Kerensa Kernow
Who doesn’t love Cornwall?
Stunning scenery, wild places, mysterious history and turquoise seas.
North Cornwall coast. Image: Christine Grosart
I’ve been visiting Cornwall ever since I was child, including one infamous family caravan holiday where we had to take the kitten, Whiskey, along too as he was too young for his jabs and couldn’t go into a cattery...
We’d stop on the A38 to let him have a wee in his litter tray (on a lead!) and had to hide him in the Sennen caravan when the campsite man came round for his money.
Animals weren’t allowed!
During the Covid-19 crisis earlier in the year we stayed away from all tourist traps and apart from work, didn’t venture further than our home on Mendip.
It wasn’t fair to Cornwall for people to descend en mass, so we waited until the county was happily open and ready for business.
We packed Agnetha to be as independent as possible and booked some very nice campsites in Looe, Fowey and Porthkerris.
A month of lockdown when I returned from Atlantis, meant working on my new wheels.
Agnetha is my Citreon Spacetourer. With 6 rear seats removed and a wet floor out in, she has been fitted out with a removable rock 'n roll bed, curtains and now the most important thing in covid times: A Porta potty!
Now then, skip this part if you already know about campervan toilets....
A porta potty is possibly the best thing I have ever invested in. Make sure you get the green toilet chem as it is better for the environment and smells better....
Read the instructions on how to use it and NEVER put wetwipes down the porta potty (the same way you would NEVER put them down an actual toilet).
Keep a plentiful supply of bog rolls in the car (I use beautifully wrapped ones from Whogivesacrap)
Agnetha the spacetourer
These were areas I didn’t normally frequent, typically gravitating towards places I knew well such as Marazion, Penzance and The Lizard.
This was a little adventure. We packed our hiking gear, recreational diving kit and of course, our cameras.
We had a decent walk to Looe and swung by the extremely pretty fishing village of Polperro.
We treated ourselves to a little shore dive at Talland Bay with a convenient car park and a café that sold prosecco.
After an hour or so I scared Rich as he lost me. I was in 1 metre of water eking out the last scraps of gas, taking photos of snails… There is probably a reason why underwater photographers often dive solo!
After a couple of nights we moved house and set up at a campsite near Fowey. I’d never been there and found a lovely walk in glorious weather, from the app iwalk cornwall. The scenery was stunning, the water sparkling and we wrapped up a perfect day at the Old Ferry Inn, with Cornish sardines and dressed crab overlooking the Fowey estuary.
I also highly recommend a visit to the Fowey River Gallery which is full of stunning artwork, plus a trip around to Readymoney cove, close to St Catherine’s Castle.
An absolute godsend was my decision to buy a proper camping cooker - rather than just a single burner.
With two of us, we needed a decent cooker and went with the trusted brand campinggaz and it didn't disappoint. It also took up very little space.
I decided that kayaks were the best way to explore the estuary, so we hired some for the day and set off up the river, paddling in amongst the yachts and exploring the boat graveyard.
Rich was surprised to come across Loyal Watcher, now used for commercial diver training. It was a vessel he was very familiar with when he was tech diving in the late 90s, when she was then owned by Richie Stevenson.
We wrapped up the day in Jo Downs Handmade Glass shop. I left with a mirror that I’d had my eye on for about a decade! I’m a huge fan of her work and I was very proud to trot off down Fowey high street with my prize in hand!
We had been to Porthkerris before, albeit only for diving with Ghost Fishing UK. We managed to set up in a nice spot on the cliff edge overlooking the beach and had super easy access for diving and the facilities.
St Michael’s mount, Marazion, Cornwall. Image: Christine Grosart
I set about the local dive spot with underwater camera in tow. I was a little disappointed by the lack of wildlife and the poor visibility. I think the latter was caused by other divers, but we couldn’t find an explanation for the critters - there was barely anything there!
Then we went on a night dive.
In typical fashion, the cool stuff came right at the end. A super cool and very friendly cuttle fish was hunting right in front of us, using our video lights to home in on his prey.
Once done, he investigated our Paralenz which made for some pretty awesome viewing.
I was sad to leave Cornwall early and head back offshore, but work is work and it was a welcome short break in the sun.
The Epilogue
The Krnica dive team know how to throw a good BBQ.
You can’t get away with a trip to Krnica without at least one good BBQ.
Despite being in Fuzine, we kept the tradition. We spent the first day looking for this elusive BBQ and couldn’t find it. It wasn’t until several days later that we realised that the accommodation had a whole room dedicated to BBQ – decorated with various stuffed animals, of course. Robbie set to work and cooked up a storm and there were a few sore heads the next day.
We spent some time doing some interviews of the team for the forthcoming film on the project and then headed off to the local show cave which we were pretty convinced linked up somehow with Licanke.
First of all, Spilja Vrelo was downstream of Licanke – so our efforts some distance upstream were unlikely to see us popping up out of the water and terrifying the tourists. It might well link to Affluent du Charlotte, a smaller dry passage which heads south east not far from the first sump. Either way, the show cave guide didn’t know much about it.
The show cave was short but well decorated and the cool of the underground was a welcome break from the baking heat outside. We went for a drive up into the hills, almost directly north of where our survey was heading. We were met with thick forestry and a non-starter of a task to find sink holes.
Mark, Ash, Rick, Rich, Chris
We had the whole of the mountain to explore yet and it was probably easiest done underground…
We said goodbye to Rick, who had an impending date with his daughter’s ballet performance and set off via several scenic routes to Krnica. Unpacking the van was a hot and sweaty affair and we shoved various items into various bags and boxes for bringing back to the UK at various intervals.
Rich fortunately managed to get hold of some squid and chips from the café next door to Krnica dive centre as I was getting withdrawal symptoms and we headed off to pizza Kum to catch up with JP & Anne-Marie Bresser.
I decided that our last day should be spent in the sea. Ash and Mark looked a little nervous for their own reasons.
Ash did not have much experience on his rebreather in the sea and wasn’t confident in his use of a twinset, but he would give it a go.
Ash, Mark and Chris on the bow of the Lina wreck, Croatia
Mark knew this was a bit of a step up for him, but we were confident he would be OK. We sorted our gear the next morning and headed out on Santi Boat, a large and comfortable dive boat with an awning for shade and a nice bow to lie on and soak up the sun.
The two hour ride took us out to the SS Lina. She has been on the seabed for a long time and is 100 years old. She is a proper mini Titanic – completely intact, bolt upright on the seabed and the stern is 20 metres deeper than the bow, allowing divers to pick their depths. We would dive it on nitrox this time and stay in the forward area.
JP and his students jumped in first and we took our time and descended as a team. Rich and Ash headed off to play with photos and I took Mark on a gentle tour. I could tell he was enjoying himself and we spent half an hour enjoying the warm water, the view and the fish. Mark surfaced spluttering about how amazing it was and after lunch, we set off for another dive.
Mark peered down into the now empty holds and gestured if he could go and take a look. I replied “Of course” and Mark immediately went inverted and shot head down into the hold and swam about, enjoying his new environment.
I began to wonder if his ideas of finishing his diving career when he got home were founded at all. Rich took some photos and Ash had vanished into some overhead compartment to make himself feel more at home.
More sunbathing on the return journey and we cleaned up and packed, ready for another BBQ at Krnica Dive centre. We caught up with old friends, made new ones and hatched plans for the next trip. This is about as perfect as dive trips go and I would do it all over again in a heartbeat.
We cannot thank the team at Krnica dive enough, nor Apeks for their support and the gang who put in so much time, effort and money to support the exploration. We fully intend to come back soon with rebreathers and find out what secrets Licanke holds next.
Empty cave ahead
I had just lost Rich Walker...
Morning broke and the team were treated to myself and Rich arguing over our identical 5mm wetgloves…
This is normal. It’s pre-dive stress and we had to get rid of it somehow. Better with each other than the rest of the team.
