MacDuff Marine Aquarium

I had a lovely day on Saturday: I went diving at the MacDuff Marine Aquarium.  It's not a very big dive - the tank is roughly 20 ft wide and 16 ft deep - but it's fuller of sea-life than anywhere else I've dived in the UK. 

All the inhabitants are native species.  There are large cod and their ling cousins; black rays; plaice; dogfish and bull huss (both are types of shark); several huge wolf-fish, ash grey with stripes and fangs; an enormous plaice about the size of my dining-table who snapped at other fish that came near while she was being fed; two varieties of wrasse, beautifully coloured and marked; and two conger eels that I hand-fed (no, I still have both hands; I was holding fillets of mackerel for them to grab). 

It's the closest I'm ever likely to get to that size, type and quantity of fauna in UK waters.  We've fished our seas practically to death and what's left is understandably shy, especially if you're blowing bubbles at the time.  Many fish view bubbles as a sign of aggression, but sometimes they enjoy them: a couple of plaice were swimming through the columns of bubbles from the aeration machinery, enjoying the tickling sensation.

The aquarium has several smaller tanks, with beasties whose native habitat varies from rock-pools to deep water.  One tank held baby jellyfish; another had lump-suckers, weird box-shaped fish that grip onto rocks with suckers on their bellies. 

The facility exists for education, and they do three "feeding shows" a week throughout the year (more in high summer) where you can watch divers interact with the fish. The kiddies were loving it, waving like mad at us through the glass, their little mouths going "ooh" and "aah" and grinning as we waved back.  Before the dive I found watching the fish through the glass fascinating, as you see bits of them you'd never get a look at otherwise - the underneath of flatfish, for example, which just lie in the sand and pretend they're not there when divers are around.  I'd never seen one actually swim before; they're very graceful, undulating like rays.

Sadly, as the Aquarium is owned by the Council, there have inevitably been funding cuts.  They've had to reduce staff and some exhibits are getting rather tired and crumbly.  However they're looking to recruit staff for the summer holidays, so if you're a diver looking for a summer job there's an opening for you up on the Moray Firth.  No previous experience required, no expertise except that you have to be a BSAC Sports Diver or equivalent to dive in the tank.  What they need is folk with people skills, who can talk to the kids and their parents, help with the feeding and selling in the shop, and generally make themselves useful.  Please pass the information on if you know anyone appropriate!

Even if you don't, if you're anywhere near Banff/Peterhead/Nairn go and visit the Marine Aquarium - it's a great day out if you have any interest in sea creatures.  I learnt a lot: fish ID had never been my strong point, but I'm never going to mistake any of the fish I saw on Saturday.

Through a lens, blotchily.

I've been commissioned to write a piece for Scuba Magazine about Montrose SAC's club trip to Northern Ireland later this year.  To get the best quality underwater photos I'll need an wide-angled lens (there's a lot of stuff in the water that causes blotches in the photos, called "back-scatter"; with a wide-angled lens you can get in closer to the subject and therefore reduce the amount of water between you and it, thus reducing back-scatter.)

So I've been trying to locate a wide-angle lens I can use with my Intova underwater camera set-up. (If you're not yet into underwater photography, it's important to know that cameras typically have to go inside a watertight housing, onto which you screw accessories like lenses and lights; the cameras - apart from a few very expensive ones, perhaps - aren't themselves watertight.  Each type of camera has its own housing, so you have to get the right one for your camera.)  

I know Intova make a lens that you can fit and remove during a dive.  I know who imports it into this country - but they don't sell direct to the public, so I've been trawling the internet to find a retailer.

Intova IC12 camera
(photos courtesy of
Intova's website)

The same, in its
underwater housing.

According to the importer's website the nearest agency is Aberdeen Watersports, so I checked their website: no mention of any lenses.  Same for the agencies in Burntisland, Edinburgh and Glasgow - in fact most of them didn't even mention Intova. 

So I searched e-Bay, where I eventually found a lens after trying 2-3 different keyword phrases ("scuba diving cameras", "underwater cameras", that sort of thing).  But all it said by way of identification was "46mm thread".  As I have no idea what size thread my housing has that wasn't very helpful.  Intova make several housings.  Which one does this lens fit?  At around £130 a pop I'm not going to buy one on spec.

