BSAC London No.1 Branch

On Wednesday 21st November we were lucky enough to receive a First Aid training course from the London Ambulance Service. Norman, our trainer, has been an Ambulance Technician in South London for over ten years and passed a wealth of practical knowledge on to us during the two hour session. The course was well attended with fourteen London Branch members attending.

The London Ambulance Service (LAS) and British Heart Foundation have been campaigning to improve Basic Life Support (BLS) skills in London. This has proven to be a success with the survival rate from heart attack improving from less than 10% to over 15% in the last couple of years. This is a remarkably low percentage of the 10,000 or so cardiac arrests that LAS receive calls for per year but shows how much the campaign can achieve in a short space of time.

I’ll use the rest of the article to talk about some of the skills we learned on the course. Of course my waffling is no substitute for a real First Aid course so if you don’t understand anything here you may want to have a word with our Training Officer!

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Didn’t we have, a lov-er-ly time, the day we went to, er… Bognor.

Well, actually we did… What had promised to be an under-subscribed weekend made for a full boat of people who nipped down to Littlehampton on Sunday for a gentle plop in what turned out to be excellent conditions (underwater at least).

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Hannah, Richard Grimshaw, Matthew Gentile, Keith Gramam, Jim Bruce, Mark Vowles and myself trecked down to Plymouth for a weekend on the hardboats. Here are a few pics taken by Jim.

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Far away in the tropical waters of the Caribbean, two prawns were swimming around in the sea - one called Justin, and the other called Christian.
The prawns were constantly being harassed and threatened by sharks. Finally, one day Justin said to Christian, “I’m fed up with being a prawn. I wish I was a shark, then I wouldn’t have any worries about being eaten.”
A large mysterious cod then suddenly appeared and said, “Your wish is granted”, and lo and behold, Justin turned into a shark. Horrified, Christian immediately swam away, afraid of being eaten by his old mate.
Time passed and Justin found life as a shark boring and lonely. All his old mates simply swam away petrified whenever he came anywhere close to them.
While swimming alone one day Justin saw the mysterious cod again, and he thought perhaps the fish could change him back into a prawn - he missed his old life so.
He approached the cod and begged to be changed back, and, lo and behold, he found himself a prawn once more. With tears of joy in his tiny little eyes, Justin swam back to find his friends.
Looking around the gathering at the reef he couldn’t see his old pal. “Where’s Christian?” he asked. “He’s at home, still distraught that his best friend changed sides and became a shark”, came the reply.
Eager to put things right, Justin set off to Christian’s abode. As he opened the coral gate memories came flooding back. He banged on the door and shouted, “It’s me, Justin, your old friend. Come out and see me.”
Christian replied, “No way man, you’ll eat me. You’re a shark - I’ll not be tricked into being your dinner.”
Justin cried back “No, I’m not. That was the old me. I’ve changed - I’ve found Cod. Now I’m a prawn again, Christian”.
Boom boom.

France was very lovely, and for those of you who couldn’t make it this time around, you missed an extremely good trip. Good diving, incident-free, and some lively boat rides.

For me, it was interesting to go in September as my three previous trips to Port-Cros had been in June, when conditions and marine life were slightly different. So, what was particularly good about it?

Highlight 1: Warm water - 23 degrees, so even I made an appearance in a wetsuit and was rarely cold, and that beautiful deep blue colour that makes you want to swim out into the open water and pretend to fly, well it does me anyway.

Highlight 2: Shoaling barracudas, which were a fantastic sight and something I hadn’t seen on previous occasions. They were close in to the walls we were diving on, and circling around in vast numbers - sizeable beasties too, some of them must have been 80+cm long. I have read subsequently that they’ve been known to bite people, especially when shoaling, so I might not have been quite so enthusiastic about swimming at them had I known that. Also, (top piece of barracuda trivia coming up…) apparently they’re attracted to yellow things, so choose your diving companions with care.