Breakfast and coffee out of the way and normality resumed, we headed to the cave via the local shop, to get some provisions. The underground food was getting complaints, so Ash and Rick, given that we had very little to carry on this day, decided that they were going to cook hot dogs.
We ventured into the butchers to purchase some BBQ food for the evening and Rick sought out some European looking sausages in a jar from the supermarket.
But we needed buns. So, spotting some likely looking hot dog buns, Ash gathered up a good handful…
Chris and Rich ready to set off into sump 2
Myself and Rich got into our drysuits and it was a careful caving trip to sump 2, trying hard not to slip over and rip them. We took 5 minutes to ourselves whilst floating in the lakes to talk through our dive plan and deco schedule on the fly – we simply didn’t know what depth this cave would go to or where it would go next, so we opted for 60 metres maximum depth and a total run time of about 40 minutes from the bottom of the shaft.
This gave us 10 minutes to get to the end of last years line and another 10 minutes at whatever depth to lay some more. I was running the line again and Rich would be trying to jot down a survey behind me. We also knew that we needed to bridge the buried line with a spare spool, so that went in the kit list as well.
I would go in first and tie off the ‘good’, larger camera to the oxygen drop to give me something to do on deco. I’d take the go-pro all the way but, having lost the attachment which tied it to the new halcyon cordless torches, I’d have to hand hold it, which is a bit tricky really when laying line! I’d have to see how it went…
On unpacking the bags of ‘stuff’ I realised I had left the carefully cut out and laminated “Eurotek Divers Get Everywhere” cookie back at the ranch. Oh well, that was the least important item. And forget to take the glory marker…..
Kitting up was a relatively chilled affair. Rick helped me on with my 4 sidemount bottles and Ash did the same for Rich. We had lots of light from the filming lights, which was quite welcome and the promise of hot dogs when we came back. Mark had a good go at taking photos and video but the water was chilly and I was itching to get on with it, knowing how cold it was last time. We had a lot of dexterity work to do with camera, line reels, bottle juggling etc so opted for 5mm wet gloves again.
Next time we’ll definitely go dry…
Setting off the visibility was noticeably clearer than last time and we soon passed the oxygen bottles which Ash had placed. Going along the right wall we got a birds eye view of the shaft and could see that the line was not in a good place against the overhanging wall. Frank had doubtless had very little option as he’d experienced much worse visibility. I had a good look and spotted a much better route for the line which we would be replacing on a follow up trip if the cave ‘went’ this time.
The line was laid in 1998 and was thin and had been given a good battering by the winter floods every year since. Typically for Frank, it was well laid and belayed, just needed re-routing in the shaft.
The shaft was my worry. I was very pleased that Rich agreed with me that we would not hang about there decompressing, rather we would rattle through it and fix the deco at the bottom and the top. The mud on the overhanging wall turns the visibility to zero and coupled with a frail line, we were worried about it snagging on our multiple bottles and breakages. A line break in there would be a nightmare and pretty dangerous.
Chris at sump 2. Photo Mark Burkey
We soon met the 50% deco bottles and continued down the gravel slope to bridge the buried line. Rich set about doing this and we went on, enjoying the cave and its stunning visibility. It didn’t take long to reach the end of Frank’s line and the beginning of ours from last year. It was still in good condition and we carried on in gently undulating cave at an average depth of 38 metres until I recognised my last tie off. I unclipped my line reel and tried to keep relaxed.
Going into unknown cave is exciting and it takes experience to keep your cool. Slow is smooth and smooth is fast, I thought. I didn’t want to waste time fumbling about, so I sorted my regulator switch and tied in the reel. I signalled to Rich and he signalled back, digging out his wetnotes and compass.
We were off! The cave, to my relief, didn’t really trend much deeper.
We did reach 50m at one stage but it stayed roughly in the 45m mark. The undulating sand dunes in the floor were rippled and pretty. The left wall continued sweeping around shallow bend and the right wall could be seen about 10 metres away. I found good tie offs every 15 metres or so.
As much as I wanted to just string out the line as fast as possible, the nature of the cave means that line breaks Unknown territory right ahead are inevitable as it takes thunderous amount of water in flood. Tie offs would make future issues easier to fix. I kept swimming. The go-pro became a pain with the line reel so I reluctantly clipped it off.
My gauges began to threaten to turn me around. I was approaching my gas margins and the cave was still going… At -43m I met a gradual slope upwards with hardly any tie offs. Typical. I went a few metres further and found a slab of rock in the floor. It wasn’t perfect but it was all we had. I wrapped the line Chris reels out the line around it, cut it free and Rich and I both thumbed the dive. The release of pressure as we turned is instant.
Of course, you’re not out of the woods. Mountain ascents don’t count if you die on the way back down. But for 10 minutes Rich and I had a fantastic dive along the new passage, especially as I was now behind him and could enjoy the view with the benefit of his silhouette behind his light.
Rich was swimming about and clearly enjoying it. We negotiated the sand slope and had some bottle juggling as we ditched the very buoyant Ali 80s and got rid of them onto a leash. We clipped the 50% bottles on and did our gas switch in deteriorating visibility. We set off up the shaft. Rich was now just behind me and all seemed to be going well.
As the shaft became more awkward, we went single file. I was just thinking that it didn’t seem as bad as last time, when the unthinkable happened.
“Oh Sh*t!” I repeated it several times in my head and also out loud to myself through my regulator. “Just keep calm, keep your head….you have loads of gas to go looking for him and he has plenty of gas too…..”
Despite loads of training and plenty of “Oh sh*t” moments over many years cave diving in less than desirable conditions in British caves….nothing quite prepares you for that moment when your boyfriend is in acute danger.
I had just lost Rich Walker.
The broken end of the line flailed behind me and I stared at it in horror. We knew this would happen. A 19 year old, thin exploration line in a slightly off-vertical shaft, which gets battered every winter by floods and melt water from the mountains above the cave entrance, with sparse, psychological belays and zero visibility…add to the mix a bouquet of spent ali 80s and there we had it. An emergency.
I gathered up the loose line to stop it forming another hazard and wrapped it around a nodule of rock on the sloping wall. Trembling, from both fear and the cold, I unclipped my exploration reel whilst staring into the fog in the hope of seeing his light. There was nothing but silence and the glow from my torch. I tied in the line reel and set off to where I had come from. Rich, doubtless thinking I was trying to assassinate him, calmly deployed his search reel and headed upwards, following the overhanging wall.
No sooner had I set off down the shaft, we ran into each other. Fear turned to overwhelming relief and the sicky feeling turned to butterflies.
Rich returns with mostly empty bottles
We tied our reels off and made our way to the 6 metre oxygen drop, shivering in the 7 degree water at the end of a 97 minute dive. We had just discovered beautiful, virgin cave passage but for 5 extremely concerning minutes, it barely seemed worth it. We finished our deco, cold but relieved.
On surfacing, Mark was at the ready with his camera. I gave him 5 minutes to get is shots. Poor guy, but I was super cold and by the time Rick waded into the sump pool to help me off with my gear, I was shivering uncontrollably.
We really, really needed those hot dogs!
Ash and Rick eating the hot dogs…with bread! Image: Mark Burkey
We climbed the small boulder pile to the make shift kitchen to be met with a very sheepish Ashley, who was poking the sausages around in the boiling water.
“The bread fell in the water…” he lied.
“You mean there is no bread?!!” I wailed.
Like two naughty school children, Rick and Ash started giggling and Mark hid.
“Well, on the upside…they were covered in sugar!”
Ash had bought the Croatian equivalent of iced buns instead of hot dog rolls and we felt a little more smug.
Rich and I scalded our fingers fishing the hot dogs out of the boiling water and ate the lot in minutes.
Ash raided Rich’s wetnotes, wanting to know how much line we had laid. We didn’t know and didn’t care. Last year we only laid 42 metres at 42m depth on our first dive in sump 2. In France we had laid 42 metres on our last dive in Fourmi Perdreau. I had laid 42 metres in Garrel in 2012……
“You’ll never guess what!” Ash called out.
