Plymouth – a Diver’s Playground
by Matt Mindham

It is not often I get the opportunity to travel to the West Country, but an occasional buddy of mine, Roger, had put together a group of divers to dive HMS Scylla. Ten weeks after she had been scuttled to become Europe’s newest artificial reef, in a blaze of publicity, I wasn’t about to pass up on the opportunity. Roger had certainly surpassed himself with the timing of the trip, with the neap tides and July weather, he had picked the best weekend of the year for diving out of Plymouth.

Furious
We had the dive boat ‘Furious’ booked for the weekend, and skipper Pete and his wife also run a comfortable bed and breakfast for divers. With enough space on board for twelve divers, a diver lift at the stern and a dry changing area the hot soup provided between dives was an added bonus.

Abort
Our first dive on the Saturday morning was on the wreck of the Percier, but, unfortunately, my buddy and I became separated early in the descent and my computer registered a dive of only ten meters for three minutes before I surfaced to raise the alarm. My buddy meanwhile, had reached the bottom of the shotline, waited for me to appear and then ascended safely on his DSMB. Back on board Furious, with apologies exchanged, we discussed what had happened and formulated a more detailed plan for the next dive, HMS Scylla.

HMS Scylla
Contrary to popular belief, HMS Scylla is not, in fact, the first ship to be scuppered as an artificial reef in the UK. That honour goes to the Glen Strathallan, scuppered in 1970 by Alan Box and Jim Gill. Scylla however offers much more to the diver. Not only a much bigger vessel, she was diligently ‘made safe’ for exploration before being sunk, so divers can explore the whole wreck, inside and out.

Decisions, Decisions
With marker buoys attached forward, amidships and at the stern it’s your own choice where to start the dive. We descended the stern line and floated gracefully down onto the helicopter landing pad. My inexperienced buddy wasn’t keen to enter the wreck, so the only penetration we did was into the helicopter hanger. This, seemingly, cavernous space still contains many of the control panels from Scylla’s life in service, with loose wiring, switches and levers still operational.
Leaving the hangar we followed the railings along the hull toward the bridge, pausing occasionally to peer in through the hatchways. The railings themselves are already covered with tiny hydroids, feeding in the current that gently washes over the wreck with the tides and keel worms have colonised much of the steel plating with a labyrinth of casts.
With gun mounts, depth charge racks and missile launchers still in place, Scylla is a fascinating wreck to dive and will, hopefully, become more interesting as the marine life moves in.

James Eagan Layne
One of the 2,700 Liberty ships built by the US during World War Two, the J.E.L. was on her maiden voyage when struck by a torpedo from the U-1195. Taking on water rapidly, two Admiralty tugs attempted to tow her to shore where she could be beached, but the ingress of water overpowered the pumps and she had to be cut loose to slip below the surface a mile from Rame Head.
The JEL really is a shipwreck the way shipwrecks should be. A lot of the hull plating and girders have fallen away and now lie on the seabed around the wreck. This reef of steel has become an almost perfect environment for spider and edible crabs, large lobster and, of course, the ubiquitous tompot blenny.

Breathtaking
The wreck itself, while providing opportunity for penetration dives, is so picturesque we were satisfied to stay outside the hull and enjoyed the spectacular views through the ribs laid bare by the structural collapse. I was only annoyed by the fact that I had my camera set up for macro when there were so many opportunities for breath-taking wide-angle compositions.
Having been the only relief in an otherwise barren area of sea bed for nearly sixty years, the riot of marine life inhabiting this wreck was awesome. Nudibrancs laboriously searched for food while anemones stayed firmly anchored and allowed their food to come to them.

Cargo
In many places along the hull, where the plating has fallen away, the ribs remain standing proud and are covered with dead men’s fingers feeding in the gentle current. Lying against some of these ribs is old agricultural equipment and spoked wheels, part of the cargo of vital war supplies.
Rounding the stern we ascended to deck level and explored the thick kelp forest that hangs on to the exposed deck supports. With DSMB deployed, I was sorry to leave this beautiful wreck behind and vowed to return soon.

Eddystone
With a history to rival almost any wreck site, there has been an Eddystone Lighthouse for over three hundred years. The first was built in 1698 by Henry Winstanley, a merchant who had lost valuable cargo to the treacherous reef fourteen miles from Plymouth Hoe. Winstanley lost his life in his own wooden lighthouse in 1703, when the whole structure was destroyed by the worst recorded storm at the time.

Fifth light
The current lighthouse is, in fact, the fifth to be built on this small pinnacle of rock and owes much of its character to its predecessor. John Smeaton, a silk merchant from Yorkshire, earned the title ‘The Father of Civil Engineering’ when he came up with the ingenious design for the fourth lighthouse. Using hard-wearing Cornish granite and the woodworkers technique of dove-tailing to strengthen the structure, Smeaton’s Tower would still be standing if the rocks beneath had not been eroded by heavy seas. The tower had begun to shake quite violently when pounded by waves and the decision was made to pull it down. Dismantling it stone by stone, the huge jigsaw was rebuilt on Plymouth Hoe to stand as a memorial to its creator.

Stumped
‘Smeaton’s Stump’ remains on the reef though, next to the current lighthouse, which was lit in 1883 and below it lies a reef so full of life and colour I found it hard to believe that this was still a British dive site.
Pete had dropped the shotline on the tip of one of the rock pinnacles around the reef and we descended to the top of the kelp forest covering the reef. Dropping over the wall of rock, we found ourselves in a natural amphitheatre rising from a sandy sea bed.

Lobster Companion
The rock surfaces were covered in jewel anemones and algae of all colours, tiny sea spiders were everywhere and spiny starfish clung on to any bare patch of rock they could find. Cotton-spinners oozed their way along the sand, taking refuge in the nooks and crannies and a huge lobster joined us for a short while as we explored the crevasses in the rock.
Dead mens' fingers, sea-squirts and many other current feeders were present and large wrasse flitted around the kelp, disappearing whenever my camera was trained in their direction.

Buoyancy
It is possible to reach depths of 45m plus here, so good buoyancy control is essential, although the craggy, uneven character of the reef make it ideal for multi-level profiles which can extend your bottom time, and any extra minute gained is worth it here. The remote location of the reef, however, means it is vital to dive at slack water and the benefit of an experienced skipper really pays dividends to the diver.
The drive home along the M4 was spent in quiet reflection. Over the past two days I had visited a shiny new wreck; a World War Two casualty and the most colourful reef I had seen in British waters. It had been one of those weekends that made me realise just how lucky I am to be a diver.
© Matt Mindham, 2004.

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