Betsey Anna Mysteriously Moved

Note: Names have been changed to protect the author from imprisonment and a good thrashing!

Five club members and an interloper headed to Swanage for a weekends diving at the end of June – Larry, Paul, Nigel, Mark, John and Mick. The plan was to tow the big orange thing there and pray that the weather gods smiled on us. By late Friday afternoon the orange thing was in the water and Paul had negotiated a cheap mooring from a local fisherman named Smigel who quickly disappeared with his tenner muttering “my precious”. The mooring was a fair way out in the bay and would give someone a very lengthy swim back. The chosen one would need to have nerves of steel, be a strong swimmer, healthy young and fit to carry out the arduous task. Larry was therefore chosen and the group collectively crossed its fingers that he would make it back to the jetty.

By early evening with the help of two tubes of Ralgex, Larry had recovered from his 6 mile swim and rediscovered his old stomping ground - the Scott Arms in Kingston, 7 miles north of Swanage. He was a bit downbeat when his old flame the landlady with the glass eye and whiskers was no longer behind the bar.               

The pubs large blackboard made mouth watering reading - local hand caught scallops in a cream and white wine sauce, loin of pork on a bed of sweet red cabbage over creamed potatoes and ham egg and chips. After the disappointment of his old flame Larry was further gutted when the scallops were off and reluctantly plumped for the loin of pork. Disappointment would not be on the menu for the Saturday evening meal as John our diving officer having fully researched the local restaurants and had been quick off the mark by booking the Black Lion Inn almost a month ahead – the Swanage equivalent to Heston Blumenthal’s Fat Duck at Bray.

Returning to Swanage for a final drink we spotted the Black Lion and thought it would be an opportunity to check out the gastro pub. It quickly became clear that our diving officer’s research had fallen short of desired standards. The clientele resembled the scene from the bar in Star Wars, the barmaid had love and hate tattooed on each hand and the clincher was the special on the blackboard of Cornish pasty with Branson pickle. By this stage the diving officer had drifted into a catatonic state and it was left to Larry to quickly regroup, march across the road and book a table at Tawneys wine bar for the Saturday evening.

The Group was split between two B&B’s “Corner Meadows” and the “Cambridge”. The Cambridge was on paper the class establishment, a place for the discerning – that was until Attila the Hun turned up - Janice the Landlady from hell. All guests had to go through a rigorous induction process followed by a set of multiple choice questions on how to open and close the front door. Mark and Nigel failed the test and underwent water boarding treatment, finally emerging at 9:30pm. Paul meanwhile had visited Dorset, Somerset and Wiltshire looking for a car parking spot.

Still the class establishment would no doubt deliver on the full English breakfast – they had that to look forward to in the morning. Well in fact no - Janice laid the law down saying that as we were out early on the Saturday she would not be disturbing her beauty sleep and would provide a packed lunch.

Saturday morning turned up a bit too soon – meet at the jetty at 7:00am – the Cambridge crew clutched their packed lunch – a mouth watering soft ham roll, penguin and banana. John and Mick turned up at a leisurely 7:15am having been awakened by the aroma of Blue Mountain coffee and enjoyed a pleasant breakfast at Corner Meadows.

The Betsey Anna is a cargo vessel lying in 25metres on a gravel bed - it’s a nice dive and generally provides good visibility. Expectations were high that we would have a good dive but after 45 minutes searching, plummeted when we failed to find her. After a lot of cursing, rude words and finger gestures we threw in the towel and headed back to Swanage only to hear a yelp from Nigel who after a short distance had spotted a blip on the echo sounder - the Betsey Anna had mysteriously been moved 150 metres to the East!

The dive was memorable for a large crab and lobster appearing from the depths. Our very own Hans and Lotte Hass alias Paul Dupret and Larry Hughes liberated these chaps and neither having a bag with them carried them around on the dive before deploying a DSMB - Hans holding the reel while Lotte reeled in – a technique taught on the BSAC Crustacean Handling Course.

Saturday afternoon we had a cracking dive on Peverill ledges which we were easily able to find – the big red buoy named Peverill provided a clue. It’s a very scenic dive with plenty of colour and life - fish, crabs and lobsters with the added twist that the currents tosses you around like a washing machine.

Tawneys was very noisy on Saturday evening especially when Mark and Nigel had finished the third bottle of Aussie Shiraz washed down with a tot of Port. A nasty case of nitrogen narcosis followed in which limbs soon moved independently of thought. On the way home the local lampposts provided an obstacle too far for the duo. Mark’s trusty white stick failed to provide the necessary information to his brain in the required timeframe and even Nigel with full sight gave one a glancing blow.

Sunday morning beckoned and after a marvellous breakfast at Corner Meadows (which included black pudding) Mick and John turned up at the jetty to see a miserable site – a hungover Cambridge crew holding soft ham rolls - no full English then!

By popular request, we ventured back to the Betsey Anna in flat seas and a beautiful blue sky and had a pleasant dive - we are pleased to report that no animals were harmed in the making of the dive.  Early afternoon we did a drift on the mussel beds under the Lighthouse and 30 minutes later we popped up just off Shoreham or so it felt – we had travelled 2 miles! It was not a dive for the faint hearted - Larry and Paul bottled it knowing that it would be too much for them but the four youngsters (combined age over 200 years old) went for it.  Unleash the dogs of war, hold on to your wigs, carpe diem, zoot alors, for king and country, arrivadecci roma etc. Anyway it was a very fast drift, touch and go but 30 minutes later we climbed back into the orange thing very pale and ashen with shredded nerves and wetsuits - We had survived by the skin of out teeth.

A big thank you to all those that came on the weekend and helped get the orange thing to and from Brighton Marina. We had survived without mishaps and the only incident to report to BSAC was a bent lamp post following Saturday night revelries.