2007 to end of May.

**Freef** · 31st May 2007, 21:04

You'll be glad to know this is the last of the long set of reports. From May on I'll post them individually.

**Freef** · 31st May 2007, 21:09

Arrangements were made to hit Stoney again to have a plinkle around on the Bank Holiday for Easter, some of 955 were heading up there mid morning, but Andrew F and I decided to go up for sparrow fart to get one in before Andy W and Alan [aka Stephanie] arrived. I would rather have been at the coast, but on the Saturday I was to lead an Easter Egg run for a motorbike club. Now, as the weather was nice I was looking forwards to a lie in but Andrew F thought that the lake would be busy. A text the Thursday revealed Neale was also coming out to play and they would text me when they left Northampton.

I was up early and loading the car when the text came. I was so overwhelmed with joy that I managed to lift a kit box a bit early and broke the number plate on one of my bikes. Great, but at least that will draw attention away from the bloody great lump of missing paint from the side of the tank [that’s petrol, not gas*] where I dropped my framed IAM Observer certificate on it the other day.

Setting off in a bad mood I enjoyed the sunrise and found the 0630 queue to be rather long-this is two hours before the gates opened. Andrew and Neale were nowhere near the front of the queue. I have an excuse or three for being in a lake-I am busy tomorrow, I’m trying out some rebreather mods and I’m allergic to seaweed, boats and salt.

Just as I start to do the site prep on the Dolphin the staff begin to arrive and we are shunted into the top car park, meaning I have to do a frantic repack of the car. Settling in for another hour and a half means plenty of time to rig the rebreather and do all the checks while there is time. The open circuiteers find another way to occupy their time…

Sneaking around with a camera isn’t mentioned in “How to win friends an influence people”, but the voices in my head keep me company and the Rice Krispies tell me what to do. Marianne was a few cars behind me, and told me a tale of woe that has earned her the nickname ‘Boomer’. It was a salutary tale of the reasons to NOT undo the isolator knob for a bit of a lube when there is pressure in the twinset you are working on.

Also lurking in the background was David, who I am off to Scapa with next year. After being relieved of a tenner, and listening to Neale complaining about being charged full whack just because his membership expired [five months previously] we were graciously allowed in to the bottom car park. Neale had nabbed a prime parking place and I managed to get in next to it. Some bloke pulled in next to me and promptly unloaded all his kit to the back of my car. We were ready and willing to get in when Marianne and David asked for a guided tour of the pit, and then to the gnomes. I pottered off to the bus stop to drop off my camera and stage before returning to find Andrew and Neale filling in the log sheet for the dive. Andrew was asking for gas in.

“FivelitreoffortytwohundredbarfortheDolphthreeofai rattwothreetwoforbailoutandasevenofthirty fourpointfouratonefiftyasastageandsuitgas”

“What?”

“Five-litre-of-forty-two-hundred-bar-for-the-Dolph,-three-of-air-at-two-three-two-for-bailout-and-a-seven-of-thirty-four-point-four-at-one-fifty-as-a-stage-and-suit-gas”

“What???? You need a sheet all to yourself when you are on that bloody rebreather…now what have you got in your five again?”

After the checks were done, the arcane rules of BSAC made for a debate. As I’m not a member of 955 or BSAC they were a bit amusing.

“So, if Andrew dives with you, that’s a branch dive?”

“Yes” replies Neale.

“If I dive with Andrew, that’s not a branch dive?”

“No”.

“What if Andrew dives with someone from a different club?”

“Look, I have to give a couple of marshall sheets to the others” and off he goes.

Heading back to the bus stop it is fully occupied, so I head to the step in near it and drop in. I grabbed my 7L from the bus stop and connect it up as some muppet starts hopping around near my camera trying to put his fins on. Easter is usually the start of the British dive season for those that don’t carry on through the winter. This could be seen from the amount of surface freeflows that were bubbling away as people got in to blow the cobwebs out.

Once we were all in I led the way to the 12m point where you can drop onto the blockhouse, snapping away as we went. With the water being a bit milky, I think that I will try to blame any dodgy pics on a grainy film rather than any photographic ineptitude on my part. Once at the coach we head to the cairn and into the pit, which is a bit clearer than the 20m level. After a bit of a swim around we go to the gnomes before heading back to the road from 20m to the 6m ledge.

I waved Andrew and Neale past so I could show Marianne and David the sleepers to follow on their second pit dive. I should have been a bit clearer in my signalling though as they carried on going. David got his camera out andstarted snapping away as some other divers stirred up the bottom on the way down the road. I tried to keep both pairs in sight, but the diminishing vis meant I had to take a choice, and that was to follow Andrew and Neale, if only for the amusement factor involved in what they were going to get up to next. I noticed that Neale was bubbling from his crack bottle inflated cylinder and stopped him to let him see the bubbles, resisting the urge to send it up attached to one of his D rings.

