One of the better weekends of the year so far saw the BWD decamp to Plymouth to savour the delights of the West Country's diving. We were a little bit dismayed when Richard, the skipper of CeeKing said that the viz. was disappointing. "Yes, its come down this week. Might be down to 12-15 metres." Oh my. Anyone who remembers the Luis or Camswan dives would have hooted with laughter.

CeeKing is a smallish boat but has a hold for second dive cylinders, which made for quite a tidy deck. The entry and exit points are off the side and this layout offered up the stern for stowage so actually, we had plenty of room. Gretta chose not to dive, citing problems with clearing her ears, but came anyway. In the end she did enough marshalling to deserve getting her AD Marshalling signed off. Mike Smith was another casualty with a stuffy head but Clive Hancock was an eleventh hour substitute.

Accommodation was the traditional B&B. The regime was liberal with a full and hearty breakfast for all so no complaints. Except, for me, one tiny thing...

Saturday, Dive 1 was the Persier.

An unlucky ship, torpedoed in a storm on 11 February 1945 whilst taking supplies of food to Belgium. Of 5400 tons, built in 1917, the ship was in convoy. An explosion in the distance was identified as a torpedo prematurely exploding. A second narrowly missed the stern. The third, fired by U-1017, hit port side, forward of the bridge. As the ship went down, the high seas made a mockery of the lifeboat drill as boats and rafts were tossed everywhere. 44 crew got off, rescued by a smaller cargo ship, Birker Force. No-one saw the ship sink in the high seas and she was lost until May 1969. Local fisherman knew where she was, they lost nets on her. She lies in 28m, very broken but with 3 boilers intact. The guns and propellor have been salvaged. The wreck is still owned by Plymouth BSAC.

The visibility was a good 10 metres plus. The shot was by the boilers and spread out was a wide wreckage field. I have never seen so many star fish and a curious creature resembling a giant gherkin, a good foot long. They are called cottonspinners and were everywhere. The other surprise were the sea urchins. Huge white globes attached to vertical surfaces, up to the size of footballs. There were plenty of fish too, pollack, bib, pounting, bream and a scattering of rainbow wrasse, mostly in with the plainer fish so as to best show off their sharp suits.

The dive was relaxing, quite light and with good viz and no drift. At 30m, we planned 25 minutes with a stop for 2 minutes at 6m. My computer demanded 3 minutes as the DSMB went up but it cleared quickly at 6m, due to the slow ascent. We did the full stop anyway as that was the plan.

Maggie and I didn't see any crabs but Mark and Nigel did and brought it up, a good sized edible crab. The skipper produced a pot and offered to cook it. Mark readily agreed. At this point, in its little bucket death cell, the crab was named 'Timothy'. The boat was divided as to whether this was cruel or not, to boil it alive. No matter. It was cooked and half the boat tucked in and declared it very tasty, which shows what a bunch of hypocrites we all are. Jane's book of fish showed lots of crabs with names like spider crab, rock crab, spikey crab. Its bad luck on the edible crab to have such a give away of a name. Not quite unfortunate as its much rarer cousin, the 'Absolutely Delicious Lobster'.

Resting up for lunch in a sheltered bay under the cliffs, we were told we were by a known nudist beack. That got the attention of the boat. The nudists in question were a saggy, late middle aged couple who liked to sit around with their legs wide open. Gretta produced her binoculars and declared the gentleman rather small. Well, I have to defend men everywhere. If I had the sort of tackle that looked impressive to a boat anchored 150 meters away, I wouldn't be lying around deserted Devon beaches, I'd be making movies in Amsterdam.

Dive 2 was a different affair. We dived Hilsea Reef, a series of pinnacles that reach up to 2 meters from the surface. Richard advised us that they can drop down to 30m so if we wanted to be cautious, head west, inshore. The drift at the surface was so strong I could only make the shot line with Maggie's helping hand. Divers in full kit are not streamlined and I was finning like crazy and not making much headway. Once on the bottom, we dropped in the lee of the pinnacle and the current vanished. We made our way inshore over a series of deep gullies. The ridges were covered in weed like lollo rosso and were home to loads of cottonspinners, starfish and giant urchins. The drift picked up and we were being pulled down to about 20m down a wide channel so we climbed back up to the top of the next ridge. The current was swirling around the reef and changed direction at diferent depths. Now it was carrying us out at 20m off the reef with the bottom dropping away fast so we surfaced.

Day 2 and we went the other way out of the harbour to look at some Cornish wrecks. Dive 1 was on the Rosehill. SS Rosehill of 2788 tons, was torpedoed by U-40 on 23 September 1917. No-one was lost and the wreck steamed for another 15 miles towards Plymouth before sinking in 26m.

This time I was paired with Dave Jennings, who was far better buddy than he was room mate. For one thing, his mobile phone doesn't beep during the dive. Or if it did, I didn't hear it, unlike at 3am last night... And the snoring... The shot was close to the boilers. Like yesterdays wreck, the hull of the ship had collapsed. There were numerous small, brightly coloured fish hiding in the recesses plus a shy spiny lobster. We swam around the boilers and followed the collapsed deck, heading for the stern. We should have looked in the other boiler because the other pairs reported huge congers hiding in them. Clive tweaked the tail of one and lived.

At the stern, the propellor was intact but half buried. The rudder assembly lay next to it. We had tarried admiring the fish and urchins and playing with the cottonspinners so it was time to surface with a deco penalty. My Suunto demanded 8 minutes. It had cleared to 5 at 6m but this seemed a depressingly long time. However, after about 2 and a half it suddenly gave me the all clear. We waitied another minute to be sure.

Nigel, Ed and Mark had a shallow bimble over lunch. As they waited under the boat before surfacing, we missed an opportunity to all go to the toilet. Then it was on to the James Eagan Layne, a famous wreck. Rightly so, its an intact 7100 ton Liberty Ship. She was attacked 12 miles off Plymouth, by U-1195 on 21 March 1945. She was carrying US army stores plus a deck cargo of boats. She was taken in tow by HMS Flaunt and sank in Whitsand Bay.

The wreck lies up right in 17m. The bow is at 6m. Richard suggested dropping off the bow to look back at the enormity of it and he was dead right. It was enormous, towering over us with the sun streaming down through the water, casting shadows. We swam along the sea bed but it was a bit dul so we climbed over the side into the wreck. The main ribs are still solid but the linking hull plates have fallen away and you can take short cuts. Inside are holds, stairwells, decking in place. A huge wreck, what the Blackhawk would have been like. Plenty of life too. We went higher up the superstructure and the wreck went on for ever. The viz was tailing off but it was still pretty good by Gosport standards. Finally we were at 6m again and came up the DSMB virtually under a rib. Fortunately it was stationary and we could swin out and away.

So, back to the marina. We fell foul of the marina staff who told us off for walking in a bunch along the pontoons and didn't like where we parked to get the kit but we're not going back for a year so sucks to them.

So, same time next year, its booked. Plymouth is great. You Clubbies, get qualified to Sporty and see these terrific wrecks at 30m plus more, larger and varied sea life than you get in the Channel around Weymouth and Gosport. Or Stoney.