It was one of my early dive expeditions we’d had an idyllic week, camping on the shores of this rather isolated loch and going out in the boat, hot sunshine long- summer days and good diving.  We were diving out of the loch and had gained permission to dive on the wreck of a collier beached in shallow water.
This wreck was one of the many victims mined or torpedoed in the Western approaches in those days of 1914-18 war.  One thing there was plenty of was coal, coal fires on the beach helped with the camp cooking and the locals weren’t adverse to the odd a free bag or two for good will.

Despite the fact we had dived this wreck all week and had got to know it inside out there didn’t seem much else on it in the way of value.  Not that that was the point it was still an interesting dive the anchors still trailed out and the cast iron prop still on never failed to impress. Over the years it had become something of a sheltered habitat for marine life offering a haven to fish and the odd lobster.

We were going to have another dive on it today; we motored out only a couple of minutes from the beach we could still see our camping spot. My regular dive buddy was John we had learnt to dive together.  A particular trade mark for John was his chilled laid back diving style. Whilst others seemed to swim around at break net speed from one end of the wreck to the other, John drifted around pulling himself through the kelp forests around the wreck. When buddied he had a particular habit of hovering above you, has wasn’t left or right but always there a couple of metres above. A bit disconcerting at first but ok once you got used to it!

The wreck was shallow in 14m.  So there I was finning along one side of the hull, on the seabed over mountains of best steam coal once earmarked for warships of the fleet. John as usual could clearly be seen hovering above making his way through the kelp on what was the mostly flattened deck and top of the wreck, there wasn’t much up there!  I glanced up to see Johns outline against the sunshine and the surface pushing the kelp aside and clocked that he’d stopped finning, something had sparked his interest.  I could see he now had hold of something partially masked by the kelp; yeah it was one end of yet another bit of piping about 4ft in length that littered the wreck being.  Now especially for John and knowing his temperament he was getting unusually animated and furiously rocking this piece of piping back and forth, what the hell did he want with that?

He signalled me to ascend to him I might as well have a look what was causing the commotion!  The pipe was well trapped in the wreckage and kelp; never the less he was still pulling it back and forth trying to liberate it like a man possessed.
Sensing the urgency of the task I joined in and gave him a hand helping rocking the pipe back and forth stirring up the silt in decreasing vis.
There was something curiously different about this pipe at this point I noted it had a capped end to it;  John took his knife out and scratched it, a glimmer of Brass interesting. I have to say I was still a bit bemused at why he was expending all that energy and using all that air? he wasn’t into collecting metals. We kept rocking the pipe back and forth each lurch releasing it further from the grasp of the wreckage. 

After several minutes finally it came free of the wreckage the remaining section appearing out of the kelp showing its true length. It was about 5ft in long with a flange on one end; it would clearly have been bolted to something. We manoeuvred it around I was still trying to get an idea what it was.  There was a machined opening in this pipe and something vaguely familiar about it. A realisation was starting to dawn “No it can’t be can it surely not it was?” What it was, was a ships steam whistle” yes poking up out through the kelp in only 3-4 metres of water. 
Johns face was a picture and even through the mask and regulator I could detect a wry smile, hell what luck. Various shouts and expletives where made by both of us through the regulator. Between us we dragged it off the wreck finning to our nearby moored boat, the exclamation on the surface““You’re just never going to believe what Johns found?” “What” “the whistle” “Yeah sure you have”came the reply of disbelief, no honest really.

The others in our boat still didn’t believe us till it hit the deck on the boat.   
The irony of the situation wasn’t lost reflected in dumbfounded looks, silence and disbelief as a couple of the self proclaimed non ferrous metals spotters who been scavenging the length of the wreck reflected on Johns nonchalance and his luck and as always his understated manner ,their faces really were a picture.  

Of all the luck!!!!!! The good humour kicked in John really did take some stick all in good humour.  After taking pride and place outside the tents for the remaining stay the item went back in the car home.  I have to say I and quite a few other fellow divers were pretty impressed when a few weeks later around at Johns place we clocked the now gleaming whistle stood upright next to the fireplace. There was no dispute it was not the thing you see next to everyone’s mantel piece, what do they say guaranteed to break the ice at parties? You bet!!!! .

Moral of the story the next time you’re exploring shallow wrecks it just pays to keep you’re eyes open don’t you think?.

