The cold crisp morning of Saturday 3rd January 2009, saw 4 hardy fellows (some might say stupid), Steve, Pete, Rod and Alan, head for the shores of the Dorset coast, to brave the depths of the calm winter seas. Fortunately at that time of the morning most were still in bed so the journey down was pleasant and uneventful. At some stages of the journey however the air temperature did read -7 degrees C.
We met in the car park of Hotel Aqua in Castletown, Portland to be joined by another frequent flyer on Bicester Dive Club trips, Sharky. It appears we weren't the only loonies to be diving as there were others in the car park preparing to head out to sea.
Based on the local weather conditions we decided to venture to the shores of Chesil beach where many a poor diver must have struggled their n*ckers off up and down the pebbly beach to reach to sea. Today would be no exception.
The car park of the Cove House Inn provided a perfect location for us to strip off and kit up. Alan once again proving just why he won the P.Rick award, this time by forgetting to bring his fins. He couldn't get out of a dive that easily though and help was at hand, provided by a friendly local, Jock one of Sharky's friends, who kindly managed to find a pair for Alan to borrow (ha!).
Finally we all managed to make it down to the waterside, fin up and make our entrance to the seas of 2009. The vis looked good and we all made our decent, well almost. A lack of pony meant I was about 6 kilos underweight and struggled to break the surface. Lucky me, a trip back to the car to grab my pony, re-kit, and eventually free myself from the surface tension of the water.
Descending from what appeared to be good vis at the surface proved to be near white out at 4m, at least it was warmer in the water than it was out, at a near tropical 8 degrees C. Alan and Sharky were away on their own (see later), Rod, Pete and I, went as a three. It wasn't long before I was finning in circles trying to find my buddies. We dived on and managed to reach a depth of around 15m, how or why, I will never know. We endure the experience for about 20 minutes before finally conceding defeat and with a returned thumbs ups from Pete and Rod we headed for the surface.
As we broke the surface it was apparent once again, either poor navigation or strong currents, I'll say strong current, pulled us in the opposite direction to which we were intending, fortunately not too far from our original entry point.
As we headed back to shore we saw Alan, I signalled ok, and go an ok, back, but I couldn't see Sharky. Anyway I continued on, closely followed by Rod and Pete for our own beach-head landing. Chesil beach, If you are not familiar with it, is what I can only describe as a 45 degree strength sapping, soul destroying 'son of a beach'. I have since described my exit from the water similar to that of a penguin on a nature programme. As I neared the shore I waited and waited for the right wave big enough the carry me as far up the pebbles as I could possibly go, then I lunged myself at the beach, hoping not to be dragged back in. As the wave dissipated I quickly scurried out of the way of the following wave. Phew, fins off, BCD off, rest. I looked round to see how my buddies were doing, and they seemed to be adopting a similar approach.
Alan's buddy on the other hand, had finally surfaced some 75 yards further down the beach.
The 'Chesil Challenge', carting the kit up pebbles and getting back to the car, certainly kept me toasty warm.
De-kitted and done for the day the pub beckoned. A fitting end to a good day out.