At the 30 min point Neale and Andrew scrambled up onto the step and I dragged myself up one of the ladders. Andy W and Alan [Steph] had arrived and came down to say hello in their uniquely abusing way. Andy W was so in awe of my diving he carried my fins back for me, and I didn’t even have to call him kit bitch.

.

I tried hiding from Alan for a bit until I could assess his mood, but he didn’t appear to want to kill me that much. Andy W then decided to tell us all he had a cold, so we told him to stand the other side of the car park. After Neale’s wife Emma showed up we tried to give Andy W an impromptu sterilisation to give his poor wife a break, but it degenerated into a fight as to who would wield the pair of 2 lb lead weights to do the job.

The group next to us began to abandon their food and drink containers on the floor rather than walk the 20 feet to the bin, nice to see that the pikey element has found it’s way into the diving world. Alan kitted up and got to be my buddy as he was a late arrival. We were on a mission to the pit and gnomes, as there were two more to add to the collection, supplied by Andy W. We carried one each, mine cunningly strapped to my 7L stage. Andrew F and Neale were to stay at 20m due to Neale’s diminishing supply of gas from his twin 7’s, and meet us at the coach, Stanegarth or APC.

Once again the bus stop was crowded so we got in at the edge of the quay. Neale was worried about hitting his legs on a rock as he got in, as Colin had done some weeks previously. It was pointed out to him that as he has short legs that would be unlikely, but he still managed a splash big enough to get his two lads and wife wet. He’ll be on short rations for a while then. When we were all in a shout went up as a diver was pulled in to the step in distress. Once again the shop were in action once someone had popped in to tell them instead of rubbernecking. All was well though so we carried on our dive. We cut across the front of the coach and waved goodbye to Andrew F and Neale as we began our descent into the pit.

Alan’s descent was a lot more controlled this time, and he didn’t look like a glitterball dropping into the abyss as he did on the last night dive we did together. A quick swim along the bottom of the wall and we were off to drop the gnomes in the garden that I had helped put in at Xmas, and was still pleasantly un-vandalised. From there it was back to the cairn, the coach and then the Stanegarth. Alan was somewhat unwilling to do any compass work, which I put down to his overactive feminine side interfering with his ability to navigate, except to clothes shops. We swam off on a bearing of 180 until I realised my mistake. Thinking quickly I turned around to make sure Alan was OK and then changed direction to 120, hoping he wouldn’t notice the radical course change. At about the right point for turning to 150 I saw the barrel in the distance and knew I was back on course. Right, time to check Alan again, he’s still OK, so we change course. Soon we were at the APC and I was feeling all smug. A bearing of 000 with no diversions saw us back at the white van, and from there we went back up the wall for a safety stop and out.

Back at the car, Alan asked how long we had been in. 33 minutes. So why was his computer showing 55 mins, 22m and he had to do 25 minutes of deco at 6m? Thinking he was getting beyond all this modern technology in his old age I take a look at the computer. Now it’s telling him to do 28 minutes at 8.3 metres. I offered to throw it back in but he declined. The battery was changed a couple of weeks ago, so he will be posting it back to Suunto after the weekend.

Unfortunately Alan also asked why we did a bit of a zigzag before we found the APC, so I had to come clean that I took the wrong bearing

A few minutes later Andrew F and Neale emerged, and Emma took great delight in telling Neale that number two son had puked up all over number one son. We decided to stay on our drysuits for the duration. I broke out the Easter cakes I had bought earlier and had to apologise to Andrew F for mocking his ability to get the donuts in when I failed miserably as well. We needed a longer break since we had already hit the pit twice, so I took the chance to scoff a sausage sarnie and molest my Dolphin a bit. TecMe had supplied me with a couple of adaptors so that I could use a normal reg hose on the dosing devices, a must when using a 10L cylinder to stop it being lopsided due to the shorter standard hoses.

The small downside of this plan was the only spare hoses I had were octopus length. This required rolling the hoses around the inhale counterlung. Fiddling and faffing complete we wait a while for the clock to hit three. But where is David? He’s a gorner. I wander off to look for him and find him on the way back from the pub with Marianne. Finally getting everyone together we brave the water once again. I’m a bit light as I have dropped the 4kg in trim weights from the Dolphin, but my cunning plan of taking four 1 kg clip weights to the waters edge paid off, where I placed three of the weights on my various D rings and gave Andrew F the last one.

The descent was fine once I had enough lead strapped on, but as I had left the OPV fully open I had to ask David to close it for me. This stopped the flow of gas, and the operation of the bypass valve. The routing of the hoses meant that the compression of the inhale lung was significantly reducing the loop volume.

After a bit of a settle at 6m we ventured off to the Wessex where David was initiated into the Ancient and Most Odd Society of Worshipful Underwater Seesawers, then as Andrew and Neale were turning blue we had to surface. I made the most of diving gloveless in cold water my creeping up behind Emma and putting my cold hand on her arm, which got me a thoroughly undeserved slap.