Why are retailers so coy about their products?  If you're writing for/to consumers you can't expect them all to be experts on everything they want to buy.  I know I need the lens that fits my specific housing and I know which housing I've got.  I haven't a clue what the thread size is, and I doubt there's any mention of it in the handbook as that only covers the camera iself.  Why can't they say "fits xyz housing(s)" or something really simple like that?

It's all very well saying "come and visit our shop" but their shop's in Liverpool and I'm between Dundee and Aberdeen.  That's not exactly a 10-minute jaunt; the diesel would double the price of the lens.  And while I'm sure it's a lovely shop, full of all sorts of delightful bits and bobs that I never knew I didn't need, I'm not going to waste the better part of two days getting there and back.

Thank heavens for email.  With a bit of luck I'll get replies from 5 separate retailers saying "we've got just the thing for you, and it'll only cost £100 all in".  A girl can dream...

Water babies

I wish our pool were as handsome as this...

Yesterday Montrose BSAC hosted a try-dive for a group of local schoolkids.  Forfar Academy's Year 5 school trip goes to Borneo every second year, for a week's survival skills followed by a week's diving (wish I'd been to a school like that...).  Last night 22 of the students came to try a dive before next year's trip.

A few were very scared of the idea of diving - one is apparently terrified of drowning - but they'd all gone right under the water by the end of their trial, even if not in the deep end of the pool.  The one who's terrified of drowning even went to the bottom of the deep end (3.6 metres) and came up beaming, saying it had been "great".  What an achievement!

22 kids divided by 4 instructors times ~10 minutes each takes a while.  Inevitably some of them had to wait quite a long time for their turn, which doesn't help if you're nervous, but there was none of the joshing that could have made the wait harder.  In fact, they were really well-behaved - quiet and helpful to us and each other.

It's good to be part of an event like that, helping people overcome fears that could have made the trip a nightmare for them instead of a lifetime opportunity.  I hope the memory of last night will serve when they come to do it for real in the open sea.  At least in Borneo they'll have warm water: the pool yesterday made several of them shiver as they slid or jumped into it.

And it'll be worth the nerves and the effort.  The wildlife at the bottom of the sea in Borneo is much prettier than that at the bottom of Montrose swimming pool.

Coastguards

At this time of year dive clubs up and down the country are trying to find interesting people to talk to members on club nights.  Yesterday our club had a talk from the Sector Manager of Montrose Coastguard station, which was fascinating.

I knew very little about what the coastguard service does, except that they're on the end of a radio if anything goes wrong.  But they do more than just Search and Rescue at sea; they also check boats and can impound them if they're considered unsafe, do flood rescues inland, deal with cargo lost overboard and check on marine pollution.

The UK coastguard covers all sea areas half-way to the next seaboard, so in the north Atlantic their patch goes half-way to Canada, Greenland, Iceland, Norway, and so on.  That's a huge area to monitor, still less to get shore-based vessels to, so they use other boats in the vicinity (referred to as "rescue assets").  Any vessel, even a rowing boat if it has a radio, has to respond to a Mayday call.  It may not be able to help - a high-sided container ship wouldn't be particularly useful in a man-overboard emergency, for example - but it can monitor and be an "eye on the ocean" for the coastguard on the radio back home.

One big question concerned the closure of most of the present 18 stations around Britain.  The press has made this out to be A Very Bad Idea, but our speaker was all in favour.  At the moment most stations have around 3 staff on duty who spend most of the shift waiting for a call; when one does come in they have to deal with it by themselves, and 3 people are not many in that situation.  Under the new system there will be fewer thumb-twiddlers and more co-operation, as all the stations will be connected, so it should be much more efficient all round.

Montrose station have a particular affinity for mud.  Montrose Basin is a tidal lagoon which becomes a mud-flat with a river running through it at low tide.  If anyone gets caught in the mud it sucks them down, up to their armpits, and the coastguards then used to have to haul them out bodily against the suction.  Now they use a fire extinguisher to force air down through the mud, which loosens it around the body, making rescues much easier.  They haul people across the mud in basket stretchers, using them like sleds to spread body-weight.

