Waves – Page 9 – Learn to Dive Today Blog

Dive tourism in Malta (and some hints for South Africa)

Last year August, Tony and I spent a blissful week in Malta, diving ourselves silly in the mornings and napping in the heat of the afternoon. In the evenings, we ate ice cream and participated in the time-honoured Italian tradition of the passegiata.

The nation of Malta comprises three small islands located just south of Italy, in the Mediterranean Sea. The water is warm, there is almost no sand around the islands (most of the beaches are man-made), the limestone structure of the islands gives rise to caves, swim throughs and gullies to explore, and there is negligible tidal activity. The climate in summer is almost boringly warm and stable and with the exception of some violent winter storms, the ocean surrounding Malta is welcoming all year through. These factors combine to make it an extremely attractive location for scuba diving.

Malta’s natural charms, however, are greatly enhanced by her government’s approach to dive tourism. Recognising that visiting divers bring considerable income to all sectors of the Maltese economy (divers eat, need somewhere to sleep, and can’t spend all day diving!), the government has over the years scuttled a number of ships (ten or more at last count) as attractions for divers. These include the Um El Faroud, the Imperial Eagle, the P29, and the Rozi – all of which we dived. There are also a number of World War II wrecks (submarines!) around the islands, many at depths suitable for technical diving only.

Diving in Malta is well regulated. The Professional Diving Schools Association is a voluntary organisation representing over 30 dive centres in Malta, and encourages its members to adhere to high standards of safety and care. Divers visiting Malta are required to complete medical questionnaires before being allowed to dive, and are required to adhere to certain other regulations governing divers and their safety.

We very much enjoyed the wrecks in Malta, and found a special charm in even the newer ones that were scuttled in the last five years. The P29, for example, was almost clear of marine invertebrate growth, and all the wrecks were still discernible as the beautiful ships they once were. Surrounding them we found scores of fish – damselfish, barracuda, and the odd tuna.

There are several purposely-scuttled wrecks available around Cape Town, but there’s been no additional activity on this front for years. Only the Aster – the newest wreck, scuttled close to 20 years ago – still looks much like a ship. The Smitswinkel Bay wrecks – the Good Hope, Transvaal, Orotava, Princess Elizabeth and Rockeater, were scuttled over 30 years ago and have been pounded by the rough winter seas of the Cape. They are recognisable as ships, but penetrating any of them is a mug’s game and often during dives on these wrecks one can hear them creaking and groaning in the surge. The SAS Pietermaritzburg is in an even more exposed position off Miller’s Point, and is yet more beaten up despite being more recent than the Smitswinkel Bay wrecks.

Before I get shot down in flames for trying to compare Maltese and South African wrecks (age differences aside), let me qualify my statements. I recognise that there are significant differences between the Mediterranean Sea around Malta and the two oceans surrounding the South African coast – here are two:

the quantity of biomass that is supported off the Cape coast is far greater than that supported by the almost sterile (I exaggerate) waters of the Med – invertebrates quickly cover available surfaces and blur the outlines; and
the tides and currents around our coast are fierce and strong, and in a short time weaken any structure placed underwater.

What isn’t different, however, is how valuable scuba diving tourists are to the countries’ economies. Divers who have the means to travel and scuba dive also have the means to enjoy other activities in their destination countries. Diving is often a hobby of those who generally enjoy the outdoors, and a country like South Africa (as opposed to, say, Dubai) has a wealth of experiences in nature to offer such tourists.

Very little grows in Malta, and the islands are hilly but no one would travel there for that reason alone. Compared to Malta, South Africa is ridiculously blessed with spectacular landscapes and wildlife both above and below the ocean. South African divers also know the tropical wonders of Sodwana, the chilly but exhilarating shark, wreck and reef diving available in the Cape, and the incredible ecosystems in between. This is all in addition to our mountains, deserts, fynbos, bush, and coastal scenery. Why isn’t more made of our underwater heritage?

