My day out with BSAC 22

 

Beep. Grunt. Beep. Shuffle. Beep. Smash. My alarm finally stopped, as I was dragged out of my cosy slumber. Reluctantly I got dressed, but then I suddenly remembered why I was up so early, and a wave of excitement, which would rush over me many times throughout the day, quickly made me speed up. I remembered the phone call we got yesterday from Vernon the skipper, asking if I wanted to come down with my dad and the other divers. I hurried downstairs and put the kettle on. I tried to drink my tea as fast as my burning mouth would let me. We had packed the kit the night before, so we just had to jump in the car and go.

Soon, we were on the road, going to meet Derek. We hauled the gear out of the car, onto the path, then in to Derek’s car. I slipped into the smooth leather seats, and before I knew it, we were near Littlehampton. I strained my eyes, and stretched the seatbelt to see the sea. The car went into the little town, and if I hadn’t known where we were, I just had to look at the shop names. Nearly all of them had ‘Littlehampton café’ or ‘Littlehampton local shop’. We pulled up at the jetty and once again we unloaded the car. We pulled the gear down to the walkway next to the boats, and that was when I first set my eyes upon ‘Our Joy’. I was shocked by how big it was and it’s ruggedness. I stepped onto the edge and leaped into the boat. A boyish fascination washed over me, as I saw all the levers, buttons, and screens. I restrained myself from further inspection, and busied myself on helping with the kit. Soon the other divers came, and was shortly followed by the Skippers. Vernon and Daniel wore purple t-shirts, and strolled over to us, greeting other skippers on their way. As they neared, a spatter of ‘Hellos’ and ‘How are you?’ I was shocked, because as soon as the greetings were over, the banter started.

We sat in the café, drinking tea, eating breakfast and checking our watches. I patiently waited for the time to come for when we went onto the boat again. Finally, the time came, and we went to the boat. I stepped on again, and felt the wake of a passing boat rock the vessel. I staggered around like a drunken chimpanzee, until I found my sea legs. I found them quite quickly, but every so often I would lose my balance. The divers put their dry suits on, and some settled down to sleep and relax.  The engines roared into life, and my ears were ringing, as though someone had fired a gun next to me. The boat leapt out of the harbour, at an amazing speed. I found myself slightly confused, as it felt as though I was speeding along, but there was nothing but water stretching out in the horizon, so I couldn’t compare the speed to a stationary object. The boat sped up, and a huge wave erupted from the back of the boat, as the propellers churned up the sparkling blue water. I tried to talk, but my voice was no match for the engine. Daniel came over to me and told me about the safety procedures and equipment on the boat, and I struggled into a lifejacket, in case I fell overboard. We seemed to chuck endlessly into the horizon, the little seaside town of Littlehampton disappeared into the sea mist; a little white building was the only visible sign of land. As it was hard to talk on the boat, I found myself drifting into deep thought, about what it would like to live at sea on a ship during war time. Alan, (seen in the picture below asleep) kept saying that a pirate ship would burst out of the rolling sea mist. I kept glancing over my shoulder just in case!

I crept into the warmth of the cabin, and was mesmerised by the flashing lights, dials and screens within. A friendly face saw me, and began to explain. One computer screen showed many contour lines, representing the depths and gullies of the sea floor. It had a green triangle, and I was told that this was a ship. It had a little box under it, and this contained the information of the ship. It told of its name, destination, cargo and its call sign.  Fascinated, I continued watching. On another screen, I saw a radar, at least two radios, and the GPS (Global Positioning system), which gave directions to the Basil. Vernon told me about the Basil. As we neared the site I saw on the sonar the ragged outline of a wreck. It was spooky to see a ghostly image appear on the screen. Vernon lent me a book, which I read. It gave a brief history about the ship, and how it was sank. I recall that a German U-boat, in World War one, sank it. Only a handful of the crew survived; as we drifted over the site, the skippers dropped the buoy, for a shot line, so the divers could follow it down to the wreck.  The group of divers grunted under the weight of their twin-set dive bottles. The reason why they had two bottles was so that they could stay underwater longer. Some, like my Dad, had a third bottle containing a Nitrox mix, so they could do less decompression time. Divers have to decompress, so they get the Nitrogen bubbles out of their blood, otherwise they may get Decompression sickness, or bent. I’m not very sure of the details as I don’t dive, but this is what I have picked up over the years. Eventually the first pair, Dad and Derek, were ready to dive. They waddled up to the lift and waited for the Skipper’s order.