Highlight 3: Walls covered in life - lots of anemones and, as you got down to around 25m, gorgonia too.

Highlight 4: Dinky little purple nudibranchs, otherwise known as Flabellina affinis, which hold a particular appeal for me in my role as Nudibranch Queen… these are covered in delicate spines tipped with mauve, although I failed to spot any of my previous faves, the brown-and-white spotted flat variety. I’ve seen a lot of those on other trips, so I don’t know whether their absence was a seasonal thing, or whether there’s been some change in the marine ecology which has caused their demise.
Plus, this was the first year I’d managed to see anything of the surrounding area - one day was blown out due to strong winds - and Favière is at the end of a particularly attractive stretch of the Côte d’Azur, so driving along the corniche is a Very Fine Thing.

So, a great week, thanks in particular to Nigel and Gillian who organised it and everyone who towed the boats down and ensured they performed perfectly in some quite difficult seas. If you get the chance to go diving down there at some point in the future, it’s highly recommended - staying at home looking at seaslugforum.net just isn’t the same.

Jennifer

Towards the back end of August, ten members of London Branch left town for the lure of Northern Scottish diving. All our gear was tossed into the back of a rented minibus and the three drivers (Alex, Tobias’s friend Iain and I) took it in turns to drive through the night. Our journey was rather eventful; indeed we were lucky to make Stromness at all.

The first incident occurred in Leeds at about 11pm. While performing a three-point turn, the minibus stalled blowing the main engine fuse. Nothing worked - engine, hazard warning lights and headlights were all kaput. Fortunately the nose of the minibus was pointing into the drive of someone with a movement-activated security light. While we waited for the RAC to arrive, our caffeine-fuelled fidgeting kept the light constantly lit and the poor residents, whose drive we were standing on, peering through the curtains.

Now about three hours behind schedule, we zipped through Northern England and Scotland, pausing for only a few minutes to stock up on fuel, food, duvets, school jumpers and birthday cards (I kid you not). Most people slept soundly through the night, only waking up when we passed speed cameras: “Gatsco” being spoken in dulcet tones from Jeff’s GPS, sharp braking followed by heavy acceleration.

 On arrival at Scrabster, we had a few minutes spare to visit John O’Groats and have our pictures taken before heading for the ferry. It was a pretty surreal experience: it turned out that Cameron from Big Brother (remember him? nor me) was returning home for the first time since winning the show. The party for him on the ferry was huge (as huge as a party in the Orkneys can get), with dancing, singing and free champagne! When the ferry arrived at Stromness, a thousands-strong welcome party was there to greet us. Well, not us exactly, but we pretended they were.

Diving started with a vengeance the next day. That consisted of a morning dive to a fairly deep wreck lying on its port side, broken away midships. Lunch was taken on the island of Hoy with a trip around the war museum. The afternoon dive was a little bit shallower to a wreck lying on its port side, broken away midships. This was repeated for six days. The dives got progressively deeper, the ships got progressively larger, the holes amidships got progressively wider.

The war museum was interesting for the first few days, after which we started to find alternative lunchtime entertainment. We went to see a military graveyard one day; slept through (sorry, watched) a film about The Orkneys another day; listened to Jeff moaning about walking long distances (1 mile); I got told off for climbing 80-year-old gun emplacements and Tobias filmed cow p0rn.
Unfortunately for us a couple of things conspired to make the diving not as great as it could have been. Most trips to The Flow tend to dive a deep battleship or cruiser in the morning followed by a blockship in the afternoon. The blockships are relatively shallow boats sunk to block the entrance to Scapa Flow, intended to stop enemy U-Boats entering. Slack tide is relatively short so that while you go down on slack, you surface in a 5 knot tide. Skippers only let you dive in these currents when you will drift back into the flow - the week we were there we would have been pulled into the Atlantic, with obvious risks. Our only opportunity to dive one of these ships was in the morning which meant no second dive (skipper’s rules: second dive MUST be shallower than the first). We did this once and it was (in my opinion) one of the best dives of the week.