All the junk was tidied away and we had a parting of the ways when it came to choice of pub as Emma wanted somewhere for the kids to play. My suggestion of ‘with the pike’ went down like a brick budgie so I was left with Marianne at Stoney, sitting in the sun.

Dive Data:

Dive 1

34.1 m
30 min
vO2 0.82

SI 2h 1m

Dive 2

34.4 m
33 min
vO2 0.83

SI 2h 26m

Dive 3

20.1 m
19 min

*-note to our colonial American cousins; petrol makes a motorbike engine work^, gas lets you breathe under water. Mix the two up and you will die horribly when you dive. Although someone will have to give you a lift to the dive site as you have filled up your car with air, nitrox or trimix.

^-with the exception of the Millennium bike and the Enfield Robin.

**Freef** · 31st May 2007, 21:11

Sunday evening a disturbing phone call from Andy W was received, in which the background sound effects were [hopefully] a tent, or [disturbingly] his fly zip being pulled up and down repeatedly. Fortunately there will be a chaperone-cum-bodyguard-cum-mental nurse for him in the form of Barry. We were hitting Guildy in a simulated sea dive as the vis would be about the same as it is off Weymouth at the moment. The Dolphin is 797’ed, tested and assembled, and after popping to the shop for the requisite number of cakes and donuts I try and sleep, but it is difficult with that zip sound that I heard earlier.

The drive to Guildy is a pain from just about anywhere in the country apart from Wittlesey or March. I have to leave 2 ½ hours travel time, more than for Chepstow, for a just shorter journey. It’s also on the Fens, so things are a bit weird there as well, but that is like being at home on WH for me. I arrived first so that I could set up the Dolphin and waited in the luxurious surroundings of the café for the others to turn up. Andy found me first, and Barry was just pulling in the gates with Kerry, who wasn’t diving.

Barry scuttled off to get his twins filled as Andy compared hose lengths on his wing inflator. As Barry was walking back the chap from the filling station called him back.

“Is this your twinset?”

“Err, yes.”

“It’s out of test.”

“Err, bollocks”.

Barry comes back with an empty twinset and a dejected expression. After some gentle mocking I ask ‘who has got a spare set of kit?’ and was able to be the only one with my hand up. As the saying goes, ‘misery loves company’, so Barry borrowed my 15L, Commando BC and set of regs so he could go in. Although I now feel like I have been assimilated into the 955 collective kit sharing cult, I also won’t be buying a cup of tea for the foreseeable future.

So far Barry had been protective of Kerry, not introducing me to her until I promised to be on my best behaviour [sucker], but the introductions were made and I asked Kerry if she would be so kind as to pass my camera to me in we were in the water. Dropping off the big step isn’t a good idea with a luddite Box Brownie around your neck.

We kitted up, and Andy asked to be passed his drysuit hose. “Where is it?” asks Barry. No, it’s not off the right post Andy. Or the left one either. It’s not been fitted, Andy. It looks like we are in for a bit of a wait, so I stagger the Dolph and 7L stage around to a kitting up bench to await Andy’s kit molesting to prevent him having a squeeze. Of course, it could have been Mrs W’s ploy to stop the family at nine by sending Andy in for a 20m dive with no inflation on his suit.

While Andy arsed about with his kit I took the opportunity to ask Barry if he knew why my torch has a green umbilical-obviously because it runs on unleaded electrons. Once we were all together I led the charge off the top step, which gets you deep enough to kick the computer into dive mode. It’s not quite the thrill of the 10m entry I did in Menorca [in full kit], but it hurts less if you keep your legs open. Barry and Andy followed in quick if untidy order and I collected my camera from Kerry.

The water was stirred up at the entry point, but we were off to the far side and back along the shallows, so it may be a bit clearer there. I had managed to nearly land on a pike on my entry, and it was a fair old size. It glared at me in the ‘I’d have you, but I can’t be bothered right now’ way they do and swam off. We dropped down to the rear of the bus to begin our excursion around the silty puddle, me in the lead and Barry with Andy in more or less formation. The rope to the lorry was followed, and then the rope to what would hopefully be the Provost, although it seemed to be a bit off course. After my navigation of 180-120-back on course at 150 I feel slightly smug in my compassing abilities and the rope angle looks a bit wonkey. Never mind, if we follow it we will find something.

That something was indeed the Provost, and from there it is a case of keeping at 16 or so metres around the silt bank to the wooden boat, which if the vis is about 5m you will see in the distance. Distance in this case being 4.9 metres, but diving in the UK means seeing your hands with your arms at full stretch is known as ‘good vis’. ‘Brilliant vis’ occurs abroad or ‘last week’ according to the skipper of a UK dive boat. On the last bit of the swim we hear the on site boat rumbling around the lake.