“Don’t!” I said “DON’T tell me it’s 42 metres!!”
Ash laughed.
“Nawwwww…you laid 99!!!”
Bloody 3m knot intervals. That’s going to change next time…..
Rich and the empty bottle bouquet
"That was a f***ing epic dive!"
Day two, and we were on schedule.
All the bottles, harnesses and lead had arrived at the bottom of the climb. Ash replaced the rope on the climb, which was looking a bit frayed. Chris carrying a dive cylinder in the dry cave Mark wielded his camera, shooting video for our short film and this was expectedly time consuming, but it was important to get the lighting and the focusing right.
Once at sump 2, Rich decided that standing still was too difficult and somehow manage to step backwards and trip over a small, sharp lump of rock. I turned to see him doing a backwards flying angel into the streamway. Unfortunately, he landed on another, larger lump of sharp rock which caused an impressive bruise on his thigh which seemed to grow day by day.
Rich’s bruise spreading nicely…
Whilst by our standards, the caving was easy, you cannot take your eye off the ball for a moment in this cave as it is so seldom travelled and the rocks are sharp and friable.
Boulders move and hand holds sheer off. Rescue from outside isn’t really an option, so the team tried hard to exercise care.
Ash set off into the sump and returned half an hour later, spluttering about having had a “f***ing epic dive!” The visibility was crystal but as expected, had gone to zero in the 21m deep shaft where mud clings to the roof and exhalation bubbles bring it down. Ash also reported that Frank’s old line was buried for several metres on the sand slope beyond the 21m deco drop, so a spool would be needed to clear it. He’d had a go at pulling it out but it wasn’t budging. To push that amount of sand upslope, there must have been some serious flooding over the winter.
Ash with the stash of bottles
Satisfied, Ash left with his bottles and we re-grouped to take some still images and a bit more video. It took 8 flashguns to light up the main passage and the results were stunning. We stood in precarious positions, looking this way and that way, while Mark composed his shots. The dry cave is big, with sharp black rocks and boulder at foot and reddish mud walls closer to the roof. There are some decorations but not many and the boulder choke with rocks the size of cars, is hot and sweaty and slippery going. It’s always a relief to get back into the streamway again to cool off.
Main passage between sumps 1 and 2. Image: Mark Burkey
Lunch was an interesting affair.
Ash doesn’t really eat anything other than Haribo and Nutella and usually opted to go without. We found some tins of tuna salad which survive sumps quite well, but this time brought them through in the dry tube with some forks this time…. They weren’t very nice but they were edible. I bought some jaffa cakes and thought chocolate and cherry sounded pretty cool, but they soon invited complaints. It seems gastronomy is an issue underground so we definitely needed to work on something better to keep the troops happy the next day.
As we surfaced from sump 1, Robbie was there – as he always is – to pull the twinsets out of the awkward concrete pumping station. Rich looked at my twinset and picked up the go pro which had been clipped off to my harness. “Ooh, that doesn’t look good…..” Water was sloshing around in the housing. I opened it quickly, pulled the battery out and Mark gave me some silica gel to begin the possibly pointless task of drying it out. The cave had killed the second camera in as many years and I was quite annoyed. Luckily Ash had one and offered it to me to use in the second sump, for which we were very grateful.
The days were always followed up by cold beers, housed in Rick’s huge ice box. Robbie found us a nice restaurant, which served up trays of delicious food…we had pork, sauerkraut, huge balls of home made gnocci and a meat stew. The local wine was superb and we always made an effort to get out of the cave in reasonable time for tea. Nobody wants to still be in the cave late into the evening so the extra days were welcomed.
I was a little nervous about the next days dive. There is always a lot of pressure. We had brought these guys out to help us, spent 3 months training Mark to cave dive, Ash had driven 2 days to be here, Rick drove down from the Netherlands….even though they wouldn’t have batted an eyelid if we had failed, we definitely did not want to let them down.
I went through my check list in my head over and over and at some point, fell asleep.
We're gonna need more lead...
Richard Walker was already in Croatia, settling in for several weeks of teaching technical diving courses once our cave exploration was over. Ashley Hiscock drove down from the UK in remarkable time and didn’t manage to get arrested once!
He brought the larger items, such as the two dry tubes for camera gear, food, filming lights, flash bulbs and flashguns. Mark and I had tested our pelicases and ‘depth proof’ camera boxes in a local quarry and they all flooded.
We decided that the camera boxes could not be trusted, so we would dive them through flooded, dry them out the far side of the sump and re-pack the camera gear from the dry tubes into them for easier transportation through the cave.
Rick Van Dijk Rick Van Dijk drove from the Netherlands and brought some cylinders and extra gas in case we needed to top up the bottles for sump 1. Ash and Rich play ‘sink the dry tube’
Mark and I flew on a convenient new flight from Bristol to Pula. The journey was uneventful and we spent the flight going through our plan to make a short movie of the project. Mark is a superb photographer but he had never really got into shooting video, so this was a great opportunity for him to give it a whirl. We spent a day in a welsh cave practising and getting camera settings and lighting right before the trip, which was time well spent.
One important job was to get the dry tubes weighted for diving through sump 1.
No matter how much you fill them, they seem unsinkable! They need a lot of lead and Ash and Rich had fun trying to weight the ex Gavin standard body scooter with two nose cones, in the sea! At least we would need 2 kilos less in the cave. Even then, it rode like a wild animal…
Christine analyses and marks up cylinders in Krnica
Robbie from Krnica Dive Centre came with us and he was in charge of making sure logistics went smoothly. He located our accommodation and did all the Croatian speaking for us. The gite style house was warm, comfy and had the best BBQ room we’ve ever seen. It was also home to an extraordinary array of stuffed animals, from bears to fighting pheasants, stoats and deer heads. It was a bit strange but caused a few giggles.
Morning from our bedroom looked sunny and pleasant. After breakfast and a plan of the day, we headed to Licanke, a short drive from Fuzine and set off into the cave.
Rick with the stash of gear.
Mark was undertaking his first cave dive, chaperoned by Rich and myself and had no trouble at all. He thoroughly enjoyed it and surfaced on the far side of sump 1, grinning from ear to ear. We shed our twinsets and started drying out the camera boxes while the dry tubes and exploration bottles came through with Rich, Rick and Ash.
Mark dives sump 1 in Izvor Licanke. Image: Mark Burkey
The next job was to inflate the Halcyon life raft. We acquired this odd bit of kit many years ago and were never really sure what it was for. It turned out to be quite useful for cave diving projects and to date, has never been in the sea! The gear stash The deep lakes were the first obstacles in this cave. Dropping heavy bottles in here would have been a nightmare and swimming them across the lakes very cumbersome and time consuming.
We worked out that the best way to do this was to load the life raft with bottles and scooter it across the lakes. Mark set up the filming lights and shot some great video of the whole affair. We set aside 2 days for the filming and to get all the gear to sump 2. Half the job was done on day 1 and we were on schedule.
Chris moving gear across the lakes using a scooter and Halcyon life raft
Bambi on Ice
My feet keep sinking!” Mark protested as he spluttered out another mouth full of chlorinated pool water. “I’ll never get the hang of this”.
A chilly, dark, damp evening at a swimming pool in Bristol was to be the first of Mark Burkey’s cave diving lessons. Well, not strictly true. 15 years ago he undertook a PADI open water course on his honeymoon…immediately followed by his Advanced open water course.
He had not dived since and admitted to never feeling completely safe with the training he had been given or the experience he’d had.
Mark jumps into scuba diving
He instructed me to treat him as a complete beginner and that matched my plan entirely.
His first job was to join the Cave Diving Group. Never an easy thing and neither should it be. Qualified divers mentor new members and trainees in all aspects of cave diving in British sumps, which are usually small, cold and miserable.
The CDG dive sidemount for this reason and the group has been doing it for a very long time, decades before the commercial sidemount courses emerged.