Tides are something I would never have thought could be a problem in Scapa Flow, but having been caught out once I will certainly check next time.
While we managed to work around tidal limitations, we could not avoid the plankton bloom. The unusually hot weather we have had this year caused the plankton to arrive earlier than usual, and we managed to catch it full-on. The expected 20 metre visibility ended up being somewhat less.

Despite all my doom-and-gloom reporting, the diving was superb. For those of us who were relatively inexperienced, the diving was both interesting and challenging. Some of the ships were so large you thought you had hit the ocean floor and it was narcosis making you see rivets holding the ocean bed together. The swim-throughs were interesting and the massive guns were fascinating as they appeared out of the murk.

After our morning’s dive on the blockships, we had an afternoon off. Jeff and Chris decided to spend it in the pub, while the rest of us took a short stroll along the coast to visit Scarra Bray, a prehistoric settlement. I was leading the way, and whilst my navigation was spot-on (keep the coast on the left), my estimation of distance left a little bit to be desired. We all worked up an appetite for dinner, but I don’t think Tobias has forgiven me yet…

On our final day the diving was almost called off. The seas were so rough that Iain spent most of the trip leaning over the rail, not helped by Jeff’s descriptions of his greasy fried breakfast. We managed to find a fairly sheltered cove for a scenic dive made all the more entertaining by trying to climb back up the heaving ladder afterwards.

Our last evening in Stromness coincided happily with the 10th anniversary of the Orkney beer festival. As the ferry was departing after midday the next day, we all made the most of it.

On the last day we had a morning to work off our hangovers. Some went cycling, some went on a visit to Kirkwall (and its distillery). The ferry crossing and journey back were much quieter than those out, and we again travelled through the night back to London.
On the whole, the trip was great fun. Everyone had a great time and a lot of diving experience was gained. Despite the less-than-perfect conditions, the diving was sufficiently challenging and interesting to keep us going all week. Chris and Damien (who ran the boat) were great (thanks guys), and made sure that we did the best possible dives we could. Thanks to Tobias for organising everything, too.
Morgan

The Goldsithney Karst Rain Project
a.k.a. DIW (Doing It Wet) 

July 19th 2003, and a crack team from London Branch embark on an exploration push deep into the Treveneague Sump (known locally as the soggy end of Phil’s campsite). To reach our objective of breaking the record for saturation-camping, we would have to have the weather on our side and keep all diving activity down to a bare minimum.

Preparation had begun early, with the support crew of Bernie and Keith having arrived the previous day to deliver vital supplies (kettle/gas stove) and position the safety boat, a large RIB to be used as a bail-out craft in case of severe flooding. One by one, the team arrived and laid out their Hogarthian tent systems, ranging from Jon W’s streamlined bungee-less single dome to Bernie’s friend Mike whose closed-circuit marquee sported an isolation zip between the twin sleeping areas, fold out table, back-up chairs and integral 18W HID lighting.

The mood was anxious by nightfall and we just hadn’t seen anywhere near enough rain to make our project a success. But by sunrise, our fears were allayed as the team awoke to the first of many dismally wet mornings, and by lunchtime, after a tough swim-through on the traverse to the bakery in Marazion, we sat clutching our soggy pasties thinking to ourselves how lucky we were to have planned the expedition during the wettest Cornish week that summer.
As a relative newcomer to DIW (though countless washed-out holidays as a child to Filey and Bridlington have undoubtedly accelerated my education), it was an honour to spend time with some of DIW’s grandees, from whom I learned a great deal. “The first rule of DIW”, explained Keith, “is never camp with strokes”. A stroke is someone who has no regard for dampness while camping, and who, despite maybe knowing of ways to avoid staying dry and comfortable, nevertheless chooses not to. If you camp with strokes you are risking your own wetness. What may start out a simple exercise in going to borrow some milk from their caravan can easily escalate into having a chat whilst in this dangerous waterless environment, or even watching some TV, and by that stage it’s too late. Even short to medium term exposures at such elevated dryness levels can have irreversible effects on overall wetness.