It was a surreal panorama, on one side of the bay jagged prehistoric looking peaks lay outlined against the morning sky and in direct contrast on the other side perhaps what was the height of technology modern buildings the manned tracking station with hi tech aerials and golf ball radar domes.

Our arrival to this archipelago was an event in itself an18 hour overnight passage I searched out sanctuary from sea sickness in my bunk in the bow and slept through the worst of the battering. Sensing the waters had calmed I dragged myself out of my bunk and went for some fresh air topside. Appearing eerily out of the sea mist in the distance, what looked like mountains pointing straight out of the sea. As we crept closer with the swirling mist the whole scene increasingly looking like a backdrop for Jurassic park,talk about island on the edge of the world I hadn’t seen anything like that before, the place was special. I contemplated if the underwater topography was anything like what was showing above water, we were in for a diving treat, what a place!

We dropped anchor in Village Bay one of the few safe anchorages sheltered from the Atlantics battering and the only inhabited area of the islands. I learnt that you just don’t drop in ashore on St Kilda, as access is controlled and hence we radioed for permission to be granted to come ashore. It’s a place of contrasts, Crofts that once housed the resilient now long gone St Kildan community were now derelict and empty and lie in the shadow of the modern conveniences associated with an occupation of the island.

During our foray ashore the stations commanding officer welcomed and introduced himself we discovered was a keen diver. Frustratingly for him he was the only diver at the station and despite his posting to this diving heaven he hadn’t been able to buddy up and explore the waters.

As first dive we were going to have a night dive off the boat in the bay, nothing too taxing, the C.O. (Commanding Officer) was invited to join us .As it doesn’t get dark in these latitudes till late we thought 11pm should see darkness descend and be about right. Well as things happened by the time we got sorted and ready to kit up on deck it was midnight, embarrassingly it still wasn’t dark best described as a twilight, so light you could easily read a newspaper, so much for our night dive weird a strange place this St Kilda.

Over the next few days we motored out of our anchorage of Village bay, maximising our time exploring the archipelago, diving directly off the boat or occasionally from the small inflatable tender. We explored Dun, Sgarbh Stac,  Achlaisir ,The Saw cut I had read about these, all known as legendary dive sites. The diving was superb, crystal clear blue oceanic water with regular 30m vis, fantastic underwater archways of cathedral like proportions. One particular dive was even more memorable. Whilst my dive buddy and I were doing some underwater abseiling hanging off a cliff face at 30m we were startled to see a flock of seabirds nonchalantly dive past in what looked like underwater flight in pursuit of fish. Don’t see that everyday do ya?

Throughout the week every dive yielded that Wow factor, there was a lot about St Kilda and the atmosphere that for me and others left you lost for words a “special Place”. I’ve dived many places since all memorable in their own right for a variety of reasons but I’ve yet to find something to match Kilda. Maybe I’ll get back someday!!  Suffice to say if you get the chance of a trip to “Go For it” you won’t regret it.

At Anchor Village Bay

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The six of us assembled on the quayside on the Sunday morning ready to board our chartered hard boat for the day. Four divers with a look but not touch policy two others well liked their bits of non ferrous metals. The early warning signs that this was going to be an eventful trip were there Andy turned up with a new toy an “air chisel” to release booty which was run off a first stage from a  pony bottle quite how and for how long this would function wasn’t elaborated on.

It was a perfect summer’s day we boarded our boat and arrived over the wreck site, a cargo ship upright at 40m. The first two pairs went in shortly followed by my buddy and I. Picking our way down the shot line there were no signs of the other four, the tide was running strong the vis wasn’t good; more like diving in coffee. At 40m a few metres away we could just see the very faint glow of what were high powered torches. Moving closer I could make out the outline of something it was the wreck having spotted something solid and the possibility of securing ourselves against the current we grasped the guardrail on the deck.

As early on as this my buddy and I had taken stock this hadn’t the making of a pleasure dive it wasn’t a comfortable place to be. The silence was shattered with the hammering of an air chisel and in what little visibility outlined in the beam of a torch the shape of a lump hammer wielding diver Andy could just be made out trying to liberate some piece of metal.  We had had only 3 mins bottom time trying to keep station in the tide had left my buddy and I exhausted we’d had enough and we signalled our ascent.