Mark moves on to diving in open water
Training is free, as the group is an amateur organisation, but it takes several years as there is a lot to cover, much experience to be gained and success is solely reliant on the motivation and time constraints of both mentor and trainee.
I once pointed out to a group AGM that training in the CDG was not indeed free. It costs me several hundreds of pounds a year to train a new diver…
Mark, being well known as a thoroughly decent bloke, active caver and phenomenal cave photographer, plus being proposed by me, had no difficulty in being elected unanimously. The deal was that I would train him in back mounted gear (as appropriate for this particular cave) and we would write a specific training programme for him around that.
He would join specifically for the trip to Croatia and then once the job was done, let his membership lapse. If he suddenly fell in love with cave diving and wanted to continue, he would become my responsibility and trainee. Mark felt this was highly unlikely.
The penny starts to drop
With a little time around the CDG meeting, I introduced Mark to the diving gear he would be using. It was a twinset and wing set up, GUE style and identical to mine. I walked him through gas analysis, how manifolds work, different types of cylinders, how to switch regulators and where all the inflators and deflators were. We did some dry skill runs and Mark got the opportunity to build and strip down his equipment.
Mark is put through intensive diving training and is an exemplary student
Roll on a week and Mark had driven a long way for the first of his diving lessons, so we made the most of it and arrived at the pool a little early to join the public swim before my scuba club arrived. The idea that he needed to be a decent swimmer had escaped him and the first job was to fix his comfort in the water. He was not a natural waterbaby.
Legs waved around everywhere, sinking occasionally happened and effort was overriding finesse and efficiency; All of which needed to be fixed before we even put our fins on. The hour swimming lesson resulted in a steep improvement and I began to realise that Mark takes education very seriously, likes getting better at things and more often than not, gets new stuff right first time.
I was beginning to think I could definitely work with this guy.
Mark enters a new world, making new diving buddies
The scuba club began to arrive so I popped outside to bring in Mark’s gear as well as my own. My friend Jayme, a solid GUE diver and all round great helper of all things, accompanied us to help out and shot some video to help with the feedback. The biggest surprise to Mark was the difference in how ‘We’ do things as opposed to how ‘He’ had been taught in Lanzarote on his honeymoon.
We don’t wag our legs up and down, dragging up the silt. Rather, we frog kick and glide. We don’t do our skills resting on the bottom. We establish neutral buoyancy and the ability to hover in a horizontal trim, completely still; no matter how long that takes. Then the skills are just monkey see, monkey do.
This short film shows his progress after 2 pool dives and 7 open water training days.
The initial dives were like bambi on ice. Establishing stability in mid water is tricky when you have been taught to do your skills kneeling down and at lift off, keep swimming to stay off the bottom…while doubtlessly over-weighted and negative. By the end of the hour in the water Mark knew what was expected of him and the penny was dropping.
After another pool dive, we were ready to get hold of a 7mm semi dry and move into open water. Caving in a drysuit sucks. You either overheat or damage the suit and there is really nothing pleasant about it at all.
We were very fortunate to have been in contact with Apeks, who were very happy to support Mark for the expedition with a complete set comprising wing, backplate, harness and regulators. This meant that we did not have to worry about borrowing equipment and could simply get on with the task in hand.
In Licanke, there are several hundred metres of sharp, bouldery caving so it made sense, owing to the short first sump, to cave in wetsuits. Only Rich and I would be forced to do two journeys in drysuits, to cope with the cold on the exploration dive.
Mark goes through pre-dive checks under the close eye of Christine
Mark was put through the ringer. But he seemed to be enjoying it. He was following cave line blindfolded, doing lost line searches, emergency valve drills, S-Drills, mask removal, gas failures, more fin kick finesse….It seemed like overkill for such a short sump but we could not afford to have anyone on the expedition who was a risk.
He would have to pass the sump a minimum of 8 times and although he would be chaperoned by either Rich or myself, we wanted him to have enough stability and know what to do should anything go wrong.
Mark took it all in his stride and soaked it up like a sponge. It was not long before he began to look like a cave diver.
Nah, he can't dive...
Mark Burkey is a caver – and a bloomin good one.
In recent years he has been making a name for himself on the cave photography circuit, winning several awards and his images are in high demand from media publications and promotions. Rich and I were on the lookout for someone who could take high quality images of the project and also shoot video for our short film idea.
Now, neither Rich, Rick nor I are bad cave photographers but our attempt at documenting the project in 2016 failed miserably. First, my DSLR flooded in it’s underwater tube which rendered it useless for the remainder of the trip. The three of us were preoccupied with getting half a dozen cylinders and other diving equipment to the sump and back in 3 days so the media took a hit and we returned with almost nothing.
Put simply, we could not carry the kit, organise the trip, dive the sumps, explore the cave and video ourselves doing it. Not in the quality we wanted anyhow. We needed someone else to take on the job.
“What about Mark Burkey?” Rich tapped away on Facebook messenger while he was in some far flung country teaching a diving class.
“Nah…he can’t dive” I replied, wishing he could.
The first sump was something of an obstacle to regular dry cavers. It was only 40 metres long and no deeper than 6 metres. But even so, it was not a free dive, the water was 6 degrees last time and the visibility deteriorates inevitably as the divers drag negative loads through the sump for transportation on the far side. “Well, you’ve got 3 months to teach him…..” Rich said. I did.
A Mark Burkey image of Rick in sump 1, Izvor Licanke.
But what were the chances?
First, he would need to be free for the trip. Then he would need to want to do it and be prepared to document the whole project, which we already knew was hard work. I had only caved with him once and he barely knew me. Then he would not only need to learn to scuba dive but cave dive too. It was a tall order and I brushed off the idea whilst struggling to think of somebody else.
I was bored at work one afternoon, which is a rare occurrence and thought to myself “Stuff it…he can only say no”. I phoned him up.
Mark had been to my talk on Croatian caves at the Hidden Earth conference a year or two ago and seemed excited about the project. He would check the dates, check the flights and all being well, would be able to come along. It wasn’t long before he called me back and said he was pretty much on.
“Oh…um…there’s just one other thing” I said. “You need to learn to cave dive by June!”
A hearty laugh came down the phone followed by a definite “OK!” The adventure had begun.
Croatia Calling
Croatia is a beautiful country and one I have been very lucky to visit many times.
My partner, Richard Walker teaches technical diving in the small fishing port of Krnica, Istria and I have been out to Croatia to dive in the sea and the caves on many occasions.
Over the last couple of years, Rich and I have been visiting a particular cave in Croatia, near Rijeka called Izvor Licanke. After a couple of reconnaissance trips, we explored completely virgin underwater cave last year and we were determined to return and continue the exploration.
The cave is a resurgence, meaning that the underwater passage meets daylight as water pours out from underground into the river and lakes downstream. There is a short, shallow ‘sump’ or flooded passage which soon surfaces in a couple of lakes and some huge passageways beyond. A high boulder climb up to almost the roof, leads back down to the river again and a short distance upstream the second sump is met.
Sump 2 was first dived by French explorer, Frank Vasseur way back in 1998 and he dived for 140 metres to a depth of -36 metres. Due to local politics the team and everyone else were denied access and the sump remained unexplored until 2016 when Richard and I, having spoken to Frank, extended his line with the efforts of only a small team of ourselves and our Dutch friend, Rick Van Dijk.
The slightly awkward cave entrance
With permissions in place, we were able to apply three days to the project; one for carrying the diving gear through the first sump and the dry cave to sump 2; one for the exploration and one for bringing all the gear out again.
Rick Van Dijk and the 2016 equipment stash This year, Rick joined us again and I also invited my ex Cave Diving Group trainee, Ashley Hiscock, who was making quite a name for himself to come along and help.
The previous year we had struggled with time to shoot any meaningful video and I flooded my DSLR camera in the first sump when a dry tube failed, so we were keen to have someone along to do the images and video for us so that we could concentrate on the task in hand.
We had just the person in mind. But there was a catch…
The Master Cave
Izvor Licanke is a fantastic opportunity for so many things and so many of the team.