“Go!” Yelled Vernon, and Daniel relayed this to the divers. They jumped in, sending a splash over us.  Then the boat went off, allowing the remaining pairs to go through one last check, and prepare to jump. Divers go in pairs, so that if there is a problem, the buddy may be able to help. For example, if a diver ran out of air, they would be able to Buddy Breathe (share the other diver’s air supply). The boat swung round and the other pair jumped, and then the process was repeated again for the final pair to jump. Then it was quiet, the engine idling, waiting to spring into life. It was made clear, before the divers jumped, that if they experienced a problem while under water they should send up a yellow buoy. Then the skippers would throw a spare tank over the edge for the diver to get. We waited and saw a balloon shaped lifting bag, so the Skipper raced over to it quickly, as the goodies below may cause the bag to sink. We got the bag on board, and we saw that it belonged to my dad. Then we saw a yellow buoy pop up. Usually, the divers send up red buoys to show that they were decompressing and that all was well. But we had seen a yellow buoy. At first there was a shocked silence. Was the diver in trouble? Then the two skippers acted like lightening, the boat sped towards the buoy and Daniel lobbed the bulky diving tank over the edge. We saw the trail of bubbles head towards the tank. After a while the diver came up. When we asked what happened he said that his red buoy had burst, so he sent up the yellow. He apologised and started to take off his kit.

Soon, all the divers had surfaced and the boat was on its way again. Our destination was a little wreck, closer to shore than the Basil. The Skipper had seen it on Sonar the other day and wanted the Divers to go and check it out for him. The trip to the site seemed to take ages, but we did get there. We had to wait for the right tide, so the skipper pushed a buoy over the edge. This buoy had a little ball attached to it, which showed when it was slack water. When the tide was running, the ball was submerged, but as the current slowed down towards slack water the drag decreased, allowing the ball to rise. It seemed like eternity for the little orange ball to pop up.

To pass the time, the Skipper cut the engines for the first time that day and bought out a fishing rod. We used feathers to go ‘Macky Bashing’ (fishing for Mackerel). I had little success, and I found that it used a lot of strength to keep the feathers constantly moving so I passed the rod to my dad, who caught four fish almost instantly. Enlightened by the thought of possibly catching some fish gave me some newfound enthusiasm. But it turned out that I wasn’t to catch anything. We checked on the orange ball, and finally, the orange glow emerged, like the sun rising over a hill on a summer’s morning. It was greeted with a cheer and the divers began hurriedly dressing themselves.

Once again the gang of divers were ready to jump, and the Skipper gave them the order. And once again, they were submerged into the dark depths. This dive was shorter (they intended 30-45 minutes, unlike the other dive, which was about 90 minutes). Once all the divers were in I felt a wave of hunger swamp me and I forced myself to eat something.

Once the divers had all surfaced the boat sped off towards land, whilst the soggy divers started to get changed. I established that divers, when fully kitted up, must be one of the most feeble and helpless beings on the planet. They struggle to get their gloves off, undo their fin straps and even take their hoods off. I attempted to help, but I realised I would be more of a help if I was out of the way.

The boat jerked as it crashed through the waves, causing me to stagger around. As we neared shore, I was asked to come into the cabin.

“How would you like to steer the boat?” Daniel asked me. I leapt at the prospect of actually being in charge of the boat’s movements, and I eagerly nodded. I was told the basics, and with Daniel standing next to me, I steered the boat near to the harbour. I quickly realised that there was a slight delayed reaction time, and Daniel had to take over a couple of times to stop me causing an accident. When Daniel took over to take the boat into the harbour we expertly stopped it next to a ramp, so that we didn’t have to lug the gear too far. I thanked the skippers, along with everyone else. They had given us a wonderful trip, and we, especially me, had thoroughly enjoyed ourselves.

Before I knew it, we were on the motorway, the windscreen wipers hypnotically working to send me to sleep. When the car stopped and I stood up, my legs still felt as if I was on the swaying boat. We unloaded the gear for the very last time that day, which left me feeling very tired, but content. I had learned a lot, but I wasn’t sure if I would remember it all. And that was my day out.

 

By Joe Blamey                                                                     View Pictures Of Joe's Day Out.

13 years old

Thanks to; Vernon and Daniel, Paul, Derek, Gordon, Dad, Alan and Ian