They've recently been teaching the same technique to firefighters in Dundee, who have Dundee airport on their patch.  If you're not familiar with Dundee airport, it's tiny - so are the aircraft that land there, by commercial standards - and sits right at the edge of the Firth of Tay [Firth = estuary].  At low water there's miles of mud.  If a plane misses the runway, there will be 25-30 people stranded and, potentailly, sinking into the mud.  Coastguards usually only have to deal with individual strandings; the firefighters needed to know how to cope with lots at once.  That training must have been an interesting exercise to watch.

We divers were given lots of good advice on what to do while awaiting rescue.  One that particularly sticks in my mind: if you've got separated from your boat and you see a rescue helicopter coming over, take off your hood because a) it's probably black and therefore invisible in the water and b) they use heat-seeking infra-red devices and your hood is designed to keep the heat in.  At night the decision's a bit more difficult, because most hoods these days have reflective strips on them which the 'copter's light might pick up - so do you leave it on for the light or take it off for the heat-seeking doodahs?  Hmm...

Anyway - "dive safe" and with a bit of luck you'll never need to take that decision!

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If you need a copywriter with scuba experience, go to http://greatcopy.info.

Hazards of winter diving

This is a very frustrating time of year for divers living in northerly latitudes, who prefer diving in the sea rather than in quarries and other inland waterways.  You arrange a day's diving: check the tides, find an interesting-looking site, get your buddies signed up, book the boat, or make sure your own boat is seaworthy and the trailer is safe; maybe you even book accommodation.

Then the weather turns nasty and the day's blown out.  It's happened to me twice already this year (though I must admit other people did all that prep work both times).

I have a pool-tested drysuit, but I want to check it really is dry now and I can't do that in 3.6 metres of water.  I have all my kit clean, dry and lightly oiled (well, I've rubbed beeswax along my drysuit zip and siliconed the O-rings of my torch and camera housing, anyway).  I've packed the whole caboodle into the car twice and had to take it out again.

All I want to do is get wet - and not in chlorinated water.  A pool is no substitute for the real thing (the wildlife's not up to much, for a start, and what you do find in there doesn't bear thinking about).

Our main problem has been the wind, as it was for so much of last year.  Last weekend the forecast was for Force 4-6, with gusts of up to 45mph.  That's no fun, nor is it safe for wee rubber boats or divers.

In the event I was quite glad we didn't try diving last Saturday.  As I walked my dogs in the woods (to avoid the worst of the wind-chill) the sleet came on.  The very thought of being out in a small boat in the middle of the North Sea in sleet is seriously unappetising.  There's no protection from the elements in a RIB and a drysuit can only provide so much weather-proofing: rain's bad enough, but sleet is beyond horrid.

So I'll possess myself in what little patience I can muster and pray for a sunny, calm, dry spring and summer with brilliant viz, in total contrast to last year up here.  One out of four would be good, but I'm going for the set.  We're due a break....

To read more about GreatCopy go to http://greatcopy.info/.

Good news!

Yesterday was a day of excellent news, one to stay in the memory for some time (given my age, I can't really hope for more than that!).

As my regular reader(s) will know, I started scuba training in November 2009.  I qualified as an Ocean Diver the following summer and started Sports Diver training in November 2010, completing it last summer - by the skin of my teeth: I got the last exercise signed off on the last dive of the year.  Last November I started the Dive Leader theory training.

And yesterday I took the exam.  And passed.  Yeehaah!

Slightly unexpected, that.  I looked at the paper and saw two questions on the Dive Tables that we had covered in the revision lesson - and I couldn't remember how to work them out.  My brain does that in exams.  I moved on to other questions, came back to the Dive Table ones at the end, and managed to get some sort of answer for those two, and a third one which we hadn't covered.  I have to admit they were all wrong, but I still passed [big smiley face!].

I never dive using the tables.  Who does, now that we all rely on computers?  But if I want to do the Instructor course (and I do, all in good time) I'm obviously going to have to re-learn how to use them.

I got home, after the statutory celebration (sorry: de-brief) in the pub, to find the latest issue of Scuba magazine waiting for me - and my second piece of good news.

I'd got in touch with the publisher of Scuba, BSAC's new house mag, shortly after it was launched (this is the third issue) because they were looking for a female diver to write a regular column.  I didn't get that job, but he suggested I write a couple of pieces on spec for two regular columns; so I did.  And one of them was published as a two-page spread this month [another big smiley face!!].

I know: you were expecting my usual rant.  But even I can't be a grumpy old woman with that sort of thing going on [really smiley face!!!].