Unfortunately several of London Branch who were also in Cornwall that week fall into that category. Perhaps the worst offenders were Jeff and Tobias, and I cite them as examples for you all to learn from. Despite staying on the same campsite they chose to spend the whole week under a hard roof, with electricity, onsite toilet and kitchen facilities. Unfortunately, such ideas are now being actively pushed by the outdoors industry and are gaining favour amongst the less experienced no thanks to a lowering of standards amongst the recreational camping agencies. However, an equipment configuration such as this will do nothing to keep you wet. For instance, even if you switch from your primary WC to the outdoor facility, due to the up-field positioning of your caravan, there will simply be too small a moisture gradient between clothing and skin for the short dash to the lavs to result in accelerated drenching. A mistake that could easily be avoided by staging your quarters (a simple sheet of nylon) at the opposite side of the site, thus maximising the precipitation window.

However, in spite of such ignorance, the project was a resounding success. We were only unlucky with the weather once or twice and due to clear skies had to resort to jumping in the sea to get wet. But other than that, I’m pleased to be able to report that conditions in these wonderful Cornish fields were consistently abysmal and this period of commitment and sacrifice ultimately led to a redefinition of technical camping and extreme tea making.

This was all made possible through the dedicated surface and knee-deep-in-water support teamwork required to stage such an expedition under very difficult conditions. My thanks go to all involved.

Joe

James Astrop proves that life beneath the waves in Brighton is just as varied as that above them as he reports on the first of this year’s skive dives…
What were you doing on Wednesday 11th June? Did you struggle to work on an over hot tube train, spend the day looking out of the office window, wishing you were somewhere else? Did your van get stuck in traffic on the way to the job and you spent your day inside some ducting cursing the heat and the fact the delivery parts had not turned up. Well just to make you jealous four of us went diving.

Okay, so to get on the wreck for slack we had to leave London at quarter to six, but that was the day’s only hardship. Nell, Jane, Tobias and I arrived, bright eyed and bushy tailed, well okay then half asleep and in need of coffee, on the harbour in Brighton at 7.30am to join the hard boat Nautical for a days diving.

Steve Johnson, the skipper, got us away as soon as our kit was on board and steamed at full speed to the wreck site and hit slack perfectly. The wreck was that of the Fortuna, a 1,200 ton Dutch steamer that was sunk after striking a mine in 1916, lying at 50 41 38N; 00 02 16W, that’s about five miles due south of Newhaven. Only one of us was sea sick on that leg of the journey and I’m not telling who.

The pairs were Jane and I then Tobias and Nell. As non of us had done any diving this year we kept to a fairly conservative profile, planning not to go below 30m and not to rack up any deco. The wreck lies upright at 35m with the deck rails at about 30m; Steve got the shot line almost on the prow so our dive was restricted to the fore sections on the boat. Jane and arrived on the wreck to be greeted with about 3m vis and a mass of Tompot blenny. Tompots just have this “what are you looking at” face and it was like walking into a pub where only locals ever go, I’m sure I heard one say “stick to the path lads, don’t go on t’ moor”.

We worked our way sternward keeping to a depth of about 30m but this was fine as the Fortuna is relatively intact and is awash with wild life. We saw all of the normal wreck species, Bib, Poor cod, Balleen Wrasse, Goldskinny Wrasse, edible crab etc. We also saw some more unusual gubbins such as leopard spot goby and a flat fish, unusual on a wreck. I think it was a Top Knot though Jane thought it was a Lemon sole as we cannot agree on which side it eyes were.

One of the holds had a cargo of bags of cement, which have hardened into rounded square rock like structures. The view reminded me of Fingles cave or the Giant’s Causeway in that they looked natural but also man made and repetitive.