Once at the boat we are having a look around when there is a tinny thump. Right, who has dropped a tank or weightbelt? My kit is in about as much order as it ever is as far as I can tell, and Barry, Andy and I all look at each other to see if anyone has lost anything. Barry is pointing to the barrel inside the boat, but it hasn’t moved. We are still confused when Andy writes ‘R-E-squiggle’ on the side of the boat. Recall? OK, up we go with a brief stop at 6m. As we were adjacent to the line I didn’t blob up in case anyone was above-you can’t see in Guildy vis-so we all popped up about as far across the lake as you can get. You know the blue buoy with ‘C’ on it? Yep, that’s where we were. On the surface all is calm as I give an OK to shore, and no one seems to bee returning it or signalling us. The mass panic and ambulance are missing, so it looks like a false alarm, if indeed that was the recall we heard, and groups are getting in the water.

We decide to surface swim back anyway, and on exit we are met by Kerry, which was nice, and an irate staff member who gives us a stuffing for not immediately surfacing and tells us to report to reception for a telling off, which wasn’t nice. Pauline on reception told us that you are not to do any stops on the way up. Admittedly it’s been a long time since I studied the on sire emergency regs, but they used to say ‘do your stop’, and if you are on deco, blob up.

A bit later Ian came over and told us again. He also asked if we heard the recall! ‘Good, it’s nice to know you can hear it on the far side’, he says! I find it most comforting that the recall was tried for effectiveness before they decided to use the system. Barry wandered off to find the emergency instructions. While they weren’t quite in a disused toilet with a ‘Beware Of The Tiger’ sign on the door, they were on the same board as the trips and courses info, perhaps a bit more of a conspicuous place would be better.

The alert was over a diver, supposedly a DiveMaster, who had lost his group. He had surfaced then dropped back in for 10 min looking for them. The rest of the group had surfaced in the mean time and raised the ‘missing diver’ alarm, hence the boat. I imagine he got more ire than the three of us from the staff.

We decide to bitch and whinge for a bit until we have had 45 minutes out and then try again. The same entry plan is agreed, with Barry in the lead. As we walk the plank I turn around and point out to Andy that Barry has not connected the drysuit hose.

“Are you going to tell him?” asks Andy.

“In a minute”

Barry starts his entry; “Barry, drysuit hose” I call as Andy laughs.

Kerry looks concerned as she hands me my camera again. I reassure her that I will look after Barry, and she looks relieved. After all he is wearing my kit. When I tell her this, she goes back to concerned.

We quickly dispose of the ropes to the Provost, and once there I find another rope. We might as well follow this one then. It turns out to be the rope to the wooden boat we were at earlier. A lack of thunderflash let us carry on to the coach, and then we bumbled our way to the boat on a trailer that is at the end of another rope. Barry was starting to get a bit chilled at this point, although it was more likely to be the cold hand of dread that everyone gets when they dive with me rather than the cold of the water.

We have a slow swim back through the sunken trees, looking for pike and small life that I have identified as small red blobs with legs, a thing with legs [brown] and a snot monster. The pike are missing, as is all the small life. The entertainment was provided by Andy who ran through the gamut of swimming styles apart from back stroke. Apparently he always dives like this and it’s nothing unusual for him.

We pass the training platform with one eye upwards for descending weightbelts, with or without a diver wearing them. We pass the other platforms to the exit point and I blob up from 4m as is required for all rebreather divers, when Barry starts to breakdance. Hold on Barry, let me pop this up, right what do you want. A big pike? OK, look after the blob and I’ll have a look. Pictures were taken and we ascended after the pike has buggered off.

A mad dash to the cars and lunch emerged. Barry quickly scoffed a whole bag of Haribo while the rest of us were on the sarnies and donuts. I started drinking a large amount of cranberry juice, causing Kerry to ask if I had cystitis. I told her that there was another condition you could get from too much cranberry juice-at over a quid a litre, bankruptcy. After thinking long and hard about a third dive, or heading off early with Kerry, Barry decided on the latter. I said he could have a dive and I would keep Kerry company, but I still couldn’t convince him for some reason. Andy and I decided to head to the Skyvan for the last dive.

Once again the big step was used, and we dropped once more into the gloom. The Skyvan was easily located at 15m, and it was full of baby perch, which we had a look at and then swam over, disturbing them. As we exited I switched to the stage for a bit of deco simulation. On the way back I saw the ‘Graboid’ tree again and after I demonstrated my backstroke technique to Andy we exited at the training steps.

Barry had neatly stacked my kit…but what’s this, the dustcap is off. Barry is not a diver, he is a very naughty boy.

Andy and I went for a hot drink before heading off home, once again sinking into the luxurious deep upholstery of the chairs you find in the on site café.

