Gord
16-02-07, 12:00
I woke up this morning feeling like I’d fallen down a flight of stairs …
Not sure exactly what it was about last night’s dive at the Caves that wiped me out, but I suspect a combination of the cold (6º in the water) and the exit and entry through the pipe which was gushing with a torrent of run-off from the hills greater than I have ever seen at this site.
Or maybe it was all the twisting and turning we had to do to keep track of Beryl as she (he?) burled around us at lightning speed for the last 20 minutes of the dive.
It was an eventful evening, which started ominously with heavy rain and strong wind across the Erskine Bridge. As darkness settled, I got pulled over by a police car just south of Balloch – my tail-lights were out – and they wanted me to do something about it. I called Charlie, potentially to call the dive, but he sounded so unhappy at the prospect that I agreed to go on – so long as he tried to find me some tail lights on his way through from Stirling.
Forty-five minutes later we met up in a lay-by just past Luss. By this time the rain was lashing down and the wind was blowing a gale. Charlie had successfully acquired the bulbs, but when I fitted them they still didn’t work. Examination and experimentation with the fuse box indicated that it wasn’t a fuse problem. Must be the wiring.
So we drove the rest of the way up to Arrocher with my fog light on.
On reaching the lay-by at the dive site, we found it awash with run-off water from the hills. The rain was still very heavy, and I think mixed in with sleet, and there was virtually a river coursing across the road and tumbling into the culvert on the other side. Looking over the bridge I could see that the wind had whipped up quite a choppy surface condition. The torrent of water entering the pipe from the hillside was quite something to see: a raging white burn, about 20cm deep.
We kitted up quickly in the rain, buddy checked, and made our stumbling way down through the pipe. I was pleased to see the welcome sight of the concrete blocks put there recently to help divers, and felt a moment of gratitude to their architect (do we know who this is?).
The water was deep, muddy brown with washed out hillside mud, and not at all attractive for getting into. Let’s say, it wasn’t exactly the Red Sea …
I also noticed a new tree which must have been blown over in the recent storms and was mostly sitting in the water about 30m south of the entry point.
We had agreed that Charlie would lead the dive, and as I followed him down the slope, the visibility went from zero, to …zero … to 1m … and then suddenly around 10m we dropped out of the silt into much better water: warmer, with viz up to around 5 or 6m. Typical Caves.
For the first half hour we did the standard dive, cruising slowly past the impressive large boulders, strewn with plumrose anemones and dead men’s fingers. We saw wrasse, saithe and a few smaller blennies and so on. No congers though.
The Caves is an amazing, thrilling, mysterious and sometimes challenging dive. It’s so big that it often feels different from the time before, and the visibility is very variable. There are several hazards, such as the sustained depth for the first 20-25mins, which can catch a novice diver unaware and leave him with 50 bar when he would normally expect to have 150. There is fishing line, sometimes hanging in mid-water, and you need to watch out for it. And there is the challenge of entry and exit on the precipitous rocky shore. Altogether a more serious dive than either Finnart or Conger. But so rewarding.
As we approached the 25 minute point and were about to turn round and start to head back, my eye was caught by a flash of silver just beyond my buddy. He had seen it too and we signalled excitement to each other with torches and big OK signals: Beryl the Seal had joined the dive! For the next 5 minutes I strained my eyes in vain to catch another glimpse but found nothing. I started to feel disappointed. Was that it? … hardly the Farne islands …
At about the 30 minute mark, at a depth of around 18m, Charlie signalled to me that he wanted to switch his torch off, as we had agreed we would, to check for phosphorescence. We settled down on a broad, reddish slab of sandstone, switched torches off and waited for our eyes to accustom to the gloom. I swished my hand through the water but couldn’t see any luminescent life, just blackness. After about a minute, I felt a heavy bump on the back of my tank which pushed me gently forward. I had been resting on my knees and I fell forward towards the rock. Then another series of bumps at the back of my kit and a weight settled for a moment on the back of my legs. Charlie, I thought, must have gone a bit buoyant and had floated over the top of me. Silly bugger seemed to be tumbling across the top of me. I switched my torch back on and was startled to see Charlie resting exactly where he had been – about 2 metres in front of me!!
I twisted round rapidly and shone my torch into the gloom behind me, just in time to see another flash of dappled silver grey looping down into the depths. Beryl had approached us in the dark and had playfully been bumping me, maybe to investigate this mysterious noisy stranger in her realm, maybe just to muck around!
Charlie switched his torch on and signalled with it that I should look up. She was back again, this time coasting above us, and much closer this time!
For the rest of the dive, Beryl got closer and closer. She swam in between, around, above, and below us! Several times coming in really close, moving slowly, staring at us. She is absolutely massive. I’ve dived with grey seals in the Farnes, and can confirm that Beryl is a very big specimen. I also find it unusual that she is solitary. As far as I know, these animals live in colonies, so what is she / he doing here alone? Is she lost? Is he a young lone male who will return to the colony at some point on down the line?
This final part of the dive flew by, although the water was freezing cold. As we approached the shallows, I looked up from 6m and saw the fallen tree right above me! Watch out for this as it could be a serious tangle hazard.
We exited right by the pipeline and, I confess, I really struggled to drag myself out of the water and up the rocks. Shattered but happy.
The rain had stopped, and we changed quickly, and headed for the Inverbeg for a beer and a look at Charlie’s fantastic video footage of our friendly new piniped buddy. Hopefully available soon on Youtube!!!
Beryl is a beautiful addition to a dive site which I still consider to be world-class, stunning, and adventurous. As I crept back down the road to Glasgow (with my fog light on), I was left asking myself why it had been so long since I last dived the Caves!
