The Not-Quite Malin Head Trip July 2013

Chi Lee on the Argo Delos.  Photo credit Martin Kerr

July saw me off to Ireland to try my hand at some of the Big Name wrecks off Malin Head.  The weather gods had other plans for us and we had to stay east of Malin Head, but I’m happy to report that the consolation prizes are very fine indeed. 

After flying into Glasgow Meeko and I weaved our way down to Stanraer on Loch Ryan, a very picturesque part of southwest Scotland.  Along the way we stopped at the memorial for the cruiser Varyag, a very interesting ship in it’s own right.  Built in Philadelphia and commissioned into the Imperial Russian Navy in 1901, it fought heroically in the Russo-Japanese War.  After a fierce engagement in which it was heavily outnumbered it was scuttled rather than allow it to fall into Japanese hands.  Nevertheless the Varyag was raised in 1907 and commissioned as the Japanese light cruiser Soya.  During World War I the Japanese, now allies of the Russians, returned it to them.  Eventually the re-renamed Varyag made it’s way to the Clyde for refurbishment, and was seized by the British government following the Russian Revolution.  It was sold for scrap to the Germans in 1920 but sank while under tow near Lendalfoot, with a beautiful memorial marking the spot.  Some day on another trip I hope to have a poke about and see what remains.

Our trip was booked aboard the MY Salutay.  Al and Freda Wright run a first-class operation all the way.  The boat is neat as a pin, well appointed, well-skippered, and Freda’s cooking is outstanding.  I do so love a trip where you spend your deco dreaming about the lunch you are about to partake of, especially the homemade desserts that graced both dinner AND lunch (if you have never had banoffee pie, and especially Freda’s banoffee pie, then I regret to tell you yours is but a sad stunted shadow of a life.) 

The seas off Northern Ireland can be a bit tricky to dive.  Because of the tidal flow it is necessary to go in at slack tide, and the wind and tides need to align in your favor.  Just to make things a little more interesting the slack occassionally comes early too.  All the more credit to Captain Al then for getting us in the water every day.  The standard procedure is for the captain to drop a shot, with the last diver in making sure it is clear of the wreck for recovery.  After the dive we would all bag off, either individually or in teams, and drift along like so much flotsam for our decompression.

 
Our first dive was on the Castle Eden, a broken-up World War II collier in 30 meters.  The visibility was outstanding, and I had a lovely time poking about the bits of wreckage.  Near the stern I found an enormous lobster, a fat sassy female just ambling about in the sand.  A blue lobster!  This was a rara avis indeed, only one in five million! I was without a camera, and because we were in Irish waters I couldn’t bring her up.  Topside my excitement was met with amusement though, it seems that over here blue is bog standard for lobsters.  I don't care it was still very cool to see.  We later spent a couple of days on the stern section of the Argo Delos, a Greek cargo ship that ran aground in 1960.  It is a wonderful dive, with an enormous chunk of the hull lying turtled and creating a cavernous area ripe for exploration.  At one point I rested my hands on the lip of a ledge and was rewarded with a sharp bite from a conger eel. Fortunately he didn’t like the taste of rubber and released, and I now have empirical (well, anecdotal) proof that my dry gloves are pretty goddamn tough. 

Didier Slama on the Argo Delos. Photo credit Martin Kerr

We tied up in port every night but one, and were able to savor (make that savour) the cultural delights of Ballycastle, Northern Ireland and Port Rush, Ireland (translation: we went to a lot of pubs.)  Both are pretty little towns, and the latter in particular had a lovely cliff trail above the beaches.  I was there for the 4^th of July and was treated/pestered by Bruce Springsteen on a loop at the pub (I’m not a fan), and later we watched that most patriotic of entertainments, Team America.  I thought about reading aloud the Declaration of Independence but thought better of it – that’s the kind of thing that can start with “When in the Course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands...” and end with, I don’t know, more Bruce Springsteen being played at me.  I think perhaps my favorite part was watching Didier, transplanted from Canada to Glasgow, be teased about how this was his holiday too: “You know, Canadian, American, it’s all the same thing, right? Right?”

Photo credit Martin Kerr



Meeko and Wilkie. Photo credit Martin Kerr.

The SS Santa Maria was my favorite wreck of the trip, an American tanker torpedoed on February 25, 1918 by the U-19.  She lies turtled and surprisingly intact in 65 meters off Ballycastle, Northern Ireland.  It was dark but clear on the bottom, with lots of relief and swim throughs.  At the end of my dive I was joined by Wilkie on top of the wreck, who considerately offered to shoot the marker bag while I followed.  I already had my bag and reel and it took a moment to restow them, whilst Wilkie made very expressive signals that he was ready to go and his offer had an expiration date of about 1 minute (squirt of air in bag, significant look at me, pause, another squirt, another furrowed-brow look.)  Somewhere within shouting (really, whispering) distance of the end of his patience we made our ascent for an hour of lazy drifting deco.  I like to keep active on my deco so I swam circles around him, and was very bemused at how, no matter where I was in the circumference, he was always pivoted around to keep a wary eye on me.  Good thing he didn’t have a bang stick with him.  He cleared a few minutes before me and offered me his reel and bag when he ascended, again with a very expressive mien that said “Come up with my brand- new Kent reel - or don’t come up at all!”  In a sign of how conditions can change the seas were now a good 2 meters with long ribbons of spray blowing off the tops of the white caps.  The wind was also crossing the currents, with the effect that most of the teams went one way while I drifted out of the bay.  It is never a comforting sight to see the boat a tiny dot on the horizon but Al had it all well in hand, and after 15 minutes of bobbing like a cork I was safely back onboard.

 

 SS Santa Maria

The final dive of the trip was on the Tiberia, which lies just off Belfast Lough.  This British cargo ship was on its way from Glasgow to New York when she too was sunk by the U-19, one day after it struck the Santa Maria.  She sits intact and upright in 65 meters, with a mast rising to 30 meters and a gun tub on her stern.  I was hoping to penetrate it but the amount of silt on it was unbelievable, filling the stern quarters and cargo holds nearly floor to ceiling.  I circumswam it once then rode out my deco with the lion’s mane jellies, enjoying the warm water and looking forward to returning some day…