Castaways Sub-Aqua Club
	A Branch (Branch No 2071) of The British Sub-Aqua Club

The Magnificent Salcombe Seven

Salcombe

17-19 May 1997

Friday night - Anthony, Will and Kev are sat in a traffic jam on the M25 heading for sunny Devon, Neal is happily passing his cold on to Claire, Suzanne and Jake in Somerset - things can only get better! Well actually they get worse first, but that’s only because at 10:59pm the caravan park reception inform us that "the bar is still open", but omit to mention that closing time is 11:00pm!

A sunny Saturday morning dawns. After various scenic trips around Salcombe to find the quay, and a slightly worrying wait for the boat, (I’m sure he said 10:30am. Yes, it is this quay. YES, it is today and not next weekend!), six divers and one flu virus vector embark onto the Nirvana, which according to the skipper means "one step to heaven" - I just hope its not the one over the side!

Goodbye Salcombe!

First stop the Maine, one of the best wrecks in British waters - all 32m of it - and certainly one of the most frequently dived, judging by the number of dive boats circling like predatory fish. An interesting exit from the boat - one leg on the gunwale and then sort of fall and roll off, hopefully landing on your cylinder (why is this technique not taught in Novice lessons?) - and its off down the shot line. Down is not the problem, its along that is causing problems as the tide hadn’t quite turned and is still running strong. Once on the wreck everything is forgotten except the pleasure of exploring the holds, decks, companion ways and viewing the abundant sea life.

Half an hour seems like 5 minutes, but our air is down so we must go up. A quick hunt for the shot line reaffirms that my navigation hasn’t improved, so its off to the bows to launch the delayed SMB. The tide has turned and the safety stop is not too unpleasant, but as always seems to drag. Then its up the last 6m and a swift battle with the ladder into the camaraderie of "Did you see ...", "What about ...", "How deep ...", "How long ...", "I’ve found the leak in my suit", but most importantly - the cup of tea!

The Chairman and Treasurer relax. Chequebook anyone?

Seeking shelter from the drizzle, lunch is taken in a Steeple Cove. A brief exchange with the skipper - "What do you want to do this afternoon?", "I don’t know. What do you recommend.", "How about here? You’ve got 10m.", "OK - let’s go!" - results in an hour of fun with the Cantabria, snakelocks anemone, prawns, spider crabs, velvet crabs, bloody henry’s and plaice - all on spin cycle! Just to maintain the status quo after Claire has patched her leaky wrist seal, Suzanne rips a knee while having a close look at the wreckage.

The usual mad end of day dash of cylinder filling, showers and changing sees the intrepid divers ensconced in the local pub - so no major deviation there then. However, Kev "I sometimes mend boats" [FX: sniff] Lea, has still to repair Suzanne’s knee rip, so it’s back to the caravan for a spot of late night glue sniffing!

Sunday, and the sun has returned with avengeance. A 9am start sees us heading for the Persia - sans flu vector. The shot is dropped and we roll in to find the wreck. Well, 2 out of 6 isn’t bad, and at least the other 4 have dived her before. But what an alternative - conger, lobsters, sea cucumbers, 10m vis - who needs the wreck? But more air would be nice, there just isn’t enough time at 30m, so it back to the shot line as Jake can navigate underwater.

Demonstration of quaffing.

The East Rutts is our final destination. 5 miles from shore, GPS is useful. These pinnacles raise from the sea bed at 35m and come all the way up to 8m - so its pick your depth time. We like the look of 20m, and so do the cup coral and jewel anemones, whole walls of them - green, pink, blue, red - and when they got boring, nooks and crannies and a small cave just to keep it interesting! But that would be failing to mention the dog fish, edible crabs, spider crabs, dead mans fingers, etc, etc, etc!

Too soon and its all over! Back at the quay, goodbyes are said as some head for home and others for the caravan for a leisurely drive back the next day in the thunderstorm.