This is turning into a bit of annual event. The yearly jaunt from Brighton to Fecamp to dive some of the channel’s greatest liners. We left from Brighton at a bright and early 7am. Owing to a few last minute drop-outs we were nine on board, so lots of space. Four from BSAC 1620, and five from other clubs.
Our targets for the two days were the Warilda and the Lanfranc. Both were liners, acting as hospital ships sunk in the first world war.
HMAT Warilda
Arriving on site we found that the water was not the usual ocean blue we expect when we are so far offshore, instead it was a dark green. It seems the plankton that cleared inshore the week earlier was making a last stand here, there were large pockets of the stuff between the surface and 20 metres, robbing the depths of light.
The dive itself was fairly gloomy and a torch was required, but visibility was actually a fairly good 7-8 metres. We swam along the broken keel of the Warilda on her starboard side, having a good look around some areas where the keel had broken away from the rest of the ship. In a few of these holes were some huge lobsters. I cannot recall even seeing two so big on one wreck.
We reached the bow and found the current whipping over the wreck. I dipped inside the bow to have a look around. The bow lies over on its port side and is fairly open inside, with two decks and four compartments to have a look around in. Many plates have fallen off the hull and so light is able to penetrate inside.
In Fecamp we checked into a delightful French hotel by the seaside the Hotel Angleterre. The hotel is best described as “charming”. After a wash and brush up we hit the local seafood restaurant and demolished plates of mussels, prawns, and smoked salmon, all washed down with a local Benedictine, magnifique!
Wednesday dawned a little greyer. After raiding the local supermarket for bread, fromage and suspicious sausages we made our way back to the boat. As we passed one of the hotels we saw the rest of the boat party catching the morning air on their balcony. We waved, only to find that the gentleman in the room directly above them was standing staring out of his glass patio doors wearing nothing but his smalls, and yes, he waved back thinking we were waving at him. How embarrassing!
The journey back on Wednesday was somewhat rougher than expected. Leaving Fecamp the sea was lovely and calm. However, the southerly wind whipped the sea up the further we got from land. Thankfully we were going with it, as it would have been awful if we were steaming into it, even so the boat was rolling heavily.
We arrived at our second site, the Lanfranc with conditions on the limit, you wouldn’t have wanted it any rougher. All but two went in for the dive. The plankton was still in evidence, and visibility was worse than the Warilda the day before. It was lights out on the wreck itself, with about 4 metres of vis. I have done the Lanfranc in 20 metres of vis, and without even considering the use of a torch in the past, so it was a little disappointing. I know the Lanfranc fairly well, so was able to navigate quite easily once we worked out where we were on her. We went the stern, then crossed amidships and dropped to the seabed. Back up on the port rail we swam across the break out into the open, but I knew the intact bow was in front of us and sure enough we bumped into it. Messrs Blackwell and Hooper were just dropping into the bow holds, but our time was up and we made our ascent. A lively deco stop at six metres told us surface conditions had not improved at all, and sure enough the journey back to Brighton was fairly uncomfortable. However, it gave us the opportunity to invent a new alternative to the phonetic alphabet. If you want your name spelled out in the new format, just ask Messrs Hooper, Willoughby, or Blackwell and I’m sure they’ll oblige. However, I doubt the new alphabet will be published in Billericay Diver in the near future as it would be heavily censored!
Jamie Bassett
This article first appeared in the September 2005 edition of Billericay Diver