Back on the boat, the skipper was a bit surprised by our early arrival, and asked if there was a problem? Clearly it was luck of the draw not his fault the tide was running a bit more than anticipated and the vis was much worse than he’d expected, that’s diving!
The second pair ascended after completing some short stops and joined the banter on the boat.   It was now getting about the time the last hammer wielding pair should be surfacing.
Somewhat later than our anticipated time of their arrival they appeared. Breathing air by anyone’s standards there was an opinion murmured and concern they were pushing their luck and bottom times aboard both were pretty evasive about just what deco “if any” they had done.  The “chisel kid” Andy’s dive computer was bleeping in protest in error mode.  With a wry smile his answer to this was to take it off fasten it to a weightbelt and rope and lower it over the side to a suitable depth, Yeah that would clear it.

We motored back and the group left the boat, dekitting on the quayside in the general after dive banter Andy was protesting his shoulder was aching, and to be honest he was feeling a bit rough. He qualified his condition by his admission that he had had more than a few beers till the early hours of the morning. 

He was adamant it must have been all that hammering he was doing that led to his shoulder ache, and thought he had pulled a muscle.  Consensus from the group was it would be wise just to get it checked out to be on the safe side, no he was adamant he’d be O.K.
Following a pub lunch, and a few drinks Andy appeared, the pain in his shoulder still there if anything had got worse. In the back of my mind probably in common with the others I was subconsciously ticking the boxes for predisposition to DCS and I suggested he go on the O2 Kit.
A belligerent Andy accepted the 02. Within a few minutes his pain started to ease, a consensus was forming he needed some medical treatment. The coastguard was called and within a few minutes an ambulance arrived on the quayside.

On arrival the paramedics having heard from Andy it was a muscle strain the paramedics wanted to put him on entinox this particular crew weren’t too clued up on DCS Andy didn’t want to make a fuss and wasn’t too keen at the thought of having to sit in the ambulance.  Whilst being assessed the true circumstances and probable cause of the shoulder ache were explained to the paramedics.  Denial is a funny thing isn’t it? now for some perverse reason (maybe because the pain was going and he was feeling better). Andy wouldn’t get in the ambulance or entertain any further treatment. At this point managed to talk his way out of any further medical treatment and was adamant in assuring the crew “it was only a muscle strain” reluctantly the ambulance crew departed minus Andy. 
From the nervous look on the group member’s faces I clearly wasn’t on my own I wasn’t happy with the outcome but however misguided Andy’s decision we couldn’t force him to seek treatment it was up to him.
Faced with a long drive home and with his promise if his condition deteriorated he would seek treatment we decided to call it a day. Our parting vision, Andy sat in the front of the van with 02 cylinder under his arm pocket mask clamped to his face; unsurprisingly he was getting some strange looks from holidaymakers meandering on the quayside. Perhaps thinking does oxygen come as a standard fitment to a Ford Transit?
The following Monday morning I heard from another member of the party, who related Andy had driven home and gone to bed having awoken in pain in the early hours. Now added to his ache in his shoulder a feeling of “something not right” with one side of his body and he had difficulty moving and getting out of bed.  A phone call with diving medical personnel confirmed the likelihood he was bent and was immediately transported to the nearest local chamber.
Several long hours of treatment, followed. It subsequently came out that an embarrassing conversation with the medical attendant at the chamber came about when they downloaded his dive profile from his computer to confirm his dive profile and assist in treatment. The medical attendant perplexed at the apparent dive profile, embarrassingly Andy spilt the beans as to just how it had clocked up that profile.

17 hours of treatment later, Andy had made a full recovery and after a few weeks layoff from diving he was back on his quest for salvage.

This recovery was going to a challenge, we grounded the rib in the shallow waters on the sand and someone was assigned to go and bring the Transit flat back truck and boat trailer from the nearby car park. None of us relished the idea of carting carrying heavy diving equipment back to what seemed a distant shoreline; we opted to leave it on the boat. The truck and trailer arrived, the beach was nice and flat and the sand looked well compacted. Unhitching the trailer we pushed it into the water, guided the rib onto it and secured it with the winch. Two at the back pushing and two lifting the tow hitch we hitched it to the truck. Hell was the boats really that heavy? Apparently it was. In the interim minutes the sea was by now lapping around the trailer axles and the surf was breaking over the rear of the trailer ,the tyres looked odd were they sinking?