Dive Data:

Dive 1

18.0 m
19 min

SI 0h 59min

Dive 2

18.3 m
38 min

SI 1h 29min

Dive 3

15.9 m

25 min

31st May 2007, 21:04	#1 (permalink)
Freef Custom Title Disallowed! Current Rebreather/s: Dolphin Other Rebreather/s: Dolphin Join Date: Jan 2006 Location: Land of the Freef, UK. Posts: 1,427	2007 to end of May. You'll be glad to know this is the last of the long set of reports. From May on I'll post them individually. __________________ David. Diving the mahogany rebreather.
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31st May 2007, 21:09	#2 (permalink)
Freef Custom Title Disallowed! Current Rebreather/s: Dolphin Other Rebreather/s: Dolphin Join Date: Jan 2006 Location: Land of the Freef, UK. Posts: 1,427	6th April “I proved my manliness by navigating to the APC. Now it’s your turn”. Arrangements were made to hit Stoney again to have a plinkle around on the Bank Holiday for Easter, some of 955 were heading up there mid morning, but Andrew F and I decided to go up for sparrow fart to get one in before Andy W and Alan [aka Stephanie] arrived. I would rather have been at the coast, but on the Saturday I was to lead an Easter Egg run for a motorbike club. Now, as the weather was nice I was looking forwards to a lie in but Andrew F thought that the lake would be busy. A text the Thursday revealed Neale was also coming out to play and they would text me when they left Northampton. I was up early and loading the car when the text came. I was so overwhelmed with joy that I managed to lift a kit box a bit early and broke the number plate on one of my bikes. Great, but at least that will draw attention away from the bloody great lump of missing paint from the side of the tank [that’s petrol, not gas] where I dropped my framed IAM Observer certificate on it the other day. Setting off in a bad mood I enjoyed the sunrise and found the 0630 queue to be rather long-this is two hours before the gates opened. Andrew and Neale were nowhere near the front of the queue. I have an excuse or three for being in a lake-I am busy tomorrow, I’m trying out some rebreather mods and I’m allergic to seaweed, boats and salt. Just as I start to do the site prep on the Dolphin the staff begin to arrive and we are shunted into the top car park, meaning I have to do a frantic repack of the car. Settling in for another hour and a half means plenty of time to rig the rebreather and do all the checks while there is time. The open circuiteers find another way to occupy their time… Sneaking around with a camera isn’t mentioned in “How to win friends an influence people”, but the voices in my head keep me company and the Rice Krispies tell me what to do. Marianne was a few cars behind me, and told me a tale of woe that has earned her the nickname ‘Boomer’. It was a salutary tale of the reasons to NOT undo the isolator knob for a bit of a lube when there is pressure in the twinset you are working on. Also lurking in the background was David, who I am off to Scapa with next year. After being relieved of a tenner, and listening to Neale complaining about being charged full whack just because his membership expired [five months previously] we were graciously allowed in to the bottom car park. Neale had nabbed a prime parking place and I managed to get in next to it. Some bloke pulled in next to me and promptly unloaded all his kit to the back of my car. We were ready and willing to get in when Marianne and David asked for a guided tour of the pit, and then to the gnomes. I pottered off to the bus stop to drop off my camera and stage before returning to find Andrew and Neale filling in the log sheet for the dive. Andrew was asking for gas in. “FivelitreoffortytwohundredbarfortheDolphthreeofai rattwothreetwoforbailoutandasevenofthirty fourpointfouratonefiftyasastageandsuitgas” “What?” “Five-litre-of-forty-two-hundred-bar-for-the-Dolph,-three-of-air-at-two-three-two-for-bailout-and-a-seven-of-thirty-four-point-four-at-one-fifty-as-a-stage-and-suit-gas” “What???? You need a sheet all to yourself when you are on that bloody rebreather…now what have you got in your five again?” After the checks were done, the arcane rules of BSAC made for a debate. As I’m not a member of 955 or BSAC they were a bit amusing. “So, if Andrew dives with you, that’s a branch dive?” “Yes” replies Neale. “If I dive with Andrew, that’s not a branch dive?” “No”. “What if Andrew dives with someone from a different club?” “Look, I have to give a couple of marshall sheets to the others” and off he goes. Heading back to the bus stop it is fully occupied, so I head to the step in near it and drop in. I grabbed my 7L from the bus stop and connect it up as some muppet starts hopping around near my camera trying to put his fins on. Easter is usually the start of the British dive season for those that don’t carry on through the winter. This could be seen from the amount of surface freeflows that were bubbling away as people got in to blow the cobwebs out. Once we were all in I led the way to the 12m point where you can drop onto the blockhouse, snapping away as we went. With the water being a bit milky, I think that I will try to blame any dodgy pics on a grainy film rather than any photographic ineptitude on my part. Once at the coach we head to the cairn and into the pit, which is a bit clearer than the 20m level. After a bit of a swim around we go to the gnomes before heading back to the road from 20m to the 6m ledge. I waved Andrew and Neale past so I could show Marianne and David the sleepers to follow on their second pit dive. I should have been a bit clearer in my signalling though as they carried on going. David got his camera out andstarted snapping away as some other divers stirred up the bottom on the way down the road. I tried to keep both pairs in sight, but the diminishing vis