It would be wonderful to see the South African government and South African National Parks being receptive to more properly cleaned wrecks being scuttled around our coast in locations suitable for recreational diving. More Marine Protected Areas, properly policed, would be good. It would also be great to see local dive centres striving to offer meaningful, repeatable diving experiences to tourists, instead of seeing them as once-off cash cows who can be taken out for a dive in appalling conditions because they aren’t coming back anyway. It would also induce much joy if airlines of all sizes in South Africa recognised (as Air Malta does) that scuba diving is a sport, like (ahem – sorry divers) golf, and gave an extra luggage allowance for scuba diving equipment.

I don’t think enough is done to encourage tourists to visit this country in order to dive, or with diving as one of their primary activities. It would benefit everyone – not just dive centres and dive charters – if more could be made of this opportunity. The example of Malta is a good one.

Diving in less than ideal conditions

This is a much discussed issue and last Saturday was a good example. I had chosen to cancel the plan I had made to take Open Water students in the sea for the first time, because the wind was stronger than expected. Yet while Clare and I sat at the beach, at least 20 divers did enter the water for training.

I sat and watched this as I have done in the past and wondered whether I made the wrong decision. Of the 20 divers that entered the water four did not quite make it to complete the dives and returned to shore. The conditions were not suitable for them and they were not comfortable.

Tony in the green murk at the safety stop

Some claim that if you learn to dive in terrible visibility and rough conditions it makes you a stronger diver. Some (me included) say that you should learn to dive in good conditions, build your skills and comfort levels and have a sense of your ability, and then brave the dodgy conditions if you must. This theory is based on the belief that if you are comfortable in the water, confident in your skills and abilities all you will then need to be concerned about is the conditions around you, but if you have not yet reached this point in your training then (I believe) you should not be exposed to these elements. There are many pros and cons for each argument but I am happy with my choice.

Seli 1, 2, 3…

I’ve posted a couple of times about the Seli 1, a recent shipwreck off Blouberg that I am sure is hated by the owners of expensive homes overlooking the beach. The wreck is, however, loved by local divers (it’s only been dived a couple of times to my knowledge), surfers and kite surfers – the latter because it has caused sand to build up in a way that is extremely favourable to wave generation in front of the wreck!

A storm in early September caused the wreck to break into three pieces, and along with that a minor oil spill which was fairly quickly dealt with. SANCCOB received a couple of oiled seabirds. Why the oil wasn’t removed from the wreck during the initial salvage efforts is a mystery.

These photos were taken on 11 September 2011.

If you’re interested in visible shipwrecks, check out my ebook Cape Town’s Visible Shipwrecks: A Guide for Explorers!

Friday poem: Pretty Halcyon Days

I trust you are having some of these, at this time of year!

Pretty Halcyon Days – Ogden Nash

How pleasant to sit on the beach,
On the beach, on the sand, in the sun,
With ocean galore within reach,
And nothing at all to be done!
No letters to answer,
No bills to be burned,
No work to be shirked,
No cash to be earned.
It is pleasant to sit on the beach
With nothing at all to be done.

How pleasant to look at the ocean,
Democratic and damp; indiscriminate;
It fills me with noble emotion
To think I am able to swim in it.
To lave in the wave,
Majestic and chilly,
Tomorrow I crave;
But today it is silly.
It is pleasant to look at the ocean;
Tomorrow, perhaps, I shall swim in it.

How pleasant to gaze at the sailors,
As their sailboats they manfully sail
With the vigor of vikings and whalers
In the days of the viking and whale.
They sport on the brink
Of the shad and the shark;
If it’s windy they sink;
If it isn’t, they park.
It is pleasant to gaze at the sailors,
To gaze without having to sail.

How pleasant the salt anaesthetic
Of the air and the sand and the sun;
Leave the earth to the strong and athletic,
And the sea to adventure upon.
But the sun and the sand
No contractor can copy;
We lie in the land
Of the lotus and poppy;
We vegetate, calm and aesthetic,
On the beach, on the sand, in the sun.

Bookshelf: The Living Shores of Southern Africa

The Living Shores of Southern Africa – George & Margo Branch

It took me a while to get my hands on a copy of this classic volume by Margo and George Branch, with photography by Anthony Bannister. It was a staple in the classroom of every biology teacher I ever had, and occupies pride of place behind the microscope display at the Two Oceans Aquarium, where it has helped countless nonplussed volunteers answer sticky questions about jellyfish reproduction or the eating habits of limpets. It was first published in 1983 and is long out of print.