Life's good.  And I'm due to go diving on Saturday (fingers crossed for the weather).  Aahhh.

If you want to find out more about my writing, go to http://greatcopy.info/sampler.

The saga of the drysuit looks as though it may have come to an end.  Hoo-flipping-ray!! And about time too.

By the end of last season it was leaking really badly, and I had two miserably cold days at the end of October, completely soaked by the end of each morning dive.  Luckily there was no afternoon dive on the Saturday and on Sunday there were the harbour's hot showers and a complete change of clothing to look forward to before the long drive home.

That was IT.  Enough.  I thought I was going to have to get a new suit and even got in touch with a friend who makes them (though only for power-boating - he wasn't too sure about making one for diving...).  I took the suit to the dive shop for a last attempt at rendering it usable.  Given that the shop had pressure-tested it the previous year and found no problems, I wasn't sanguine, but it was worth one last shot.

They tested it again and found not one but THREE holes, the largest around the suit inflation valve.  As the valve doesn't swivel and that's where I was getting wettest, that wasn't a major surprise, but I hadn't realised there were also holes in one arm and on my back.  So they fixed the holes, re-taped the neck and wrist seals, and gave it back to me for a reasonable sum.

I'd hoped to test it for real on a club dive down at St Abb's a couple of weekends ago, but the weather wasn't up to much so I didn't go.  Yesterday evening I gave it the "beginner's test", in the local swimming pool down to 3.6 metres.  Not a drop.  Totally dry.  Hallelujah!!

I do hope it'll be the same when I move that decimal point to 36....

The show goes on!

Dive 2011, Birmingham UK.
My dream drysuit – I’ve seen my dream drysuit!  At last someone has realised that black is boring.  And not very safe either, if you’re trying to keep track of your buddy in murky vis.  (Don’t get me started on cammo drysuits.  The invisible buddy – how are you going to keep an eye on him  if you can’t see him?!?)  Fish aren’t all black, so why should we be?

Nah.  This drysuit, by Hammond Drysuits of Dartford in Kent, had a different colour for each section.  Probably not a regular production number...  One arm was lemon yellow, another turquoise, the front of a leg was red, the back green –if I haven’t got exactly the right colour in the right place at least you get the drift.  Bright.  Cheerful.  VISIBLE.  Maybe a bit too visible for some – not everyone does the jester look well – but un-losable.  Better still, it might even keep you dry – a sore point with me at the moment...).

What else was on show at Dive 2011?  My prize for gizmo of the year goes to the TriDri, a handy telescopic tube with a fan at one end and an outlet the other, for drying drysuits.  I could really have used one last weekend – better still two, one in each boot!.  It’s triangular, so it rests on one edge and doesn’t roll around.  It folds quite small, so it’ll fit in your bag.  And it blows air forward into the toe of the boot, normally the hardest bit to dry. What’s more, it was so silent that the demonstrators had fitted strips of plastic to the top end so you could see there really was air blowing through it. 

In tests with a rinsed-out suit, indoors the leg with the TriDri dried in 2-3 hours while the other leg took 9 days; in the garage the figures were 3.5 hours and 14 days respectively.  It’s not yet in production, so if you know anyone who could make such a thing for a reasonable price (I’d happily pay up to £40 for one), get in touch with Dr. Howard Fortescue at howard@howard-f-fortescue.co.uk.

All the usual suspects were showing – Asia-Pacific and the Caribbean had “villages” of their own, PADI and BSAC were there in force.  The Photo Zone provided a colourful interlude, chats with Maria Munn’s enthusiastic staff, and a chance to vote on this year’s underwater photos of the year.  The rebreather market was well represented and the technical pool was constantly busy with divers putting kit to the test.

Competitions were rampant as travel companies tried to tempt divers to book now, right now, while the mood was on them; business is clearly still very tough for many, meaning bargains and emptier seas for divers. 

Among the speakers Andrea Marshall and Mack S House stood out for opposite reasons.  Mack House was speaking on Underwater Crime Scene Investigation, which should have been a fascinating topic.  Sadly he didn’t come alive (ironic, really) until he was answering questions at the end, by which time I’d lost interest in him and his subject. 