I often look back at excursions like this and smile at how everyone got something out of the trip. Not just the push divers at the sharp end, but everyone.
Only a few years ago Rick Van Dijk was taking his first steps with WetWellies Caving underground as a totally new caver.
Now, he is caving all over France and Belgium and has become a part of the furniture on the Licanke project.
Ash Hiscock is making a name for himself in the deeper, longer caves in France and Spain and I'm quite proud to have brought on a trainee who is not only still cave diving but exploring at a high level.
Robbie Varesko is a talented GUE tech diver and is phenomenally strong. As a triathlete, he makes light work of dive kit underground. He was there originally as a minder, to look after the permits and help us with logistics but as the years went on, he was desperate to get in the water and join the project.
Now he is a solid member of the team.
Rick in Izvor Licanke. Image: Mark Burkry
Mark Burkey's first real cave dive was in Licanke. From being virtually a non-diver he got a crash course over three months with me to make him safe at least in sump 1.
Now he has bought all the kit, has become a trainee in the CDG and has been enjoying diving all sorts of sumps around the UK. I look back now and cannot quite believe how far he has come - especially as it was never intended!
Rich Walker has probably gained the least from the project. He is a wreck diver so caves are lower on his interest list. He has explored enough virgin cave in Bosnia and France to keep him happy and he's done huge dives in Eagles Nest and stunning dives in Mexico. I often wonder if there s much more that this project can give him.
He does though add a lot to the project. His maths is excellent and the bailout strategy and deco plan always gets run through him before being finalised.
I think the only reason he comes back is because there is no crawling involved...
Chris scootering out of the cave in sump 1. Image: Rich Walker
For me, this is everything I ever dreamed of and more. I don't know of any other women right now who are laying virgin line at 50m in 7 degree water on rebreathers and scooters.
This, of course, being our net move.
The project has stripped me of every penny I have earned in the last 4 years. I have literally ploughed every coin I have into it.
I've had to buy a rebreather and now scooters...cave exploration doesn't come cheap at all.
Fourth Element and Otter have also supported members of our team and Halcyon have also been brilliant in helping out with lighting, most notably the interchangeable batteries which are a godsend on the cordless lights.
Discovering part of this planet and being the first person ever to go there is hard to beat. It was so good I made a film about it.
The terms 'Adventure' and 'Exploration' are very confusing these days and have very different meanings to how I understand them.
Being out on a limb and beyond any sort of rescue is where the real adventure starts.
If somebody was there before me, it's not exploration.
Chris in sump 2. Image: Mark Burkey
That's when the fun started...
Everyone agreed that a day off was in order.
This meant Ash heading in a straight line with no wavering for a Mcdonalds.
Rick, Mark and Robbie also headed into Rijeka while Rich and I stayed at home drying out and repairing pretty much everything we own.
The next day we were ready to go again, with Rich and I aiming for one last push at the end of Ash's line.
Robbie helps Chris kit up
The whole thing was made harder by the fact that we now had another 207 metres to cover at around 50m depth. It was going to be a chilly dive.
We arrived at the sump pool in good time and I fitted the assumed faulty MAV (manual addition valve) after a service.
After some fettling it now appeared to be working. It was doing everything it was supposed to in pre-dive checks and giving me all the right numbers. It was good to go.
Robbie helped us kit up an I cannot understate the importance and value of having a diver who knows what they are doing, helping you get ready. Little things like dropping dry gloves into the water would mean dive over. Robbie was superb and a huge asset to the team. Things would definitely have been much harder without him.
Ash followed us down to 38 m depth with a Paralenz camera mounted on a tray with Light Motion video lights. He had been given a crash course in videography which was definitely not his thing, but he filmed us thus far and then handed the camera over to me and I continued filming Rich while Ash returned to base.
Rich and I continued until we met the start of Ash's line.
I was totally relaxed and enjoying myself. The visibility wasn't so great and we were moving a little slower than the pervious year as I didn't want to even get close to raising my breathing rate on the CCR.
I filmed for about 20 minutes, finally dropping the camera as the cave began to undulate significantly.
After what seemed an age, we came to the end of Ash's line and, contrary to what he had told us, the cave looked to trend immediately deeper.
I called Ash lots of things out loud and Rich began laying line while I surveyed behind, declaring we had 5 minutes run time more, regarding bail out strategy.
Rich laid another 36m of new line and the cave started to trend deeper, still ongoing, ending at 42m depth. He cut the line free and we packed up and headed home.
That's when the fun started.
Not long after we had begun to head home, I noticed my oxygen percentage was creeping dangerously high and it seemed to get worse the deeper we went. I repeatedly flushed the loop with 15/55 trimix to bring it down, but this only relieved the issue temporarily.
With only a 3 litre bottle of diluent (more than enough to do this dive several times over) I knew that flushing the loop every minute or so would mean running out of diluent - and I did.
It was inevitable that I would have to bail out.
Bailing out seems to be something that rebreather divers are afraid of and they don't seem to want to do it readily.
I had practised it many times and it was really no great drama.
We had 1.5 times the gas we needed to get home - each - plus bailout decompression gas each - so it was no big deal to simply switch to open circuit and dive home.
To this day I don't understand why CCR divers are so afraid of bailing out and if many had done so sooner, they might still be alive.
Chris carrying a Suex scooter on a KUBI scooter back pack, just before sump 2. Image: Mark Burkey
The biggest problem was the camera and light arms. Every few metres it seemed to snag on something so I threw it at Rich who man handled it home.
I switched the oxygen off to help manage the loop volume and had a swift dive home, switching between bailouts and bailout deco gas and we completed a thankfully short 40 minute decompression.
Ash nonchalantly showed up at 6 metres completely unaware of the situation. How, I don't know, but he also seemed to miss the fact that I was no longer on my rebreather!
Not spotting much amiss he carried on down to 25m as instructed and cleaned up the messy stash of bottles at the bottom of the shaft.
I fiddled about trying to get his underwater ipod to work (I couldn't) and Rich caught up with me at 6 metres.
The cause of the oxygen issue had long been thought to be the MAV (manual addition valve, which injects oxygen into the breathing loop at the press of a button) but on closer inspection and a thorough service, evidence of an oxygen fire in the oxygen regulator is likely to be the culprit, causing the interstage pressure to become very unstable. This meant that too much oxygen was being forced into the loop at depth. A high PO2 (partial pressure of oxygen) is toxic to the human body and can lead to a seizure. Nobody has ever survived a seizure underwater.
The whole unit has been serviced and the offending regulator replaced.
Ash, Robbie, Rich, Christine, Rick, Mark
Just a little swim
Rich elected not to dive this time, to allow time for his flooded undersuit to dry out.
Ash and I set off into the cave with a plan to go straight to the end of the 2017 and start laying new line in sump 2 beginning at a depth of 42 metres.
Cave passage on the approach to sump 2. Image: Mark Burkey
Arriving at the sump pool, I was having difficulty adding oxygen to the loop. The faulty MAV had been plaguing me for a while and despite repairs, was still intermittent. The oxygen injection was now not even working at all.
This was a no brainer. The unit was faulty and I could not dive. Ash was already geared up in the sump pool so, after a brief discussion he asked if he could 'go for just a little swim'.
I told him to stop mucking about and to go to the end of the line and see what happened - or this cave wouldn't get pushed out at all!
Ash sets off into sump 2. Image: Mark Burkey
Ash quickly reached the end of line, picking up a bailout stage en-route, and tied on the reel. After approximately 2 minutes of laying line, a stage was dropped.
In 3-4m visibility he got very excited about a ramp which went from -46m up to -25m but this quickly dropped back down.
In 17mins 207m of line was laid, approximately half at -40m average and half at -30m average, on a 101min dive.
He surveyed the line on the way home and we were relieved that the cave seemed to be trending shallower, although it still hadn't done the honourable thing and surfaced.
The gauntlet was now laid down for Rich and myself to get back on the horse, rebreather seemingly fixed and try to make more progress on our last day.