The first half of the book deals with habitats – the rocky shore, beaches, estuaries, the open ocean, coral reefs, and kelp forests. The authors manage to sneak in quite a lot of physical oceanography without one noticing, as it obviously impacts the flora and fauna that can colonise a particular area. Prof Branch has a special interest in limpets, and I was amazed to discover the intricate adaptations that these unassuming little creatures have to life in the highly competitive, high stress intertidal zone. The section on kelp forests was also wonderful to me, as a regular diver in these parts! I found the chapter on estuaries somewhat dispiriting, given that it was written thirty years ago and it seems unlikely that matters have changed since then. Prof Branch used the Richard’s Bay estuary of the Mhlathuze River as an example of how human interference turned a thriving, sensitive ecosystem into a muddy wasteland in a matter of a couple of years. I have not visited Richard’s Bay, and indeed had not heard anything about this particular estuary before encountering it in this book, so I will have to do some research to find out whether it’s still in such a parlous state.

I found the sections on sharks, seals and whales – under the chapter on man and the sea – puzzling and upsetting, but perhaps they are just a reflection on where scientific understanding of ecosystems was in the early 1980s. I would be interested to hear Prof Branch’s views on these three types of animal today.

Sharks

On sharks, the authors mention that the Natal Anti-Shark Measures Board (now renamed to something less obviously brutal, but still with the same ultimate aim of killing sharks) killed 11,700 large sharks in eleven years (presumably the decade to 1980). The authors state that it is not known what the effect of removing so many top predators will be on the ecosystem, but do note that there were an estimated extra 2.8 million dusky sharks – a smaller species that has thrived in the absence of tiger and bull sharks – at the end of the eleven year period in question. I was immediately reminded of the fairly recent shark bite that occurred on a baited dive on Aliwal Shoal a few months ago. The culprit was a dusky shark.

What I found unsettling was that very little concern was expressed about the impact of killing so many sharks – highly migratory creatures, in many cases – along a small region of the coastline. The authors do mention the case of Tasmania, which after a few years of shark nets experienced a population explosion of octopus (traditional shark food), who destroyed the local rock lobster population and the profitable local lobster fishing industry. I know that the authors’ focus has been more on coastal species, but their apparent lack of recognition of the role of sharks in a healthy ocean was strange to me given their obvious awareness of how vital is every link of the food web on the rocky shore (urchins, abalone, kelp, sea otters, rock lobster, etc.).

Seals

The authors describe the economic value of the seal cull (which in the 1980s was a grim reality of South African life, and in Namibia still is the case). Baby seals were (are) valued for their soft pelts and the oil in their bodies, and mature seals just for the oil – their pelts were deemed to be too battle-scarred to make into a fur coat. The method of killing baby seals with a blow to their heads was sanctioned as humane by the NSPCA because their little skulls are still soft when they are young (and, in a happy coincidence, it doesn’t damage the pelts).

Apart from the economic rationale for killing seals, the authors state that seal colonies “attract sharks” – as if this is a reason to destroy them. I found this extremely confusing – why is one creature more important or desirable than another? The fact that fish, limpets, seals and sharks exist in the ocean means that they all have a role to play, and that somehow these populations lived in balance before human intervention.

Another reason provided for the annual seal cull (which at one point left 35 seals on Seal Island, in contrast to the current population of over 75,000 seals) was that their numbers were increasing “unchecked” and threatening the nesting sites of seabirds on the island. Nowhere do the authors acknowledge that the reason for the seal population explosion could be that their natural predator, the white shark, was fished to the brink of disappearance off the South African coast by testosterone-fueled trophy hunters. Fortunately today shark and seal eco-tourism is big business, and I don’t think (I stand to be corrected) that any seals are legally killed in South Africa any more.

Whales

Whaling was an entrenched part of the South African economy from the early 1800s, but was comprehensively banned in 1979, shortly before this book was published. In Blue Water White Death the whaling station in Durban was shown, and whale carcasses were used by the filmmakers to attract sharks. The authors provide a synopsis of the state of whaling in the world’s oceans at the time of writing (depressing – what is the validity of “scientific whaling” when it is conducted by a country that feeds whale meat to school children?) and the population status of various types of whale.