Andrea Marshall, who should have been talking about Manta rays, threw her brief out the window and gave an impassioned speech about conservation and how divers have a huge but time-limited opportunity to make a difference to the health of the watery 71%.  She apologised for being depressing but gave such a rousing call to action that no-one will have come out of that room untouched.

A busy weekend but a fascinating one, filled with friendly faces, glorious kit (I got the torch I needed at half-price, a spare undersuit for only £25, several books at reduced prices...), and so many opportunities. 

But the real revelation of the show was a new low in catering (cheese-on-toast-flavoured coffee, anyone?).

Into the murk.

Yesterday I went diving.  Nothing new there, but this summer has been different.  The weather has been no better or worse than previous years - indeed, a lot better than a couple of years ago when we had torrential rain almost every day - but the vis has been rubbish.

Now I don't know whether that's a cyclical thing - I haven't been diving long enough - or whether it's a freak of this year.  One of the club says it's the worst long-term vis he's ever known; another reckons it's a plankton bloom.  All I know is that if it had been like this last year I'd probably have given up diving, so I hope it doesn't put off this year's crop of trainees.

So - yesterday.  The sea was fairly calm in the bay at Catterline but as we headed north to Crawton it got choppier.  Arriving under the cliff a wall of noise and the stench of guano met us from thousands of nesting birds who dive-bombed us all the time we were above water, and the swell was very noticeable. 

If only they'd been this easy to see!

Once in the water I thanked Providence that my buddy (who was leading) had a white cylinder so at least there was something to spot.  The vis was maybe as much as 1 metre.  Looking very closely one could see that the wall would be very pretty, if only one could have seen more.  I did spot dead men's fingers, tiny anemones and a whole nursery of baby common starfish, plus a few sunstars.

I was diving with new neoprene socks in my wellies and soon started having trouble finning.  The socks are a lot thinner than my old feather-filled ones and don't fill up the boot in the same way so my boots and fins were heading south, away from my ankles.  Stopping to hoick them up, I lost sight of my buddy.  The training kicked in: look all around for 1 minute, go up a bit and look around some more, repeat until you reach the surface.  No sign of her until a flurry of bubbles erupted below me like tiny mercury parachutes and a DSMB popped up almost under my nose.  We must have been within a couple of yards of each other all along.  We gave up.  Total dive time: 10 minutes.

Three couples dived, none came up together.  I know there's no such thing as a bad dive, but some are definitely better than others!

The perils of pools.

Pool training - in a much bigger pool than we use!

We're now well into the pool training season.  For us, up here in north-east Scotland, it will last until late March-early April, depending on the weather.  That's a lot of time to spend in chlorine! 

I'm currently doing my BSAC Sports Diver training, so on Monday we were learning the correct "pistol grip" for towing and giving rescue breaths. Not too much of a problem, though I kept forgetting that I should keep my ring finger and pinkie bent under the "casualty's" chin; also, because it wasn't a real emergency, everything was done in slow motion.  It wouldn't feel like that in real life!  And I'm sure giving rescue breaths in choppy conditions is much harder.

Now there are two things you need to know for the rest of the story to make sense.  Firstly, there's a problem with the lift at the pool (it's only designed to carry wheelchair users, not the combined kit of the whole club), so we have to carry all our kit up to the first floor to start with, then down several steps to the pool-side, and then reverse the process after training.  It certainly improves our fitness...  And secondly, because my fins are big enough for my dry-suit boots, I wear wet-suit boots at the pool. They have quite grippy soles that should stop me slipping on the steps and the wet tiles around the pool.

So after the class I hefted my BC and cylinder up the steps to the top of the main stairs and headed back down for my fin-bag.  Whoosh!  My boots slipped on wet tiling and I did the last three steps on my bum and left elbow.  Not very comfortable.  I now have a black bruise on my left buttock as though someone's ridden a muddy mountain-bike across it and another, slightly less dramatic but equally painful, just below my left elbow.

And we do winter training in the pool because it's safer than the open sea.  Ironic, no?

Underwater adventure.

Continuing the scuba story:

On Sunday April 11th I had my second open-water dive.  Montrose Sub-Aqua Club has a boat-house at Catterline, near Stonehaven (roughly 20 miles south of Aberdeen), with several small islands and reefs close off-shore and not too deep, so it's perfect for novice divers.  Sunday was one of those gorgeous spring days, sun sparkling off the water, bright and clear and warm, and we were promised two dives, one before and one after lunch.