Chris tows gear across the lakes in the Halcyon Life raft. Image: Mark Burkey
"Puddles up to me knees..."
Rich explains why he's all wet...Video grab, Mark Burkey.
Licanke project 2018 - Day 3
The plan for the first day was for Rich and Christine to go straight to the end of their line from 2017 and push it out as far as possible.
The cave depth from the bottom of the shaft was averaging about 45m and the maximum depth was 50m. So, the exploration dive plan was to put in enough bailout bottles of trimix, suitable for 75m depth, along the line at the correct distances based on swimming speed - to allow a push dive of up to 250m distance.
Robbie helps Chris kit up in her KISS rebreather. Image: Mark Burkey
It's hard planning an exploration dive as there is literally no way of knowing what the cave is going to do. Christine and Rich had over a decade of experience each in cave systems and Chris has a geological background so it's possible to get a 'feel' for what a cave might do - but you'll never know for certain.
The team were pretty sure that they were in the 'Master Cave' or 'confluence' for the whole region - essentially this is the collection of all the water in the surrounding mountains and catchment - all coming out of the resurgence we were diving into.
The size of the cave passage and the flood marks on the walls told us that this cave takes a phenomenal amount of water in flood conditions and taking into account the other cave systems in the region, had every possibility of going deeper.
The deeper the cave, the more decompression the divers would accrue and this is far from fun in 7 degree water. Despite using dry gloves and thick undersuits beneath their drysuits, the cold was always an issue in this cave.
Rich in sump 2. Image: Mark Burkey
Rich got into the sump pool which was beautifully lit up by Mark's various video lights. Chris prepared her rebreather and was ready to go when Rich muttered something about a leak in his drysuit. After a bit of conversation, he opted to dive as it didn't seem to be getting in any worse. Chris and Rich dived down the shaft and the gravel slope, fixing some line as they went and Chris had an enjoyable dive behind Rich, using her bright video lights and Paralenz camera to light the way and film proceedings.
Chris sets off down the gravel slope, sump 2 Izvor Licanke.
The visibility wasn't great but it was Ok to progress. neither diver could see the roof or the opposite wall.
Once they approached Christine's 2017 last tie-off (she was very pleased this was still secure!) she pulled her wetnotes and compass out of her pocket ready to begin surveying - and Rich did the unthinkable.
He gave a very positive and non-negotiable thumbs up.
This should never be questioned in the water - but really?!!
He did it again and Christine, furious, turned around and refused to speak to him all the way back to dive base.
Chris, wetsuited, takes her rebreather through sump 1 and into the cave. Image: Jess Burkey
It transpired, when a shivering Rich got out of the water, that his suit had flooded almost completely.
He had puddles up to his knees!
The suit inflation bottle, usually full of air, seemed to be full of water. Salt water!
Someone had obviously handed a flooded suit bottle back into the dive centre after a sea dive and not told them. The gauge of course still read 200 bar, so we were none the wiser until Rich began injecting water into his drysuit rather than air!
There was no way Rich could dry out a salty undersuit in time so a plan was hatched for Chris and Ash to attempt a push dive the next day.
The rebreathers stayed in the cave and only the small oxygen and diluent bottles came out for a refill - as well as the dodgy suit bottle!
Back at the house, gear was dried out, 'stuff' got unpacked and re-packed, pongy wetsuits hung desperately on the line and everyone headed off to a nearby pizza place which produced the most amazing food and beer in gargantuan volumes.
Chris uses her Paralenz for a 'selfie'.
Chain Gang
Izvor Licanke project 2018 - Day 2
Ash in sump 2. Image: Mark Burkey
After the usual "what shall we eat today" faff of breakfast and cave food, all the divers went through sump one and carried the remainder of the gear including a dry tube with camera gear and food.
The divers on CCR (rebreathers) Richard, Ash and Christine dived their units through sump one and pushed their twinsets and open circuit gear through ahead of them for daily ferrying trips, with the plan to leave the rebreathers at sump 2. Only the small rebreather bottles and suit inflation bottles would come out of the cave each day, along with any spent sodalime. This was easy to do as the dry tubes were reliable.
We all carried our own rebreathers to sump 2 which wasn't as horrific as I envisaged. I had two guys balancing me over the boulders as a slip or fall would not only damage me but damage my unit. The rest of the way it was fine. The team chained all the gear to the sump and began setting it up for the push dive. A makeshift kitchen and 'clean' area was created and bailout bottles were tested and some niggles sorted out and repaired.
The boulder chamber in Izvor Licanke. Image: Mark Burkey.
One SPG had got smashed in the carry and a few hoses had developed leaks but in the grand scheme of things, that is the best we could have hoped for after taking the fragile kit through such hostile conditions. Nobody complained and just switched the parts out for new ones.
Ash and Christine did a quick foray into sump 2 to pull out the nasty old thin line that had caused Rich and Christine some aggravation last year and a thick caving rope was put in its place. This was much stronger, easier to see and easier to feel in the poor visibility shaft. Ash also retrieved Rich's search reel which he'd be moaning about for the last 12 months.
Mark set up his video station, having bought several expensive video lights for the project and set about lining up various shots for the film Christine planned to create.
Rick Van Dijk in Licanke. Image: Mark Burkey.
The priority this year was video footage, both in the 'dry' cave and underwater. We were fortunate to have got hold of some Paralenz dive cameras. Rated to 200 metres depth and small enough to fit in your pocket, they were an obvious choice to take with us. With neat video lights from Light Motion, we hoped to get some decent footage of the underwater passages.
Mark Burkey waves to his Mum after he promised her he would never go cave diving….
Can I come?
Licanke project 2018. Image: Mark Burkey
Licanke project 2018 - Day 1
It was that time again.
Izvor Licanke lay quietly in wait for the usual suspects to return and uncover the secrets that lay in this huge, water filled cave. The same team returned for the 2018 assault on the end of our line in sump 2, this time using closed circuit rebreathers.
This made a lot more logistical sense. It meant we could do multiple dives while only transporting the same number of cylinders as last year. The plan was to only use those cylinders in an emergency, in the case of rebreather failure and each diver took their own full set of 'bailout'.
Robbie Varesko, our Croatian interpreter and minder was a triathlete. He had been doing the equivalent of iron mans in Croatia and he was itching to get into the cave this year.
Robbie Varesko - an incredible asset to the expedition.
So, Rich Walker gave him his old Fourth Element proteus wetsuit (it has a gaping hole in the arse but Robbie seemed not to care - until he got into the 6 degree water!), Rick Van Dijk donated a helmet and diving/caving light and I loaned him some knee pads. He sourced his own wellies.
Mark Burkey returned with his camera and the promise to shoot more footage for the film about this cave. Ash Hiscock drove down again bringing dry tubes and gas banks. We headed up to Fuzine and settled into our accommodation. Same place as usual with lots of stuffed things on the walls.
Robbie and I didn't mess about and got straight into the sump, ferrying through the bailout bottles and the drytube and we were ready for the next days diving.
Can't ride, won't ride.
I think the last time I rode a bike, honestly, was probably age 9. I had a boys black BMX that was indestructible and I would fly up and down the hill beside my Dad's house with no fear at all.
Then he left the country and that was the last time I saw him – and the last time I ever rode a bike.
They say you never forget. I’d like to offer definitive and conclusive evidence to the contrary!
Most people give me a funny look when I tell them I used to be a jockey. Definitive and conclusive evidence below in case you still need convincing.
It was my dream career and whilst I didn’t win the Grand National (but am super delighted that Rachael Blackmore has!) I was, for a short time, a professional sportswoman.
Roll on 20 years and the ability to spend the same on a bottle of wine as I did once on my weekly food shop, has piled on not just pounds, but stones.
I was heading for a car crash. Without burning thousands of calories every single day, riding up to 5 racehorses a morning and all the hard physical graft looking after them entailed, I couldn’t maintain my weight nor my figure.
