|
 When I was
asked if I wanted to return to Scapa Flow I was not
quite sure what to say, after all, the last trip had been brilliant and
I did not want to be disappointed whilst trying to recapture a memory,
but then again what the heck. So it was not without trepidation that I booked my place,
‘one of the last of the group to do so’.
After a pleasant journey in
convoy up to Scrabster, we deposited our 1.5tonne load of dive equipment
into a pre-booked container and repaired to the local for a well-earned
pint. Soon we were aboard
the St Ola, and becoming re-acquainted with the sights sounds and smells
of the ferry on our crossing to the Orkneys.
The sea was kind to us and Mark even spotted porpoises in the
swells, which we readily accepted as a good omen for the week to follow.
Safely docking at Stromness,
we soon had a chance to try out our teamwork as we deposited the kit
aboard the MV Halton. Then
after making our introductions to Bob the skipper, we took the
three-minute stroll to the Orca hotel, where we were quickly made to
feel at home by our well-disposed hosts Doris and Malcolm.
 The dive group were well
matched and as our itinerary had been pre-arranged we just had to roll
out of bed, consume a banquet of a breakfast and wander the 200m to the
boat to be assured of a good days diving.
Each day we consulted our dive plan and after the slight
nervousness of the first dives we soon had the measure of the MV Halton,
the skipper Bob, and the easy efficiency of a well planned dive routine.
With good air and nitrox facilities, and a sympathetic skipper
‘after all Bob is a diver ’,
we soon found that the MV Halton was more than capable of chasing around
the 120sq miles of the flow, and did so without so much as a lurch.
 The revisited wrecks were
still exciting and just as good second time around.
After the first couple of days the sun came out, and stayed in
attendance streaming down to the deeper wrecks and allowing decent
vis’ throughout the week. My
worries about the return trip seemed ludicrous as I found myself trying
to make sense of battleships 500 to 600 feet long and up to 100 foot
wide, it would take many dives on any one of the wrecks before I could
even pretend to know them. The porpoises spotted from the ferry did seem to be good
omens as all week the sea stayed flat and the islands’ weather belied
their Northerly latitude. In
keeping with the good omen theme, porpoise spotting became sport of the
week with our crew managing sightings on most days.
 With dives in the flow being
dominated by the German wrecks, we were surprised to find four modern
German gunboats standing arrogantly on station above the scuttled fleet. We could only guess what impression the once proud ships made
on the German navy divers as they visited the scene of their ‘Great
Grandfathers’ last gesture of defiance.
After watching their acrobatic recovery ‘up scramble nets’ to
their modern single gunned vessels we continued our last days dive
starting with the Dresden, the irony of the event colliding with our
consciousness.
 With the last dive looming we
were all excited as our skipper asked us to drop down like a stick of
‘parachutists’ onto the unshot wreck of the Tabarka.
Landing on the seabed we could easily make out the upturned hull
which at first gave the impression of a natural reef, however, swimming
into the hull through the gaping stern we entered a surreal world, a
world devoid of current yet blessed with incredible visibility.
The starboard side of the hulk was riven with apertures and gave
the impression of a three dimensional movie screen as we watched an
endless shoal of fish glide past effortlessly in the strong current.
The shallow wreck became a giant playground for our party and as
the light illuminated the interior from a myriad of
 sources the ship
took on the appearance of a sub-marine cathedral, bedecked and
bejewelled by an incredible profusion of soft corals, anemones and
marine growth. All too soon we made our way back to our now familiar vessel
the MV Halton, and tidied our gear for the last time. After celebrating on board with a champagne toast to our
hosts and cheers all round for Mark, our expedition leader, we
prepared to take our leave of the islands and begin our long trip home.
Could it get any better than this?
June 2002 |