They suggest that, because the small Minke whale competes with blue whales for food, Minke whales should continue to be hunted in order to give blue whales a chance at increasing their numbers. My (admittedly uninformed) view of it is that – what with the population explosion of krill that whaling engendered in the Southern Ocean, the blue whales aren’t even going to notice a few small Minkes dining at the lunch bar with them. Whale populations have been reduced to such a tiny fraction of what they used to be that – for a long time still, everything else being equal – competition for food isn’t going to feature in their population dynamics. My feeling on the matter is that if a Minke whale ever even SEES a blue whale, let alone has the opportunity to argue over a ball of krill with it, it should count itself a lucky little whale and move right along.

The second half of the book deals with specific organisms, their life cycle (beautifully illustrated by Margo Branch), and their habits. The authors focus on invertebrates, as (they say) fishes are extensively dealt with in other volumes. The accompanying photographs were taken by Anthony Bannister, and have not dated at all in terms of quality – they are vivid, clear, and beautiful.

Some of what I learned

I learned a huge amount from this book. It’s clearly provided source material for almost every other South African marine flora and fauna book that has been written, and sentences – that I’ve seen in other books and presentations – kept ringing bells with me (I tend to use my fish ID books quite hard, trying to wring out every last fact from the one-paragraph descriptions accompanying the photos). The authors in fact collaborated on the handy Two Oceans guide, which keeps getting better with each new edition and is indispensible for the travelling South African diver.

I learned that the presence of plough shells on a beach generally indicates that it is safe for swimming – these little snails surf in the waves using their large feet as a sail, and if there were rip currents they would be drawn offshore and lost. Their activities on fish Hoek beach are shown to great effect in the BBC’s The Blue Planet series.
I loved learning how Rocky Bank protects the western side of False Bay to some extent, slowing down the swells as they enter the bay and causing them to focus their power somewhere near the Steenbras River mouth on the opposite side of the bay.
I loved learning about limpets’ “home scars” – the spot on the rock that fits their shell perfectly, and that they somehow return to over and over after foraging for food – and how some species tend little gardens of algae, encouraging its growth by mowing paths in it (and getting fed at the same time). Simple things like the effects of strong or harsh wave action on the slope and sand type of a beach, and as a result the type of life that thrives there, were also fascinating.
I learned that 30 years ago (when this book was published) overfishing was already a serious, serious problem.

You can obtain a copy by scouring secondhand book stores, Amazon.com, and Amazon.co.uk.

Dive sites: SS Lusitania

According to Peter Southwood, on the wikivoyage page for the SS Lusitania,

The wreck of the Lusitania is considered by many Cape Town divers to be one of the top wreck dives of the region. It is fairly deep, the wreck is quite broken up, but still interesting, with a number of identifiable components, and the visibility is often quite good. However, it is a physically challenging dive, quite a distance from the launch sites, and conditions are not often suitable, so it is not dived very often. No doubt these factors add to the mystique.

Tony and I had heard about the mystique surrounding this wreck, but because we hadn’t had an opportunity to dive it since he’s been in Cape Town (about two years now) we didn’t know much about it. Beautiful weather in the middle of winter provided an opportunity to take the long boat ride out of False Bay, past Cape Point, and further south to Bellows Rock. Bellows Rock is named for the way in which the water smashes over the top of it, and the break is apparently visible from Macassar – at the northern end of False Bay – when the swell is large.

The ship is now very broken up, after 100 years lying below Bellows Rock

Wreckage lies tumbled among the smooth rocks

Here and there are brass fittings and window frames

Railings (perhaps) from the SS Lusitania

Rocky reef on which the SS Lusitania is lying

The Lusitania was a large Portuguese liner that ran aground on Bellows Rock in late April 1911, carrying about 800 passengers. All but eight survived (a lifeboat capsized), and after a few days the ship slid down the side of Bellows Rock to where it now lies in 37 metres of water. A light Nitrox mix will help increase dive times here. She’s an old wreck – as old as the Clan Stuart – and very broken up. The wreckage is readily discernible, however, because it is not very encrusted with marine life at all. The surrounding reef, made up of granite boulders with a some nice holes, overhangs and places to look underneath, is very colourful and well encrusted with sponges. There are also massive numbers of West coast rock lobster!

