopped moving for a couple of minutes and she was worried. Had she followed the line, it would have moved and Richard may never have found it again.

Anxiously, Richard signalled he wanted to go up and return to the diveboat. Rachel didn't argue, she would be glad to get back to the surface and into the fresh air. They separated for a few seconds again as the ascended the ladder. Meeting on the deck above the hatch, Rachel attached her surface marker buoy to the reel and sent it  shooting up to the surface. It would inform the skipper that divers were returning.

Following the line up to the surface would take time. They both used wrist mounted diving computers to control their ascent. Ascending further the green hue of the water lightened, it was good for raising thier spirits, returning from a dive was always a good feeling. A few minutes later they reached 9 metres and had to wait there for several minutes  as the computers had registerd this as their first of two required decompression stops. Completing their stop they continued on to 6 metres for their final one of this dive.

Finally reaching the surface, they appeared next to the dive boat. The comforting face of the skipper looking down at them and the sun shining above his head was a good feeling. Each taking thier turn to pass their diving gear on board before finally climbing the small ladder.

They sat on the deck of the diveboat again, feeling tired and relieved. Whilst the skipper stowed their gear Richard told Rachel about what had happened whilst he was in the cargo hold. They had both learnt a great lesson about solo diving. They both sat there in an almost trance, both knowing what might have happened.

The sound of the skippers voice brought them back to reality, a big grin on his face and remarking jokingly that he ought to have the bottle from the wreck as his fee. Richard had forgotten that he had put the object in his pocket. The skipper finding it as he sorted the gear out. They both stared at in almost disbelief as it had survived their ascent from the wreck.

That was the one and only time Richard dove that wreck, the near death experience had put him off trying again. It is believed that you only ever get one chance on a wreck like this. And its not as forgiving if you try your luck a second time.