Not sure exactly what it was about last night’s dive at the Caves that wiped me out, but I suspect a combination of the cold (6º in the water) and the exit and entry through the pipe which was gushing with a torrent of run-off from the hills greater than I have ever seen at this site.
Or maybe it was all the twisting and turning we had to do to keep track of Beryl as she (he?) burled around us at lightning speed for the last 20 minutes of the dive.
It was an eventful evening, which started ominously with heavy rain and strong wind across the Erskine Bridge. As darkness settled, I got pulled over by a police car just south of Balloch – my tail-lights were out – and they wanted me to do something about it. I called Charlie, potentially to call the dive, but he sounded so unhappy at the prospect that I agreed to go on – so long as he tried to find me some tail lights on his way through from Stirling.
Forty-five minutes later we met up in a lay-by just past Luss. By this time the rain was lashing down and the wind was blowing a gale. Charlie had successfully acquired the bulbs, but when I fitted them they still didn’t work. Examination and experimentation with the fuse box indicated that it wasn’t a fuse problem. Must be the wiring.
So we drove the rest of the way up to Arrocher with my fog light on.
On reaching the lay-by at the dive site, we found it awash with run-off water from the hills. The rain was still very heavy, and I think mixed in with sleet, and there was virtually a river coursing across the road and tumbling into the culvert on the other side. Looking over the bridge I could see that the wind had whipped up quite a choppy surface condition. The torrent of water entering the pipe from the hillside was quite something to see: a raging white burn, about 20cm deep.
We kitted up quickly in the rain, buddy checked, and made our stumbling way down through the pipe. I was pleased to see the welcome sight of the concrete blocks put there recently to help divers, and felt a moment of gratitude to their architect (do we know who this is?).
The water was deep, muddy brown with washed out hillside mud, and not at all attractive for getting into. Let’s say, it wasn’t exactly the Red Sea …
I also noticed a new tree which must have been blown over in the recent storms and was mostly sitting in the water about 30m south of the entry point.
We had agreed that Charlie would lead the dive, and as I followed him down the slope, the visibility went from zero, to …zero … to 1m … and then suddenly around 10m we dropped out of the silt into much better water: warmer, with viz up to around 5 or 6m. Typical Caves.
For the first half hour we did the standard dive, cruising slowly past the impressive large boulders, strewn with plumrose anemones and dead men’s fingers. We saw wrasse, saithe and a few smaller blennies and so on. No congers though.
The Caves is an amazing, thrilling, mysterious and sometimes challenging dive. It’s so big that it often feels different from the time before, and the visibility is very variable. There are several hazards, such as the sustained depth for the first 20-25mins, which can catch a novice diver unaware and leave him with 50 bar when he would normally expect to have 150. There is fishing line, sometimes hanging in mid-water, and you need to watch out for it. And there is the challenge of entry and exit on the precipitous rocky shore. Altogether a more serious dive than either Finnart or Conger. But so rewarding.
As we approached the 25 minute point and were about to turn round and start to head back, my eye was caught by a flash of silver just beyond my buddy. He had seen it too and we signalled excitement to each other with torches and big OK signals: Beryl the Seal had joined the dive! For the next 5 minutes I strained my eyes in vain to catch another glimpse but found nothing. I started to feel disappointed. Was that it? … hardly the Farne islands …
At about the 30 minute mark, at a depth of around 18m, Charlie signalled to me that he wanted to switch his torch off, as we had agreed we would, to check for phosphorescence. We settled down on a broad, reddish slab of sandstone, switched torches off and waited for our eyes to accustom to the gloom. I swished my hand through the water but couldn’t see any luminescent life, just blackness. After about a minute, I felt a heavy bump on the back of my tank which pushed me gently forward. I had been resting on my knees and I fell forward towards the rock. Then another series of bumps at the back of my kit and a weight settled for a moment on the back of my legs. Charlie, I thought, must have gone a bit buoyant and had floated over the top of me. Silly bugger seemed to be tumbling across the top of me. I switched my torch back on and was startled to see Charlie resting exactly where he had been – about 2 metres in front of me!!
I twisted round rapidly and shone my torch into the gloom behind me, just in time to see another flash of dappled silver grey looping down into the depths. Beryl had approached us in the dark and had playfully been bumping me, maybe to investigate this mysterious noisy stranger in her realm, maybe just to muck around!
Charlie switched his torch on and signalled with it that I should look up. She was back again, this time coasting above us, and much closer this time!
For the rest of the dive, Beryl got closer and closer. She swam in between, around, above, and below us! Several times coming in really close, moving slowly, staring at us. She is absolutely massive. I’ve dived with grey seals in the Farnes, and can confirm that Beryl is a very big specimen. I also find it unusual that she is solitary. As far as I know, these animals live in colonies, so what is she / he doing here alone? Is she lost? Is he a young lone male who will return to the colony at some point on down the line?
This final part of the dive flew by, although the water was freezing cold. As we approached the shallows, I looked up from 6m and saw the fallen tree right above me! Watch out for this as it could be a serious tangle hazard.
We exited right by the pipeline and, I confess, I really struggled to drag myself out of the water and up the rocks. Shattered but happy.
The rain had stopped, and we changed quickly, and headed for the Inverbeg for a beer and a look at Charlie’s fantastic video footage of our friendly new piniped buddy. Hopefully available soon on Youtube!!!
Beryl is a beautiful addition to a dive site which I still consider to be world-class, stunning, and adventurous. As I crept back down the road to Glasgow (with my fog light on), I was left asking myself why it had been so long since I last dived the Caves!