Strawberry sea anemones on the SS Lusitania

Sponges and soft corals on the SS Lusitania wreck site

Grant gave us a bone-chilling briefing that had me convinced (if one of the other divers on the boat hadn’t done it already by telling me with dewy eyes that this was “the Mount Everest of diving”) that this is quite a higher grade dive that requires wits, fitness and no small measure of courage for a scaredy-cat like me. The wreck lies right next to Bellows Rock, which is surrounded by a large area of breaking waves and white water. Descents at this site must be rapid – no messing around on the surface doing buddy checks (“PADI stuff”, as Grant called it once) – and descents are equally demanding. There’s usually a current pushing towards the north west, and this will force one onto the rock unless you take care. Grant advised us to swim gently in a north easterly direction (more or less across the current) as we ascended, and to do our safety stops at eight metres instead of the usual five. He warned us not to surface if we saw white water above us. He told us that he has “survived” being washed over Bellows Rock itself, but that it’s not an experience one wants to have unless it’s absolutely necessary.

The ride out to Bellows Rock is magnificent, and takes about 20-25 minutes at the speed Grant drives (very fast). The sea was nice and flat inside False Bay, but outside the bay there was a small swell. Even though it was only 2-3 metres, Bellows Rock and surrounds looked like a terrifying whirlpool to me. Grant couldn’t drop a shot line onto the wreck because it would get washed over the rock (and presumably have to stay there forever, which would be an inconvenience). The plan was for us to enter the water in two groups. The first group kitted up, and Grant drove the boat as close as he dared to the white water around the rock, so that we were right over the wreck. He counted down, slowed the boat to a crawl, and the divers were gone. As soon as they rolled off he drove away so that the second group – me, Tony, Cecil and Ivan – could get ready.

Kitting up on the boat (that's not us!) — Kitting up on the boat (that’s not us!)

Our entry probably looked just as scary, but I wasn’t actually looking at the water! Next time I do this dive I’d take more weight – for deep dives my preferred weighting is marginal and I have to swim down the first 3-5 metres; this wasn’t ideal for this dive, and because I was anxious about getting down quickly, I breathed too fast and struggled to sink! Once we were in, however, everything was fine.

The Lusitania was a 5 557 ton vessel, very large. There are big, complete pieces of wreckage scattered about, but very little actual structure remains. Close to Bellows Rock – which drops off precipitously below the water line – are lots of interesting bits and pieces, but getting there and away is difficult because of the current. We spent some time exploring the edge of the wreck furthest from Bellows Rock, and then swam slightly north over some rocky reef that reminded me a lot of Klein Tafelberg Reef in Hout Bay.

Our ascent was uneventful – we followed instructions, did a deep safety stop, and surfaced a safe distance from Bellows Rock. The water was very clean, and very cold, but as we moved further towards the entrance to False Bay the visibility declined somewhat. I’d like to dive this wreck again, but conditions have to be very special – with almost no swell and no wind – for it to be safe. I feel like a Philistine for admitting that the challenging nature of this dive was not compensated for by the specialness of the dive site itself, although it is without doubt a very interesting and varied dive.

A torch reveals the colours of the soft corals all over the site

The boat ride back past Cape Point and along the eastern shore of the Cape Point Nature Reserve was beautiful. We saw several whales, a sunfish (briefly), seabirds, and – for most of the trip – the ocean floor beneath us, as the water was crystal clear. It was, as Cecil said, an absolute treat and a wonderful way to spend a morning (all of it, even the death-defying leaps from a slow-moving boat!).