meant I had to take a choice, and that was to follow Andrew and Neale, if only for the amusement factor involved in what they were going to get up to next. I noticed that Neale was bubbling from his crack bottle inflated cylinder and stopped him to let him see the bubbles, resisting the urge to send it up attached to one of his D rings. At the 30 min point Neale and Andrew scrambled up onto the step and I dragged myself up one of the ladders. Andy W and Alan [Steph] had arrived and came down to say hello in their uniquely abusing way. Andy W was so in awe of my diving he carried my fins back for me, and I didn’t even have to call him kit bitch. . I tried hiding from Alan for a bit until I could assess his mood, but he didn’t appear to want to kill me that much. Andy W then decided to tell us all he had a cold, so we told him to stand the other side of the car park. After Neale’s wife Emma showed up we tried to give Andy W an impromptu sterilisation to give his poor wife a break, but it degenerated into a fight as to who would wield the pair of 2 lb lead weights to do the job. The group next to us began to abandon their food and drink containers on the floor rather than walk the 20 feet to the bin, nice to see that the pikey element has found it’s way into the diving world. Alan kitted up and got to be my buddy as he was a late arrival. We were on a mission to the pit and gnomes, as there were two more to add to the collection, supplied by Andy W. We carried one each, mine cunningly strapped to my 7L stage. Andrew F and Neale were to stay at 20m due to Neale’s diminishing supply of gas from his twin 7’s, and meet us at the coach, Stanegarth or APC. Once again the bus stop was crowded so we got in at the edge of the quay. Neale was worried about hitting his legs on a rock as he got in, as Colin had done some weeks previously. It was pointed out to him that as he has short legs that would be unlikely, but he still managed a splash big enough to get his two lads and wife wet. He’ll be on short rations for a while then. When we were all in a shout went up as a diver was pulled in to the step in distress. Once again the shop were in action once someone had popped in to tell them instead of rubbernecking. All was well though so we carried on our dive. We cut across the front of the coach and waved goodbye to Andrew F and Neale as we began our descent into the pit. Alan’s descent was a lot more controlled this time, and he didn’t look like a glitterball dropping into the abyss as he did on the last night dive we did together. A quick swim along the bottom of the wall and we were off to drop the gnomes in the garden that I had helped put in at Xmas, and was still pleasantly un-vandalised. From there it was back to the cairn, the coach and then the Stanegarth. Alan was somewhat unwilling to do any compass work, which I put down to his overactive feminine side interfering with his ability to navigate, except to clothes shops. We swam off on a bearing of 180 until I realised my mistake. Thinking quickly I turned around to make sure Alan was OK and then changed direction to 120, hoping he wouldn’t notice the radical course change. At about the right point for turning to 150 I saw the barrel in the distance and knew I was back on course. Right, time to check Alan again, he’s still OK, so we change course. Soon we were at the APC and I was feeling all smug. A bearing of 000 with no diversions saw us back at the white van, and from there we went back up the wall for a safety stop and out. Back at the car, Alan asked how long we had been in. 33 minutes. So why was his computer showing 55 mins, 22m and he had to do 25 minutes of deco at 6m? Thinking he was getting beyond all this modern technology in his old age I take a look at the computer. Now it’s telling him to do 28 minutes at 8.3 metres. I offered to throw it back in but he declined. The battery was changed a couple of weeks ago, so he will be posting it back to Suunto after the weekend. Unfortunately Alan also asked why we did a bit of a zigzag before we found the APC, so I had to come clean that I took the wrong bearing A few minutes later Andrew F and Neale emerged, and Emma took great delight in telling Neale that number two son had puked up all over number one son. We decided to stay on our drysuits for the duration. I broke out the Easter cakes I had bought earlier and had to apologise to Andrew F for mocking his ability to get the donuts in when I failed miserably as well. We needed a longer break since we had already hit the pit twice, so I took the chance to scoff a sausage sarnie and molest my Dolphin a bit. TecMe had supplied me with a couple of adaptors so that I could use a normal reg hose on the dosing devices, a must when using a 10L cylinder to stop it being lopsided due to the shorter standard hoses. The small downside of this plan was the only spare hoses I had were octopus length. This required rolling the hoses around the inhale counterlung. Fiddling and faffing complete we wait a while for the clock to hit three. But where is David? He’s a gorner. I wander off to look for him and find him on the way back from the pub with Marianne. Finally getting everyone together we brave the water once again. I’m a bit light as I have dropped the 4kg in trim weights from the Dolphin, but my cunning plan of taking four 1 kg clip weights to the waters edge paid off, where I placed three of the weights on my various D rings and gave Andrew F the last one. The descent was fine once I had enough lead strapped on, but as I had left the OPV fully open I had to ask David to close it for me. This stopped the flow of gas, and the operation of the bypass valve. The routing of the hoses meant that the compression of the inhale lung was significantly reducing the loop volume. After a