I did my first open-water dive three weeks ago, down to about 5 metres, and had a bit of trouble getting and staying down, so I'd added another 8 lbs of weight to the 24lbs I'd needed in the swimming pool.  One of the main challenges of diving is the sheer weight of the kit you have to wear: I'm whacked before I ever get in the water.  I'm assured it gets easier when you're used to it, and of course you don't feel the weight underwater, but on land - boy, oh boy!  On the plus side, people keep telling me I'm too light - music to my ears, as I'm no sylph.

So: second dive.  I was diving with Barrie who, like most instructors, is very used to the vagaries of beginners.  I had trouble getting down but eventually I made it to the sandy bottom.  We did a couple of technical exercises and then set off to swim a gully between the beach and a small island.  In good visibility we saw plenty of starfish and some dead-men's finger corals, and got down to about 10 metres.  But I was having trouble with my buoyancy and found myself rising to the surface much faster than the recommended 15 metres per minute.  Not dangerous from that depth, but uncontrolled and meaning Barrie also had to surface quickly to make sure I was OK.

We went back down - I sank much more easily, for some reason - and did another exercise before finding the anchor rope and going up it, at the recommended rate this time, to un-kit before clambering back into the boat.  Barrie's suggestion that I'd be "agile as a gazelle" was rather wide of the mark - more like "stranded whale" - but elegance was never my strong point, and at least I was in...

Back to the boathouse for lunch and to refill the air cylinders, then my third dive, again with Barrie (poor man).  I had even more trouble getting down, spending ages at the surface before I began to sink (why does that happen?  Dunno yet) and my trim wasn't right - I was listing to starboard the whole time.  Managed to hitch the kit around enough to get fairly level, and we set off to have a look round and get down to 15 metres.  Lots more to see down there - tiny brown and white crabs scuttling across the sand, dahlia anemones, sea urchins, and plenty more starfish and dead-men's fingers.  Barrie shone his torch hopefully into crevices to check for lobster, but no luck.

As we went deeper I began having problems keeping my feet down: as my head went down air was getting into my boots from the rest of my drysuit and I was just about inverted.  I did the forward roll that's supposed to solve the problem - one of the exercises we'd practised on the morning dive - but it didn't do the trick.  Tried again - no result.  I couldn't get my feet down.  To make things worse, with all that thrashing about my fins had come loose.  It turned out later the boots were half off my feet with the fins still attached, but it felt as though I was going to lose them completely, so I stopped kicking.  I could feel myself rising, fast, to the surface but once I got there things didn't improve because I put air into my drysuit instead of my buoyancy compensator (BC - air-fillable jacket like a life-preserver), so more air was going to my feet and it was difficult to hold my head out of the water.  By now I was panicking.  My regulator kept falling out of my mouth, so I was swallowing gouts of seawater.  I did remember to wave my arm over my head, the signal for "I'm in trouble", and I yelled for help, but I had no idea where the boat was or whether anyone could hear me.   

I don't know how long that went on - it felt like several minutes, but was probably much less - and then Barrie was filling my BC with air and someone was telling me to put my hand through something on the boat.  I was relieved of my kit and pushed and hauled into the boat, more like a stranded whale even than before lunch, and collapsed on the bottom-boards, where I stayed until we got back to the boathouse.

Everyone was very kind, and made it seem like an ordinary occurrence - maybe it is, and I shall see others in the same predicament over the next few weeks.  For their sakes I really hope not. 

Lessons learnt: I need more weight, preferably ankle weights, both to get down and to keep my feet down.  And I need to remember to fill my BC at the surface.  I've been mentally practising that.  Every time I picture myself floundering on the surface I think "now inflate BC, now inflate BC", so that it will become an automatic response.  Since the "action replay" is still showing regularly on my mental screen, the programming stands a strong chance of working.

So - many thanks to Barrie for saving my life, and I hope for his sake that someone else gets to take me down next time!  I did consider giving up and settling for snorkelling, but not for long.  Well, I've bought all the kit now, haven't I?  Shame to waste it, and a winter's training, for a minor setback.

P.S. Apparently it's quite normal to go through all that - everyone comes up feet first at least once in their diving career, I'm told.  I guess we all have to learn from our mistakes...
Diving again on Sunday :-)