Dive date: 16 July 2011

Air temperature: 21 degrees

Water temperature: 14 degrees

Maximum depth: 37.0 metres

Visibility: 12 metres

Dive duration: 36 minutes

Tony managing the reel at the safety stop

Dive sites: SS Clan Stuart

If you’ve ever driven to Simon’s Town along the False Bay coastal road, you’ll have passed the wreck of the SS Clan Stuart on your left. The engine block sticks out of the water at low tide, and only the highest spring tides come close to covering it. The steamer ran aground during a summer gale in late 1914 after dragging her anchor. She was carrying a cargo of coal, all of which was salvaged I think.

Tony getting the gear ready before the dive

The site is quite exposed, and will never boast 20 metre visibility, but on a good day with a calm sea, low swell and the correct prevailing wind direction you can be very lucky (as we were)! The entry is quite hard work. The one we usually use is to park on the roadside outside the old oil refinery and naval graveyard, and kit up there. Walk across the road, climb the low brick wall and find a route down the dunes to the railway line. Take care as the railway line is now in use. Cross the tracks and use the large cement walkway/staircase to get down to the beach. The last step is high – I found it easier to go left over the big boulders on the way down, but on the way up this is too difficult.

Tony films fish under the boiler (his light on the right)

Once on the beach, you can walk to opposite the engine block. The wreck runs nearly parallel with the shore about 40 metres in each direction from the engine block, so you’ll actually hit it almost certainly, wherever you get in. Watch out for the wave on the beach – sometimes it looks small, but with scuba kit on your back you’re heavy and unstable and in a big swell you can get nicely tumbled. Make sure your BCD is inflated before you brave the breakers – you might even want to go so far as to put your regulator in your mouth before you set out. As soon as you are through the waves, put your fins on and swim out into deeper water away from the surf zone. Don’t mess around here – it can spoil (or prematurely terminate) your dive!

The Clan Stuart was made of iron, and although she’s very broken up, much of her remains. The remains of boilers can be seen next to the engine block, and the ribs of the ship are clearly visible as you swim along her length. There are ragged bits of metal decking, and some bollards are clearly visible on the edges of the wreckage.

Blacktail seabream schooling above the wreck

There is a lot to see here – beautiful invertebrate life – abalone, mussels, sea cucumbers, nudibranchs, worms – schools of fish (we saw blacktail seabream), shysharks, and of course the pleasure of swimming the length of a shipwreck! There are also ridges of sandstone to explore, and kelp covers parts of the wreck. Particularly around the engine block, the growth is very dense.

This is a good site for night dives, and seals are often spotted here which is very entertaining. The entry and exit can be a bit of hard work, but it’s well worth it and the depth (maximim 9 metres at high tide) makes it very suitable for training dives.

Kate with the buoy line in top to bottom visibility

Dive date: 22 May 2011

Air temperature: 20 degrees

Water temperature: 14 degrees

Maximum depth: 7.6 metres

Visibility: 10 metres

Dive duration: 48 minutes

Surf launching

The vast majority of the best diving in the world lies beneath the ocean. I know there are many wonderful and exciting cave and quarry sites as well as inland lakes, but in South Africa we dive mostly in the ocean. Some of the launches are from sheltered harbour jetties and some are from sheltered launch sites in a cove or a bay. Many are however straight off the beach through the surf (such as in Sodwana, where these pictures were taken). On a calm flat sea this is very easy and safe but in rough conditions with huge swells it has a few risks.

The tractor pushes the boat into the water

The best operators and boat skippers will know the local conditions well and will rarely if ever launch if there are huge swells. So if the skipper is confident you should be safe.

The ladies climb in after pushing the boat out a bit

A semi-ridgid inflatable dive boat is an extremely robust piece of equipment. They are well put together and can withstand a huge amount of punishment from the skipper and the ocean. They are also most often raced up the beach at high speed after every dive so they need to be tough. Most if not all will float despite being swamped with water, and many will stay afloat with more than 50% loss of air in the pontoons. There is most often a stainless steel keel strip under the boat and this takes most of the load as the boat is beached and trailored.

The risks

A dive boat filled with divers and their gear is stable and sits low in the water. The skipper will move people around to get the boat balanced and level and if all the divers have their feet in the foot straps on the deck it is then safe to race through the waves. Wave after wave can be punched with a boat and with the correct and well timed throttle control each wave can be crested gently without too much bone jarring. An inflatable boat can become almost vertical without capsizing but what it cannot do, nor can any other vessel for that matter, is handle waves from the side. A wave must be approached at as close to 90 degrees as possible. A huge swell can be approached at any angle, but a breaking or foamy wave must not.

