16th August "The only reason I can do shutdowns is because of all the straitjacket ..

[Freeflow]

...wearing I have done.

Diving with Derek [Ratcliffe] always seems like a good idea as you never know what he will come up with next, so the surface intervals can feel like being trapped inside the imagination of Spike Milligan. So it’s off to Stoney for us for an evening pootle and fish prod. As I was working in Rugby I was already half way there, but I was not “livin’ on a prayer”. A pop in to Phil’s shop “Mikes” on the way meant fully charged tanks and the chance to watch a modern day Hinge an Bracket at work. A second stop was into the Co op near Stoney for a sandwich and some other provisions.

Some of the 955 ruffians were there, Andy W [Twinset Mad], Fletch, Neale, and new boy Lee, all of whom are non YD-ers. We had a chat while waiting for the water to open, and I joined Neale in getting on with some paperwork. Neale was showing off the cutlass that he has decided would make a good dive knife, but that I think will make him sink left leg first. Then he was spraying some sort of shaving foam type stuff into his seals to make sure they slide on easier, although the side effect is that they make it look like you really enjoy dressing in rubber. Derek arrived in time to be introduced to Andy W, who was wearing a bright yellow hood, which we mocked. He sad it would keep his hair dry, to which I enquired if the mask would still seal with the hood pulled down over his eyebrows.

The first dive was planned for a change. Instead of the 'jump in, swim around, get out' plan we decided to go to the BOP at the right of the road to the pit, and then along the edge of the pit to the cairn that is near the coach. From there it was to be the coach and Stanegarth [gas supply dependant] and back. After being told off by Derek for saying I would be a statistic when I grew up, we wandered down to the waters edge, the bus stop being closed for some reason. I managed to be first in the lake for the evening session, shortly followed by Derek as the 955 crowd jumped in a bit further along.

Looking down to check the vis, it appeared to be about 5m, so we dropped quickly to the 6m ledge and headed off down the road. After a couple of metres I stopped and gave Derek my 3L sidemounted pony to do a quick buoyancy check and then we carried on into the depths. As we approached the old box that was dumped out of the way to make room for the APC I decided to swim under it, much to the annoyance of a couple of perch, but as they were smaller than me I didn’t care. Derek followed through the silt that I had thoughtfully kicked up for him and we continued on our merry way.

Following the road to the right I looked back and started to chuckle, as Derek’s drysuit valves make him look like a sheriff. I told him via the slate, before writing ‘Wyatt Twerp’ and retreating out of the range of his wrath. Given Derek’s surname, it’s not a totally inappropriate connection to make, although it’s normally me that is the cowboy diver. Bimbling through the BOP supports led the way to the pit were I turned back and followed the edge back towards the cairn. I was swimming over the edge to make sure that the two months off hadn’t took the edge of my buoyancy skills, and I was struggling to remember if one is supposed to look into the abyss or not, but I didn’t see any eyes staring back at me either way.

We arrived at the cairn, previously unvisited by Derek, and I showed him that keeping your back to the pit and swimming straight would get you to the coach. At this point I was on 170 bar, and Derek was on 130, so we went to the Stanegarth where I led the way through the wreck from the small hole behind the anchor winch at the bow to the small hatch at the stern. As I entered the wreck I closed my eyes briefly to let them adapt to the dark, and to take the time not to go head first into the step in the ceiling as I had the last time I had dived the wreck. Wriggling through the wreck and out the back, I turned to warn Derek not to whack his noggin on the way out. Once we were both clear of the overhead we popped over to the Wessex where I was able to initiate Derek in the ancient art of submerged see saws.

An ascent to 5m followed to do a safety stop, where we saw a sign on the Nautilus inviting all and sundry to go to Surrey to find a locked briefcase. A gentle ascent later saw us exiting at the slipway where I was mugged [in a friendly way] by a black Labrador. The post dive drinks were had, but at the bottom of my hot chocolate was something suspicious, so I binned the last third of it. I gave Derek a 15L for dive two, and for him to keep hold of over the weekend as he was off diving and he is a bit heavier on the gas than I am. He removed the bra straps from his weightbelt as well and redistributed the lead to take into account the removal of the pony. Personally I never bother shifting the lead around, because it is a pain to keep changing weighting configurations if I change my kit. As long as I have enough lead, that’s fine by me.



Derek’s drysuit valves are not unadjacent to this…

The 955 foursome disappeared off for a curry as Derek and I kitted up for round two. This was to be a wander to the blockhouse and back, and the dive plan of ‘water-pub-blockhouse-pub-out-pub’ was agreed upon. We walked down to the step to get in as the slip was busy, and I got into the water after passing a young lady washing a pair of wetsuit boots out. She was in a bit of a precarious position as she was leaning into the water from the quayside level.

“May I ask a silly question”, I enquired, to Derek rolling his eyes in horror as to what I would come out with next, “there is a set of steps here, wouldn’t it be easier to wash the boots from here”. The expression on her face was described by Derek later as one of ‘D’oh!’ and the washers friends all had a giggle. Of course at this point I could have been impolite and say at least her chosen position gave Derek and I had a chance to admire her posterior, but I didn’t want a soggy neoprene boot around the ear. I delicately fell sideways into the water and told Derek that I was in, to which he replied that he had noticed.

We dropped down to the 6m ledge again and meandered off to the blockhouse, stirring up the bottom now and again to bring the perch in to feed. As we approached the pub, I saw a bunch of perch surrounding a stone. Carefully lifting the stone I found a small crayfish that they were stalking, which I showed to Derek. Putting the stone back I walloped a perch out of the way that was trying for an early meal. As we swam on I tried breathing from my BC for a bit as I hadn’t tried this before. We got to the blockhouse without any further ado, apart from Jaws making and appearance to which one diver gave an OK signal to Derek after I had passed. At least it was like the OK signal but without the erect fingers and there was a little elbow movement as well.

We swam through the blockhouse and on the way back I waved Jaws around again before playing ‘Pass Derek The Heavy Rock’ and ‘Can I Fill Derek’s BC Pocket With Stones’, neither game meeting with much success. As we made our way to the surface I spotted a familiar looking white shell-a Drager diver! We got out at the steps near the wooden shed and I was looking up and down the carpark for the fellow SCR user, but I couldn’t spot one anywhere. As we dekitted the diver turned up two cars away from me, and she was wearing an Atlantis, not the Dolphin like I thought she was. We had a chat about the joys of SCR before Derek and I adjourned to the pub, eating donuts as we went.

In the pub was Steelemonkey who was telling horrible truths about me when he was undergoing training with a school I used to teach for. Any rumours about what I do with my thumb are partially unfounded…

Dive data

Dive 1

22.3 m
35 min
RMV= 17.5 [including a lot playing see saws]

SI 1h 4 min

Dive 2

7.0 m
24 min
RMV= 14.7

[ratcliffe]

You know whats really scary about this dive report ? Its all TRUE!

A couple of well crazy dives, but I had ace fun, and I achieved a couple of things kitwise... a good night!