The truck was fired up & plenty of revs applied as it strained to move the loaded boat on trailer, it’s wheels started to slip it wasn’t going anywhere it was now stuck and to our alarm the trailer axles was now sinking further into the sand. The exclamation was made “We need a four wheel drive”! So one of our party was sent to bring his Frontera that should do the job. A rope was procured and tied to the rear towing hitch of the 4 wheel drive the other end tied to the front of the truck. The Frontera would help pull out the truck and then try the trailer. Slowly revs applied, it too was struggling, wheels slipping, and it couldn’t do it and was also getting bogged down, by now its owner getting distinctly alarmed at the prospect of his beloved off motor abandoned to a sandy fate. It was released and unhitched without the truck’s burden relived he drove his 4 wheel drive out to safety.

By now the unfolding circus was being witnessed by onlookers one of who we discovered was the proud owner of a Range Rover, “Yeah that would do it, we would he give it a try? Quite keen to offer his services and show his 4 wheel driving prowess he would pull our truck out. The rope was now attached to rear of his 4 wheel drive a suitable gear ratio and drive selected slowly the revs were applied, four red faced divers now strained pushing at the back of the truck , it’s moving its moving , no it isn’t .
Range rover wheel spinning not only was it not moving but the heavy Range Rover was also now stuck, Oh Shit!!!!!!

By now the whole event was drawing a crowd it looked like it was rapidly becoming the unscheduled centre of attention for the visitors to this small village. Not only was this getting embarrassing it was nightmare, boat and trailer, truck and Range Rover all now stuck, in the sand we needed to do something. At this point a chap wandered onto the beach in what was clearly a laid back manner in a local accent told us he had a tractor nearby and was willing to attempt a recovery with boat and trailer, truck and Range Rover now all firmly entrenched in the sand, Hmmm wasn’t much likelihood of an old tractor making a difference was there? We’d be thankful for any attempt.

In a cloud of diesel heralded the tractors arrival onto the beach, Tow Ropes tied with suitable applause from the bystanders spectating in the front of the nearby pub the Ranger Rover it was pulled out. Next having unhitched the truck from the boat the truck pulled free was liberated. Finally the start of it all the boat and trailer was retrieved up the beach to the slip way. All homage to saviour tractor and driver having succeeded with what seemed apparent ease were others failed. Indebted to the driver a worthy financial contribution was offered and accepted

As with all diving type “epics” lessons were learnt, despite the fact we were all tired it would have saved heartache if we had unloaded the heavy gear off the boat, seems pretty obvious now. The fact the beach looked ok and the tide was out hadn’t allowed the sand to dry out sufficiently. Don’t put your faith in one thing  i.e. 4 wheel drives aren’t the answer to everything.

Every picture tells a story

 First thing Monday morning I made me usual call to see how the diving went, I could tell immediately in his voice something was wrong. Have you heard about Peter?
He related to me how the group had dived the wreck with a local diver who knew it like the back of his hand. The group had dived this wreck many times and were familiar with overall layout.
Peter and local dive buddy David commenced exploring the wreck making an active decision to stick to the outside. Peter was following David both navigating their way along the deck.  Dave made one of the regular checks to make sure Peter was behind and still in view.  Peter wasn’t there anymore, where had he gone? he was there a few minutes ago Dave backtracked to locate him where the hell had he gone?  Dave swam on meeting the rest of the group and gestured Peter was missing… Low on air it was decided to end the dive anyway Peter having lost his dive buddy would be back on the boat by now. Once on the surface Peter’s partner on the boat to everyone’s surprise and concern said he wasn’t on the boat, I thought he was with you? The awful realisation was now kicking in was he still on the wreck? they couldn’t go down on the wreck no air left. 
 

Its one of those situation that’s no one ever wishes to be in, they made a  short search of the area above the wreck, maybe he was on the surface having surfaced out of view of the boat, and drifted off it does happen.  A diver overdue call to Clyde coastguard who instigated a search, Peter wasn’t found.  The reality of the situation was all too apparent
The group stayed behind overnight and on the Monday afternoon the Police along with rebreather equipped navy divers visited the wreck site with details of where he was last seen ,no longer a rescue operation it was now a recovery.
Peter was eventually found tanks empty bcd inflated having swam one deck down via a companion way. The entrance to this particular route into the wreck hadn’t been discovered before and had been found by pure chance by the recovery divers.
No one knew it existed.  This was a new and obviously a fatal entrance.
 

At the funeral no one was really sure what had gone wrong, Yes he’d swam down into the wreck but why it wasn’t like him? Peter was a safety conscious diver and not considered as someone who took risks, if there was anyone who was less likely to take risks he was it, he wasn’t equipped for wreck penetration and knew it.
 An inquest was held all his equipment had been working however his umbilical torch fastened to him had been found flooded.