Almost any boat will be rolled over by the motion of the wave. Unless you are on a keel boat (like a yacht), once over you are staying like that. A capsizing dive boat fills the air then the water with potentially lethal objects. Airborne weight belts, cylinders and cameras all have the potential for injury. Sandbanks are the most common cause of dive boats being rolled over as a sandbank stops the boat in its tracks allowing a wave to swing the boat on the anchored point (the motors) and the next wave will roll the boat over. The other cause of dive boat rollovers is a motor stalling in the middle of the launch. The sudden loss of power will render the boat poorly powered for wave hopping.

The skipper guides the boat through the breakers

There are to my knowledge no practiced suggestions on how to stay safe. If the boat is going to go over the skipper will most likely shout “Jump!” and then do so quickly and try to get as far away from the boat as possible.

The most important rules:

Make sure you know that the skipper is experienced and aware of the local conditions.
Make sure the boat is in a well maintained state.
Make sure you are opposite your gear, it is secured correctly and add a little air to you BCD. This way it will float if tossed into the sea.

Don’t listen to the loud mouths on the boat that tell you to look at the land to avoid nausea. You won’t get sick while the boat is moving. WATCH the skipper, watch the sea and see what is coming at you. This way you can brace yourself for a wave, or any other unlikely event .

Despite the seemingly ease at which a boat rolls over I have done over a thousand dives from a rubber duck, launched through surf myself as a skipper and have never seen a dive boat go over. Many fishing boats, yes, but not dive boats. I think the industry and skippers in southern Africa and Mozambique are all well aware of the risks, loss of income and potential lawsuits so boats are generally well maintained and the skippers are experienced and capable. A skipper that gives divers scary launches does not last long in a dive resort. So sit back, hold on, feet in the straps and enjoy the ride.

To dive, or not to dive?

Becoming a qualified scuba diver is for some people a dream, a huge achievement, for some just another minor achievement and for others a piece of cake. Irrespective of your comfort level when trying something new, the level of enjoyment is largely dependent on the rate of progress you make and the diligence of the trainer.

I tried skydiving once and had my first jump cancelled several times, not by the instructor, but by the pilot who refused to take-off in poor conditions. I tried microlights too and had the same problem. Diving is no different. The Instructor or Divemaster should cancel the day’s diving if the conditions are less than optimal.

Unpleasant surface conditions at the Clan Stuart

It is true to say that once below the surface the conditions above don’t always have too much bearing on the dive. Choppy surface conditions can soon be forgotten once at depth. For a seasoned diver the surface conditions are seldom a big issue but new divers and for students slowly coming to terms with a host of new skills, equipment, and the recent dive briefing are very susceptible to panic on the surface.

A stressed diver on the surface, being battered by choppy seas is often encouraged to descend: “Descend quickly and then you will feel better.” This is far from the truth. Descending a near-panicked diver or even a highly stressed diver is the wrong choice. Put them back on the boat or take them back to shore.

The same is true for poor visibility, which can often increase stress and lead to panic. Diving in bad visibility is a skill that will be learned at a more advanced level – an Open Water diver should not have to contend with pea-soup on their first sea dives.

Chocolate-coloured visibility in False Bay

A new diver has many new things to think about and to ensure they get the pleasure from diving they should it is important to move at a pace that maintains their sense of achievement and that they are ready for the next step before you proceed. All too often time and money influence the decisions to dive or cancel, and new divers end up going into the ocean when they honestly should not, and if they were given a choice they would not dive. A Divemaster or Instructor insisting that “the water will be fine when we are in” is doing the dive industry a disservice as most new divers never dive again if their qualifying dives were a nightmare.

Why it’s a good idea to carry an SMB

When I met Tony he was living in Mozambique, and when his visa ended he moved to Durban. Around that time we had decided we quite enjoyed each other’s company, so I flew up every second weekend to visit him. He was working at Calypso Dive and Adventure Centre at uShaka Marine World as an Instructor and Divemaster, so I tagged along on dives on the Saturday mornings I was in town. I was a fairly new diver at the time (it was September 2009).