bit of a settle at 6m we ventured off to the Wessex where David was initiated into the Ancient and Most Odd Society of Worshipful Underwater Seesawers, then as Andrew and Neale were turning blue we had to surface. I made the most of diving gloveless in cold water my creeping up behind Emma and putting my cold hand on her arm, which got me a thoroughly undeserved slap. All the junk was tidied away and we had a parting of the ways when it came to choice of pub as Emma wanted somewhere for the kids to play. My suggestion of ‘with the pike’ went down like a brick budgie so I was left with Marianne at Stoney, sitting in the sun. Dive Data: Dive 1 34.1 m 30 min vO2 0.82 SI 2h 1m Dive 2 34.4 m 33 min vO2 0.83 SI 2h 26m Dive 3 20.1 m 19 min -note to our colonial American cousins; petrol makes a motorbike engine work^, gas lets you breathe under water. Mix the two up and you will die horribly when you dive. Although someone will have to give you a lift to the dive site as you have filled up your car with air, nitrox or trimix. ^-with the exception of the Millennium bike and the Enfield Robin. __________________ David. Diving the mahogany rebreather.
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31st May 2007, 21:11	#3 (permalink)
Freef Custom Title Disallowed! Current Rebreather/s: Dolphin Other Rebreather/s: Dolphin Join Date: Jan 2006 Location: Land of the Freef, UK. Posts: 1,427	9th April “So you’re the three who refused to surface?” Sunday evening a disturbing phone call from Andy W was received, in which the background sound effects were [hopefully] a tent, or [disturbingly] his fly zip being pulled up and down repeatedly. Fortunately there will be a chaperone-cum-bodyguard-cum-mental nurse for him in the form of Barry. We were hitting Guildy in a simulated sea dive as the vis would be about the same as it is off Weymouth at the moment. The Dolphin is 797’ed, tested and assembled, and after popping to the shop for the requisite number of cakes and donuts I try and sleep, but it is difficult with that zip sound that I heard earlier. The drive to Guildy is a pain from just about anywhere in the country apart from Wittlesey or March. I have to leave 2 ½ hours travel time, more than for Chepstow, for a just shorter journey. It’s also on the Fens, so things are a bit weird there as well, but that is like being at home on WH for me. I arrived first so that I could set up the Dolphin and waited in the luxurious surroundings of the café for the others to turn up. Andy found me first, and Barry was just pulling in the gates with Kerry, who wasn’t diving. Barry scuttled off to get his twins filled as Andy compared hose lengths on his wing inflator. As Barry was walking back the chap from the filling station called him back. “Is this your twinset?” “Err, yes.” “It’s out of test.” “Err, bollocks”. Barry comes back with an empty twinset and a dejected expression. After some gentle mocking I ask ‘who has got a spare set of kit?’ and was able to be the only one with my hand up. As the saying goes, ‘misery loves company’, so Barry borrowed my 15L, Commando BC and set of regs so he could go in. Although I now feel like I have been assimilated into the 955 collective kit sharing cult, I also won’t be buying a cup of tea for the foreseeable future. So far Barry had been protective of Kerry, not introducing me to her until I promised to be on my best behaviour [sucker], but the introductions were made and I asked Kerry if she would be so kind as to pass my camera to me in we were in the water. Dropping off the big step isn’t a good idea with a luddite Box Brownie around your neck. We kitted up, and Andy asked to be passed his drysuit hose. “Where is it?” asks Barry. No, it’s not off the right post Andy. Or the left one either. It’s not been fitted, Andy. It looks like we are in for a bit of a wait, so I stagger the Dolph and 7L stage around to a kitting up bench to await Andy’s kit molesting to prevent him having a squeeze. Of course, it could have been Mrs W’s ploy to stop the family at nine by sending Andy in for a 20m dive with no inflation on his suit. While Andy arsed about with his kit I took the opportunity to ask Barry if he knew why my torch has a green umbilical-obviously because it runs on unleaded electrons. Once we were all together I led the charge off the top step, which gets you deep enough to kick the computer into dive mode. It’s not quite the thrill of the 10m entry I did in Menorca [in full kit], but it hurts less if you keep your legs open. Barry and Andy followed in quick if untidy order and I collected my camera from Kerry. The water was stirred up at the entry point, but we were off to the far side and back along the shallows, so it may be a bit clearer there. I had managed to nearly land on a pike on my entry, and it was a fair old size. It glared at me in the ‘I’d have you, but I can’t be bothered right now’ way they do and swam off. We dropped down to the rear of the bus to begin our excursion around the silty puddle, me in the lead and Barry with Andy in more or less formation. The rope to the lorry was followed, and then the rope to what would hopefully be the Provost, although it seemed to be a bit off course. After my navigation of 180-120-back on course at 150 I feel slightly smug in my compassing abilities and the rope angle looks a bit wonkey. Never mind, if we follow it we will find something. That something was indeed the Provost, and from there it is a case of keeping at 16 or so metres around the silt bank to the wooden boat, which if the vis is about 5m you will see in the distance. Distance in this case being 4.9 metres, but diving in the UK means seeing your hands with your arms at full stretch is known as ‘good vis’. ‘Brilliant vis’ occurs abroad or ‘last week’ according to the skipper of a UK dive