My second ride over fences, on board Clashbridane
Buying a house, a long term relationship and everything that comes with being ‘comfortable’ led to the point where I would avoid certain caving trips I once loved and dreaded black tie events as I no longer owned any nice clothes that fitted me.
I spiralled into further self-destruction – the more I hated myself the more I harmed myself by eating and drinking.
I continued to run, sometimes doing 5ks every other week. I continued to cave, sometimes carrying my KISS rebreather through boulder hopping caves. My back hurt, my knees hurt, my stiff necks and migraines became the norm.
But I was getting away with it all on experience and I knew soon, it would catch up with me.
The diving support vessel Boka Atlantis is my second home these days. The gym is not the best and most of the gym bunnies on board struggle with it.
I’ve used the treadmill and done circuits but exercising on a moving boat is always awkward. The food is amazing so the excuses just kept on coming.
I did eat carefully on one trip and managed to lose a stone. But I was still dangerously overweight and as soon as I got home, it went straight back on.
In the early spring I was contacted by a tv company to be filmed exploring a cave abroad. I wasn’t overly keen as it looked a bit gimmicky, but after some research I decided I could probably move some things around and make it work. It seemed the only thing I needed to do was get an HSE diving medical.
Panic set in. My BMI was ridiculous. Even as a jockey it hovered around 27 owing to the muscle I was carrying. You need to be strong to ride racehorses and I had never been a waif.
I was talking to one of our saturation divers one day and, feeling beaten, moaned that I had to choose which leg to cut off in order to pass my HSE medical as there was no way I could meet the BMI standard in just under 7 weeks.
He said; “I’ll help you”.
I had already decided I was beyond help. I had given up and everyone had also given up on me. Besides nobody was brave enough – nor stupid enough – to tell me I needed to sort myself out.
“You need to trust me”.
I figured anyone brainless enough to tell me to look in the mirror and tell myself that ‘that’ was no longer acceptable was on some sort of suicide mission anyway and I let him talk me into the most ridiculous eating and exercise regime ever. I more than halved my calorie intake and hit the watt bike every damn day.
I lost 7 lbs in the first week.
I kept going and the weight just kept falling off. I was getting stronger, I had a spring in my step and a smile on my face and everyone on board were confused and perplexed.
What was happening to the medic? And where had the rest of her gone?
I had bought a cheap, crappy second hand mountain bike to get me going at home. I spent the grey, mizzly winter lockdown days re-learning to ride it.
I couldn’t get up the short hill at the back of our village without stopping at least three times. Then it was two.
I came back from my six week trip on Atlantis and bossed my HSE medical – right at the point the tv company pulled the plug, blaming covid, quarantine, you name it…
But I didn’t care. I’d done it. But I still had a long way to go and still do.
I went straight up the hill at the back of our village without stopping and just couldn’t believe it!
Buying bikes, even new ones, is fraught after the lockdown boom. Added to the fact that factories were struggling anyway, never mind with the increased demand and I was having difficulty getting anything suitable in my size.
£2000 later and one Orro gravel bike had joined the family. It was lightweight, small and twitchy but I fell in love with it and even braved Burrington Combe – twice!
It’s funny how you only know what you know. I can ride a racehorse but could barely ride a bike. I can build and service a rebreather but couldn’t change a bike tyre.
I had been riding on my own pretty much to save myself from inevitable humiliation. I still make a hash of junctions and I cannot do roundabouts. Traffic scares me and quarry lorries are just assholes. Despite all that, I lost another stone.
My new steed
So, it is with this lack of knowledge and no benefit of experience at all, that I did something really stupid.
I entered the Great Weston ride on 18th July. 57 miles.
The furthest I have cycled is 30 miles and I ached for days afterwards.
I’m going to raise money for the official charity of the event, Prostate Cancer UK and use my skills as a trustee for another UK charity to raise some funds.
Those of you who know me know that I am a determined little madam – but this is a big stretch for me. I’ve only been riding a bike for 6 months and have no clue what I am doing.
The Great Weston
Knightstone, the evening before the Great Weston Ride
We did it!!
Trust me to do my first ever Sportive on the hottest day of the year!
What an incredible, amazing event and SO well organised. A big hats off must go to Darren who seems to monitor social media and his emails in his sleep. Seriously great service!
Between you, you all raised £681 for Prostate Cancer UK.
I chose this charity over my own because it was the official charity of the event, plus I spend all of my working life offshore surrounded by men. And they are rubbish at talking about this sort of thing.
I was so grateful to my friend Jayme, a serious cyclist who was more than happy to join me all the way. I love riding with Jayme. There is no competition, no macho, no ego...she rides with me for fun and we chit chat the whole way. She encourages me and is kind to me even when I'm not doing so well. I'm so glad she was there.
Great Weston Ride route
Our first stop was at the bottom of Burrington but...the queue for water was huge and actually, we had plenty so we kept going. I was devastated that there was no ice cream van at the top of Burrington Combe so we stopped a little further on for a diet coke break.
I was gutted not to have finished in under 4 hours, but given it was the furthest I had ever ridden by about 17 miles...and the first time I had ever ridden in any heat, I was just pleased to have finished at all. Thank you once again to everyone who sponsored me!
"I don't want one of your stupid plant pots!"
Ally Mitchell is a deep sea saturation diver come ocean advocate. He was on a salvage job in Scotland when he became involved with a stricken vessel full of millions of plastic pieces. He pocketed a few and took them home, wondering if he could create a way of turning them into something more useful, profitable and keep them out of landfill.
When he heard about a whale that had been found washed up with a huge amount of plastic in its stomach, he was compelled to do something on a much larger scale.
By sheer luck, I met Ally as he was a saturation diver on the offshore Dive Support Vessel, Boka Atlantis, where I work as a dive medic.
Ally was desperate to get out of the 'bin' and have his medical as he was excited about his new venture, Ocean Plastic Pots. He knew I was involved in recovering lost fishing nets or 'ghost gear' and we got our heads together to try and work together.
Ally was keen to come and learn to be a Ghost Fishing UK diver himself and after some head scratching over diaries, we found some dates that worked in the North.
Boka Atlantis
We based the course at St Abbs, where fortuitously another diver medic and ex commercial diver, Danny Wright, had just bought a house and dive boat operation.
It seemed a perfect location to run the 3 day Ghost Fishing UK course.
Also joining us was a well know figure in the world of technical diving; Garry Dallas. Affectionately known in the industry as 'Sidemount Bob' Garry had a good reputation and is a thoroughly nice bloke too. He had been knocking on the door of Ghost Fishing UK for years, keen to do something proactive for the ocean and we let him in.
The third student was a lovely chap called Alan Paice who lived locally in Dunbar.
A tidy diver with a strong safety and team diving ethos, he was a doddle to train and a pleasure to have along.
His local knowledge and spare kit also came in extremely handy!
Ally, Christine, Danny, Garry, Alan.
Day 1 and the North east weather was sending brown waves over the harbour wall. This wasn't good. My bailout plan for the course was always Capernwray quarry in Lancashire but that was a real nuisance for everyone to up sticks and move. Plus, we had a smashing B&B in St Abbs with Danny and his wife Sally at St Abbs Charters.
Alan knew of a quarry somewhat closer that was deep enough for what we needed and had little enough visibility to provide a challenge!
Each diver had their own challenges to overcome. Ally had done hundreds of dives to silly depths in excess of 100 metres, but in a completely different style which was alien to how we do things. He had to analyse his own gas, plan his own dives and obtain neutral buoyancy pretty quickly.
Fortunately, he is a very fast learner and by the final day was hungry to learn how to flipper backwards and was doing out of gas, neutrally buoyant ascents on an SMB and a long hose. I was chuffed with him.
Garry was a senior instructor in several disciplines so his biggest challenge was to become part of a team again - something he appeared to enjoy.
Alan had not done that much 'working' underwater so he got stuck in with cutting, lifting and managing ghost gear for the first time.
The team progressed rapidly and it was a pleasure to invite Ally to deliver a talk on plastic recycling and the hurdles he had to overcome from pollutants to red tape.