As we were readying ourselves to return up the shot, I tried to waft some detritus from my arm and it started to walk sideways. It was a decorator crab, a gubbins which is about 5cm across and rather spider like in appearance. The decorator crab is so called because it disguises it self by sticking bits of algae about its body and hence looking like flotsam or jetsam in the water.

Before the second dive another of our group succumbed to mal de mer: it takes a day to get your sea legs. The second was a drift dive about a mile off Brighton beach. It was fun but unremarkable. The vis was only about 3m and it was running at about 1.5 kts, so one did have the occasional surprise. Jane and I did the biggest conga in Christendom, it was about five feet long and ten inches wide near its pectoral fins; honest it was a sea monster.

The next skive dive is on Friday 29th August, see advert on the following page, so book early to avoid disappointment.
James

Easter weekend saw some twenty-odd of us, plus Percy, Percy Too and the majority of the populace of greater London heading down the A303 to Plymouth, where, back in the dark ages, TJ had taken the far-sighted precaution of booking accommodation at the Mount Batten water sports centre.

Contrary to the rest of the UK, we had good weather and reasonably calm seas, although some may argue the (pitch and) toss over the latter – special thanks go to Chris Cole for running through the list of the greasiest foods he could think of on the way back from Darren’s first open water dive (aka OW fish feeding).

Dives were made on the Mew Stone, Hillsea Point, the Mew Stone, the breakwater, the Mew Stone and then, for a change, the Mew Stone. That said, we saw lots of starfish, kelp, anemones, crabs, wrasse, cuttlefish and even a thorny-backed ray (or maybe not!).
The viz was good, the water wasn’t too cold, the accommodation was clean, with plentiful hot water and friendly staff, the beer was plentiful and the Easter eggs most welcome (thanks Sarah, Gillian and Nicky!). Many thanks to the marshals for managing to see that everyone got the option of two dives a day and, as ever, the instructors were ready, willing and able to ensure that buddies were available for the less experienced. Some quick turnarounds were made and there were some interesting techniques adopted for pulling the trolley from the pontoon back to the centre – suffice it to say that I wouldn’t want to be in the car with certain people if that’s an example of their driving technique! [guess who had to share with one of the culprits…only kidding Alex - Ed]
Richard and Morgan formed a team to strike terror into all sea life - amazing how the enthusiasm grows with the prospect of hands-on marine biology and a demonstration of ‘dogfish darts’. Percy, in best Plymouth tradition, broke down at sea with remarkably similar problems to last time and limped back to shore to be tenderly looked after by Nigel and TJ – we appreciate it, guys! Alex tried to imitate the Michelin man on the surface when his drysuit dump valve reversed and filled the suit with a mixture of air and water. Morals: don’t let Richard drive the boat (when it breaks down twice when you’re driving it begins to look too suspicious to be an accident…) and don’t let Tobias fix your dump valve!

Having kindly volunteered to tie my reel to my SMB, Bernie then undertook to demonstrate how to tie a bowline – rabbits, holes, trees, etc. – a knot which he proudly claimed, “could hold the Queen Mary”. Much amusement then when I took the SMB out to find that the knot had come undone!

After the stories from prior years, a visit to the fish and chip shop on the Barbican had to be made to check out the waistline and toupee of the proprietor – one had obviously grown and one was just obvious. Valiant efforts were made to eat things seen on the dives, although top marks have to go to anyone who consumed the hideous ‘Nepalese cocktail’ we were given at the Indian … great idea to pour it into the flower vase, Alex – shame someone else had thought of it first!

The Plymouth scene lived up to reputation (think Goth come Rocky Horror) although the drag queens didn’t seem to pose a deterrent to returning into town after the girl with the pierced belly-button, improbable clothes and open-toed sandals (“Sandals…? I hadn’t made it past the midriff!”) got off the ferry as we were getting on to return back to base…

Megan