boat. On the last bit of the swim we hear the on site boat rumbling around the lake. Once at the boat we are having a look around when there is a tinny thump. Right, who has dropped a tank or weightbelt? My kit is in about as much order as it ever is as far as I can tell, and Barry, Andy and I all look at each other to see if anyone has lost anything. Barry is pointing to the barrel inside the boat, but it hasn’t moved. We are still confused when Andy writes ‘R-E-squiggle’ on the side of the boat. Recall? OK, up we go with a brief stop at 6m. As we were adjacent to the line I didn’t blob up in case anyone was above-you can’t see in Guildy vis-so we all popped up about as far across the lake as you can get. You know the blue buoy with ‘C’ on it? Yep, that’s where we were. On the surface all is calm as I give an OK to shore, and no one seems to bee returning it or signalling us. The mass panic and ambulance are missing, so it looks like a false alarm, if indeed that was the recall we heard, and groups are getting in the water. We decide to surface swim back anyway, and on exit we are met by Kerry, which was nice, and an irate staff member who gives us a stuffing for not immediately surfacing and tells us to report to reception for a telling off, which wasn’t nice. Pauline on reception told us that you are not to do any stops on the way up. Admittedly it’s been a long time since I studied the on sire emergency regs, but they used to say ‘do your stop’, and if you are on deco, blob up. A bit later Ian came over and told us again. He also asked if we heard the recall! ‘Good, it’s nice to know you can hear it on the far side’, he says! I find it most comforting that the recall was tried for effectiveness before they decided to use the system. Barry wandered off to find the emergency instructions. While they weren’t quite in a disused toilet with a ‘Beware Of The Tiger’ sign on the door, they were on the same board as the trips and courses info, perhaps a bit more of a conspicuous place would be better. The alert was over a diver, supposedly a DiveMaster, who had lost his group. He had surfaced then dropped back in for 10 min looking for them. The rest of the group had surfaced in the mean time and raised the ‘missing diver’ alarm, hence the boat. I imagine he got more ire than the three of us from the staff. We decide to bitch and whinge for a bit until we have had 45 minutes out and then try again. The same entry plan is agreed, with Barry in the lead. As we walk the plank I turn around and point out to Andy that Barry has not connected the drysuit hose. “Are you going to tell him?” asks Andy. “In a minute” Barry starts his entry; “Barry, drysuit hose” I call as Andy laughs. Kerry looks concerned as she hands me my camera again. I reassure her that I will look after Barry, and she looks relieved. After all he is wearing my kit. When I tell her this, she goes back to concerned. We quickly dispose of the ropes to the Provost, and once there I find another rope. We might as well follow this one then. It turns out to be the rope to the wooden boat we were at earlier. A lack of thunderflash let us carry on to the coach, and then we bumbled our way to the boat on a trailer that is at the end of another rope. Barry was starting to get a bit chilled at this point, although it was more likely to be the cold hand of dread that everyone gets when they dive with me rather than the cold of the water. We have a slow swim back through the sunken trees, looking for pike and small life that I have identified as small red blobs with legs, a thing with legs [brown] and a snot monster. The pike are missing, as is all the small life. The entertainment was provided by Andy who ran through the gamut of swimming styles apart from back stroke. Apparently he always dives like this and it’s nothing unusual for him. We pass the training platform with one eye upwards for descending weightbelts, with or without a diver wearing them. We pass the other platforms to the exit point and I blob up from 4m as is required for all rebreather divers, when Barry starts to breakdance. Hold on Barry, let me pop this up, right what do you want. A big pike? OK, look after the blob and I’ll have a look. Pictures were taken and we ascended after the pike has buggered off. A mad dash to the cars and lunch emerged. Barry quickly scoffed a whole bag of Haribo while the rest of us were on the sarnies and donuts. I started drinking a large amount of cranberry juice, causing Kerry to ask if I had cystitis. I told her that there was another condition you could get from too much cranberry juice-at over a quid a litre, bankruptcy. After thinking long and hard about a third dive, or heading off early with Kerry, Barry decided on the latter. I said he could have a dive and I would keep Kerry company, but I still couldn’t convince him for some reason. Andy and I decided to head to the Skyvan for the last dive. Once again the big step was used, and we dropped once more into the gloom. The Skyvan was easily located at 15m, and it was full of baby perch, which we had a look at and then swam over, disturbing them. As we exited I switched to the stage for a bit of deco simulation. On the way back I saw the ‘Graboid’ tree again and after I demonstrated my backstroke technique to Andy we exited at the training steps. Barry had neatly stacked my kit…but what’s this, the dustcap is off. Barry is not a diver, he is a very naughty boy. Andy and I went for a hot drink before heading off home, once again sinking into the luxurious deep upholstery of the chairs you find in the on site café. Dive Data: Dive 1 18.0 m 19 min SI 0h 59min Dive 2 18.3 m 38 min SI 1h 29min Dive 3 15.9 m 25 min __________________ David. Diving the mahogany rebreather.
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