Ally hunts for treasure in the harbour bins…
A visit to St Abbs harbour part way through the course seemed apt and it wasn't long before Glaswegian Ally had his face in a rubbish bin, picking out old fishing gear scraps and telling us all about their properties, recyclability (or not) and what he could do with them.
To learn more about Ocean Plastic Pots, check out a recent blog from Ghost Fishing UK. You can also grab your Christmas gifts now from the website.
Follow Garry Dallas on his first mission with the northern team at Ghost Fishing UK HERE
Alan, Ally, Christine, Garry
Our favourite things: Ocean Plastic Pot; Paralenz dive camera; Halcyon Dive Systems SMB.
Offshore Life - A Man's World?
In 2016 I made the decision to leave the NHS full time and embark on an ambition I'd long held to work offshore.
I can't really tell you why I found it appealing. I guess I just like to do cool stuff that not many people get to do. And as a side effect, stuff that not many women do.
How I travel to work
When I was a teenager I remember a tv series called 'Roughnecks'.
It was a bit cringey but at the time I thought it looked definitely interesting. While I was still working in horse racing, I started studying Geosciences with the Open University and started exploring different work avenues. That all got put aside though when I got into the ambulance service, so now I'm still offshore but in a different role - Offshore Medic.
The North Sea
The number of women working offshore in the energy industry is still pitifully low - just 4%. It's quite normal for me to be the only woman on a vessel or platform and as a rule, out of 100 people on board, only 4 or 5 will be women and most of those will be in admin or domestic roles.
I have met a couple of women who had slightly fancier roles, such as ROV pilot Charlotte Cunningham to took some awesome images of the Normand Clipper with her drone. And I have encountered project engineers and roughnecks who are women. There are several female offshore medics but this seems to be the only role where numbers are on the increase.
I have never encountered any issues offshore being female and it is actually a very pleasant, uncomplicated environment.
Dive Support Vessel: Bibby Polaris
Towards the end of 2017 I got the job I had wanted for a long while - dive medic on a DSV, Bibby Polaris.
This involved doing medicals for saturation divers who lived in dive chambers for up to a month at a time and spent most of that time at depths between 90 and 110 metres.
It takes them around 4 days to come back to ambient pressure again and as well as looking after the vessel crew and contractors, I'm also there to manage any problems the divers may have.
Early this year (2018) I was keen to get onto a production platform. My opportunity came in March when I was sent to Norwich (no change out of a 6 hour drive) to fly to the Indefatigable field and join the 23 Alpha gas production platform. It was my first flight in an offshore helicopter and I felt a real knot in my stomach and an overwhelming sense of excitement, relief, who knows...but it had been my ambition for so long and now here I was, all dressed up in my survival suit and life jacket with EBS (Emergency Breathing System) walking out in among a full compliment of guys (no girls on this flight) and stepping onto the chopper.
The sea was like glass and was sparkling. We flew in glorious sunshine over huge wind farms and the various vessels down below left white streaks of wake behind them.
I strained to see out of the window to see the platform come into view.
Nope, not ours....next one.... The helicopters often do several pick ups from neighbouring platforms so I had to wait for our turn.
The chopper slows down to a crawl on the approach and the helideck crew surround the helicopter ready to pounce if something goes wrong. I located my bags and an old gentleman kindly took one of them down the stairs for me. I thought this was just a bit of old fashioned chivalry and didn't mind...until I realised I was the only one with two bags! I had to keep one hand free for the hand rail so it was good to know I was an equal!
I loved my time on Inde 23A and the guys had been on there a long time and were super friendly and helpful.
It was a bit of an HSE role as well as medical so I muddled through what I could. On my last day the OIM (platform boss) sprang an 'Emergency' drill on us and myself and the first aid and fire team were heading over to the middle platform to deal with an injury following a gas leak.
It was good fun and I was sad to leave.
I appeared to be up and running and as my ambulance shifts got fewer and fewer, my job opportunities offshore increased. I did a short stint on a 'Walk to Work' vessel Island Condor, which acted as accommodation for several platforms in the south North Sea.
I then headed off on a horse riding holiday in Morocco to take a well earned break, before boarding the Normand Clipper and then heading to the platform 'Brae Bravo' for Marathon Oil.
I'm thoroughly enjoying the offshore life and am always amazed at how different the environmental concerns are now to several decades ago. The oil and gas industry is now making hug efforts to be as clean as possible, many with 'zero discharge' policies and many of the vessels I have been on have been designated the some of the cleanest in the world.
I was fascinated when watching the ROV tvs at the amount of sea life homing in on the wells and the rig jackets. on one platform, the jacket (steel support legs) had 30 years worth of hard coral growth and was basically now a coral reef. The life down there was incredible.
Claymore Alpha platform and my current workplace, Seven Kestrel for Subsea 7.
As we speak, I am on board the well known Claymore platform in the North Sea, having just finished a week on a Semi-Submersible exploration vessel. The food is fantastic and I'm made to feel very welcome. I'm in the gym every day which is something I just couldn't do when I was working in excess of 12 hour shifts on the ambulances.
Not long now til I'm back on dry land and back in the water! If that makes sense....
It's been a busy summer and there is still plenty on my to do list. Stay tuned for more, including our most recent cave diving exploration.
Life on the Ocean Wave
This is my new office.
Several hundred nautical miles from land, somewhere between Shetland and Norway, my medical bay is quiet.
I can’t hear any radios screeching for ambulances to clear, no controllers watching my every move, no drunks rolling in their own vomit – alcohol is not allowed offshore.
I’m on board the Olympic Areas, a spanking new ‘multi purpose’ vessel designed for the oil and gas industry. She’s a Norwegian vessel and I’m enjoying the copious amounts of salmon for lunch – and dinner. Having left full time employment in the NHS early in 2017 and trained for over a year as an Offshore Medic and Diver Medic, the opportunity came quickly to leave dry land and head out to the oil rigs of the Thistle Field.
View from my office
I was flown to Aberdeen by business, my hair grew long, I ate some fantastic food and the 80+ crew on board were super polite and a pleasure to be around. This is just as well as I was on board for 5 weeks!
Thistle Alpha lit up at night.
Life on board can be quite comfortable! Once I had passed all my offshore courses I received a lovely good luck gift from the B&B I was staying at, in Aberdeen. I also had a half way delivery from Helen on MV Valhalla with some creature comforts delivered to Lerwick port call! A wonderful start to a new career.
The Woman from Atlantis
Work over winter had been somewhat sporadic. I was enjoying the freedom of locum work, being able to wherever, whenever I pleased but financially it was tough.
In May I was offered a trip on the Boka Atlantis. It was a huge dive vessel and I was back in my comfort zone, as medical cover for not only the crew but the divers in saturation too.
They were diving and living at depths around 100 metres. When not doing ‘bell runs’ they live in cramped conditions in the saturation chambers and their every move is monitored. Food is ‘blown in’ through the hatch and even the toilets are flushed for them by the Life Support Supervisors.
They breathe high percentages of helium in a mix called heliox and talking to them on the comms is like communicating with a very high-pitched Donald Duck.
Luckily, I speak helium so communicating with them is fairly straightforward.
Things can manifest quickly at over 10 atmospheres of pressure and their health and hygiene is taken very seriously.
I do their medicals before they go into the chamber for up to 28 days and again when they come out to make sure all is well.
In addition to this, I manage the day to day running of the hospital on board and run training sessions weekly for both the first aid team and the divers covering all sorts from cannulation, Advanced Life Support and catheterisation to basic first aid and stretcher drills for the marine crew.
It is a busy friendly vessel and it looked like I would be spending the foreseeable future on board.
To get a feel for what it is like for divers on board a DSV (Diving Support Vessel) the documentary film 'Last Breath' is a true story about a saturation diver's brush with death when it all went a bit wrong on the DSV Topaz. Available now on Netflix.
Some of the guys in the film now work on the Atlantis and it really does bring it home that this is a serious game we are in out there.