The Stoney Virgin Joins The 141'ers At Sunny Weymouth
Having survived two dives with Jim in the darkness of Stoney Cove, the Stoney Virgin had decided to venture into the sea by joining the 141'ers for a weekend's hard-boat diving from Divetime on 26 and 27 July. For this new venture the reigns of the Virgin had been passed from Jim to our newly qualified DL, Stuart. Not only did the party include the Stoney Virgin but old faces from the past in Gary (and his batman John) and Godfrey “The” Priest from Bath SAC.
The 141'ers arrived to find Weymouth bathed in warm sunshine and a sea so calm that you could see your face in it. Great for diving but the girls couldn't stop looking at the water. After a lively Friday night's banter in the Shi' Inn, the 141'ers were up bright and not so breezy to board Divetime for Saturday's dive on the wreck of the Ethel. Lying East of the Bill (no wonder the boat felt crowded with Bill and Ethel now in the mix) it took less than an hour to reach the wreck site. Soon our boat bitch Ron (79 years young) was helping the skipper get the shot in place and we were ready to rumble. Alan, our DO, was briefing the 141'ers as Ron arrived with the coffee and without even trying we had a Beachboys' song – DO-Ron-Ron-Ron-DO-Ron-Ron.. Reaching the wreck at ~35m , the visibility was around 10m and myself, Lynda and Godfrey enjoyed an hour's tour of the stern; the current was running by the time we left the bottom and the separated bow section had to wait for another day. All returned safely without incident, 15 litres had been sucked down (some quicker than others), debriefs were soon ongoing and undersuits were soon hanging over the side. The Stoney Virgin had survived his first British hardboat dive – now what was that thing about partial pressures at 35m, how much does 1 lite of air expand in a SMB rising from 35m to the surface, how many litres a minute does a diver breathe from leaving the surface to reaching the wreck if he breathes 16L a minute on the surface ….so many things to think about.
During the surface interval we moved to Chesil Bay where the girls soaked up the rays, Jim took a refreshing swim, Margo was reading a tyre repair manual (taking no chances this time) and John was eating Gary’s biscuits (note the plural). Ron was soon serving pepper soup with the well recognised Divetime cheese and ham rolls. Meanwhile we all wondered why skipper Paul was only eating a salad; apparently a woman called Angela had told him a few weeks earlier that she never ate her own sandwiches. Before long we were planning to dive the James Fennel but a strange blanket of fog was creeping in over Chesil. Soon the 141’ers were plunging down the shot to the 20m seabed below. Lynda was trying her new side cylinder; bought for her by her caring husband (as detailed in last month’s Stoney Virgin publication), but good intention had failed as her mood blackened on the seabed below. Meanwhile Jim was battling with the SMB as it wrapped itself around the shot – as you can imagine this was not one of my favourite dives. Surfacing downstream, the rest of the gang had fared better, enjoying the dive. “Told you to wait longer to put your bag up” said Godfrey as he came aboard. Jim nodded saying he was just thinking of Lynda.
After a night on the town we returned the next day to dive the Anworth. Godfrey had gone home and Phil had just arrived from Portsmouth. Didn’t know why he had been in Portsmouth he said that his wife had told him to go there. We were soon underway, once again the sea like a mirror, and we reflected on the dive ahead. Phil and Allan dressed in matching yellow suits looked like a pair of bananas while Jim and Lynda in yellow boxes looked like a pair of lemons- nothing new there. John and Gary were in first to reach this small but interesting wreck on the 37m seabed. Margo was with one banana, the other had formed a bunch with Lorna, the DO and Tracy. Stuart’s teaching skills were paying dividends as the Stoney Virgin glided past muttering something about narcosis and 3 bars of nitrogen at 30m. Congers, crabs, lobsters and an assortment of fish festooned this small cement carrying wreck providing an ideal if somewhat busy dive. Another successful dive joined the logs of the 141’ers and smiles replaced the earlier frowns as we headed for the scallop beds. Sandwiches and soup were once again devoured to the background of F1 racing coming from the telly. Soon we were hurtling over the scallop beds at 20m with lifting bags popping to the surface with the fruits of our labours. Lorna and Tracy were last aboard and the lift was raised to complete a very enjoyable weekend. The Stoney Virgin had certainly become less virginal – now what was that he said about the force the muscle of a scallop shell can exert ?
