An Account Of A Dive On The Rohilla
The following transcript relays a dive undertaken
on the Rohilla by a relative novice, indeed the student begins by telling
readers it was her first real dive. Like many novice divers here in
Whitby or the surrounding area the wreck of the Rohilla is the most
logical choice as it is the closest large wreck to the harbour. From
my interpretation it would seem that Viv and her husband had made this
a shore dive? If this is indeed true then Viv has done extremely well,
it is no easy feat to reach the Rohilla by walking, especially knowing
how heavy the equipment is.
By Viv Young
My first real dive - on the deck of the hospital
ship 'Rohilla' off Saltwick Bay. We walked out to the edge of the Nab
at low water on a calm but cloudy afternoon. This was to be my first
dive straight down to 15 feet, previous dives having been from a shelving
bottom, and my buddy was my husband who has painstakingly taught me
first to swim and then to dive over the past few years. Air on, mask
and fins fitted, a final check and Martin stepped off the edge into
the water, and, apprehensively, I joined him. Here was my first problem I
seemed to stay suspended in the water just below the surface. Martin
took my hand and pulled me down gently. Once on the bottom we exchanged
OK signals and I found that I had no difficulty in staying down as I
took a good look around. We had dropped into a steep sided gulley which
Martin had told me leads directly to the wreck. The rocky shale bottom
was littered with starfish reminiscent of a clear star-studded night
sky, and small edible crabs scuttled away as we approached them.
My early fears and apprehensions soon disappeared
as I adjusted to my weightlessness and tried to take in everything about
this new world unfolding before my eyes, silent except for our bubbles.
The loneliness of it all struck me as I swam along, being unable to
talk to Martin except by sign language. It is all so different under
the sea that you feel the urge to point out and discuss all the things
you see, as you would on the surface, but you have to be content with
just thinking about them. A porthole, small parts of the brass still
shining was suddenly visible on the seabed, the first sign of the wreck.
Visibility was about ten feet as we approached
the wreck, the grey metal plates, silt covered, seeming to blend in
with the surrounding shale. Once again a profusion of starfish, with
hermit crabs of varying sizes fascinating me as they scurried away from
us. Sea urchins clung here, there and everywhere, and suddenly we were
confronted by a shoal of small fish, like soldiers on parade as they
wheeled left and right en masse. We stopped, and to my surprise the
fish did not dart away, but ventured closer until our exhaust bubbles
startled them and they moved back almost as one.
It was impossible to take in the enormity
of the wreck strewn along the sea bed as we moved along. It seemed to
stretch endlessly, a mass of tangled metal plates and struts covered
in silt. By now we were at a depth of about 25 feet, my deepest dive
to date, and looking at my contents gauge I saw that I had used less
than half of my air supply. I was now completely engrossed in my surroundings
and really enjoying this dive, feeling more relaxed and at home in this
alien environment than ever before.
After exploring further along the wreck to
the huge boilers we ascended up a sheer cliff about 15 feet, the cliff
sides being littered with small crabs, each sitting in its home, a small
pocket in the cliff. The water became warmer as we came to the top of
the reef which was covered by a beautiful carpet of underwater flora
in shades of pink and mauve. There was more light at this depth which
accentuated the fantastic array of colours. After some minutes the visibility
deteriorated here and we dropped back down the gulley.
By now I was beginning to feel the cold, having
been submerged for some 25 minutes, and as I began to wonder where we
were, there was that first porthole we had seen on the way out. Martin
had told me that there was no fear of getting lost as he knew every
feature of the gulley, and he was quite right, although I must admit
to a sense of relief as he pointed out the porthole to me. I tried to
convey to him by sign language that I was feeling the cold. Message
received, we turned into the gulley which leads back to the Nab, past
the myriads of starfish and anemones again, and at last slowly up to
the surface, remembering my training and breathing out as I ascended.
I climbed out onto the scar and immediately felt disorientated with
the sudden return to gravity after 30 minutes of weightlessness. A few
minutes to accustom myself to the change and we made our way back to
the beach, eagerly exchanging views and experiences now that speech
was once again possible.
Diving is like a passport to a new world,
enabling me to go back in history and to explore the wonders of undersea
life. It is full of a mixture of feelings at first, wonderment, elation
and sometimes fear, but I am now eager to make my next dive.
All this took place many years
ago and it is not known if Viv Young carried forward the enjoyment
of her first dive on the Rohilla, as ever I will do my utmost to find
out, watch this space.
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