It was the first time I’d come up to Durban to see him, and he had a student who had to do a deep dive on the Saturday morning. The boat was heading out to the Coopers Lighthouse wreck, a mysterious ship lying in 24-32 metres of water whose identity is not certain. Some people think it’s an old whaler, but there are several theories as to its origin. The wreck is thought to be about 100 years old and situated in line with the Cooper Lighthouse on the Bluff.

The rubber duck left the beach at 0700. The sea was looking quite bumpy, and the boat ride wasn’t great. I am not the best sailor, but as long as the boat is moving I’m fine. It’s about a 25 minute ride through shipping lanes, south of Durban harbour.

There was a howling current when we arrived at the site, and while we kitted up on the boat we drifted some way from the shot line hooked to the wreck. The sea was horrible – I alternated vomiting over the side (so embarrassing) with doing up clips on my BCD! Once we were ready, the skipper circled round and dropped us close to the shot line, but on the wrong side – so the current was taking us away from the line rather than towards it. I was with Tony, and his student – who was on the other side of the boat – had managed to get to the shot line and was holding on for dear life. In the current, his body was horizontal, like a flag in a strong wind.

Tony and I swam and swam, for what felt like an hour. We were swimming into the current at about 10 metres depth, but I think we were either standing still or moving backwards (it must have looked quite funny, if you were in that sort of mood). We could see Tony’s student, and we could see the shot line ahead of us, and then it just seemed to vanish. By that time the student had joined us, and the current had taken us out of sight of the line.

I wasn’t quite sure what we would do at that point, but Tony had a plan, which he explained to me later, on dry land. We descended to about 20 metres, and stayed there for about 20 minutes. The three of us were hanging in the blue ocean – no sign of the bottom – surrounded by shoals of fish. We could have surfaced immediately when we lost the shot line, but then we’d have had to spend the duration of the dive sitting on the boat, which was being tossed about like a cork. (I’d already demonstrated low tolerance for this kind of activity by chumming the local fish life while kitting up.) That’s if the boat had even found us – the skipper wouldn’t be expecting divers to surface after only ten minutes, and the conditions were not conducive to him spotting us as soon as we surfaced.

After about 20 minutes we began our ascent, doing a safety stop at 5 metres with an SMB deployed. When we reached the surface, the sea was mountainous. There was no sign of the boat, and even if it had been five metres away from us we’d have struggled to see it because of the size of the waves. Tony clipped our BCDs together so that we would drift more slowly (larger surface area to offer resistance to the current), and told me to keep my regulator in my mouth becuase the waves were so big. (It was on this dive that I discovered that you can vomit through a regulator… useful fact to keep in mind…)

Then we waited. The bright orange SMB stuck up between us, and in between gags I scanned the horizon (which was not very large, thanks to the waves) for the boat. The three of us floated there for 55 minutes before the boat found us. After being hauled aboard like a drowned rat I heaved over the side for good measure and then concentrated on my lollipop.

The skipper told Tony he’d been driving around looking for us, cursing Tony for not having an SMB deployed. We did – but the waves were so big that the boat was practically on top of us before it could be seen. If we hadn’t had an SMB, I very much doubt they would have found us without the aid of the NSRI.

Reels and surface marker buoy (SMB) — Different sized reels and surface marker buoys (SMB)

For the uninitiated, SMB stands for Surface Marker Buoy. They’re generally tubes of orange, red or yellow plastic, that you inflate by inserting your octo or regulator at the bottom, and purging it. It’s generally considered good practice to deploy an SMB at the safety stop when you’re on a boat dive – it warns other boats of your presence, signals that you’re ok, and gives your skipper an indication of where to come and fetch you.

If you get lost on the surface, a SMB is essential. You’re not very visible dressed from head to toe in black, and that orange tube might be the only difference between a very long time drifting on the surface, and a quick rescue. They fold up really small, and with a little practice are very straightforward to deploy. If you’re diving off a boat, or in an unfamiliar location, make sure you pack your SMB.