I don’t care how long you’ve been diving – you need some warm up dives to shake off the cobwebs. Portland seemed like as good a place as any to get into water, make some mistakes, take some photographs and get dive-ready ahead of the summer.
For the uninitiated, Portland is a narrow promontory of land jutting out approximately five miles into the English Channel. This geography provides shelter from nearly every direction bar Easterlies. In the Nineteenth century four large breakwaters were built to create one of the largest man-made harbours in the world and became a key naval port on England’s South coast. It’s an ideal launching pad for many dive sites in the wider area but also provides many wrecks within the calm waters of the breakwater that can be dived in poor weather.
It’s this flexibility that makes Portland a popular choice for both hard boats and RIBs.
I had the luxury of a small cottage compared to the rest of the club who were bunking in the YMCA. It gave me the space to prepare my equipment and camera. I enjoy the process of building my underwater camera. It’s therapeutic. There’s an element of ritual to it, a set order to be followed. However, after methodically assembling it I was greeted with a red flashing light – indicating the vacuum check had detected an increase in pressure and would therefore flood if immersed. I repeated the process and got the same result so rather than risk it I decided this wasn’t going to be a trip for the camera.
Our first dive was on the SS Binnendijk. Overhead conditions were good as we made our way to the wreck with clear skies and only a slight Easterly blowing. On entering the water and some collective faff between my buddy and I we had to work hard to regain the shot line and start our descent. The water changed from a thick milky green to an almost brown hue as we hit the wreck. Visibility was limited, at less than 2 meters.
The Binnendijk (apparently know as the Benny to her friends) was a Dutch steamer that sunk after striking a mine laid by the German submarine U-26 in 1939. She now lies at approximately 28m and has been well salvaged over the years but large amounts of wreckage remain.
After orientating myself on the wreck I felt the telltale signs of nitrogen narcosis: my field of view starting to narrow and the inability to remember what I’d just done. This must have been caused by the effort to regain the shotline on the surface. I’m not somebody that dismisses narcosis but it’s the first time I’ve felt it this shallow. It was similar to what I’ve previously experienced at 50 plus meters.
The wreck was a tangled nest of sheet metal with any real resemblance to a ship challenging to discern. It was quiet, dark and the low visibility made it lonely with barely any marine life visible. We used what must have been a mast as a handrail, following it down the wreck until it was time to surface. In such poor visibility (and with a couple pints of narcosis at the start) it’s a dive I’d like to do again in better conditions. Looking at the positives there were no opportunities for photography with visibility so poor. I took solace in the fact that my camera, still sat back in my cottage blinking an angry red, would have been dead weight to carry on the dive.
Our next dive was on the Spaniard, a popular wreck inside the confines of the harbour breakwater. With a max depth of 16m and close to the marina it makes a good choice for a second dive. We were met by equally poor visibility that quickly reduced to almost zero after any movement over the fine silt. The dive quickly descended into a rust filled fever dream as we fumbled through the wreckage enjoying the odd clear patch of visibility. The wreck was apparently a 3000 tonnes ship but from this dive it could have been anything.
The next day we ventured to Lulworth Banks and were met by equally glum underwater conditions. These were mirrored on the surface with a crisp easterly wind blowing spray in our faces as we transited to the site from Portland. I decided to pass on the day’s second dive and made my way up to Portland Bill lighthouse. It’s well worth a visit that gives you great views of the Shambles sandbank and the tidal race that whips round Portland.
Our final dive was intended to be a quick and easy option before finishing the trip. The Hartlepool was chosen as it was hoped to offer better visibility – resting on a sandy bottom close to the entrance to Weymouth harbour. The merchant ship was sunk by torpedo in 1940 and has been largely dispersed. We confirmed this point by struggling to find her on the sounder but rather than waste time we dropped in to explore. We’d definitely missed the wreck but were greeted by some fantastic marine life and some welcome good visibility. The bottom was littered with snakelock anemones (and their fantastic shrimps), velvet swimmer and hermit crabs. Moving slowly you could see the subtle movement of marine life across the seabed. It was a very British muck dive.
UK diving is rarely ‘easy’ and there’s always an element of luck to get the conditions above and below the water to line up. So I’ll again focus on the positives and remember at least I didn’t miss any good photo opportunities.
- The majority of divers stayed at the YMCA in Portland and it was clean and afforable.
- I stayed at Samphire Cottage – which was only a 5 minute drive from the marina and I would thoroughly recommend.
