From Rust to Rock

For years and years, people have often asked me, “Hey, why aren’t you a cave diver?” and I would respond – “When I have dived all the wrecks of the world (twice), I will then think about diving Wet Rocks!”

I learnt to dive in 1989, completing my initial training dives in a quarry in England. Stony Cove is a popular inland dive location 125 miles north of London. I remember, to this day, doing my first training dives in January – mid-winter. The water temperature was 4oC (the recommended temperature for drinking Heineken), and I was in a wetsuit! When we finally got off the deck, we were guided around the lake to look at some sunken structures.
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A plane fuselage, a bus, a VW combi van and a small boat were conveniently placed for us to stumble over in the dark abyss. I remember swimming into the fuselage of the plane and becoming instantly hooked. From that second onwards, I was thinking about wrecks, researching and diving them every waking hour of the day. This was when my “Lust4Rust” was born. We formed a small group of mad keen wreck diving fanatics, and we would meet every Thursday evening at the local pub in London without fail.

Here we would plot and scheme what wrecks we would be diving on the weekend. I loved every second of it. The 4 am wake-ups, driving down to the coast while feasting on Bacon butties before we got onto the dive boat-losing all stomach contents to the ocean as soon as we left the harbour.

As we left the harbour, we battled through question- able seas before getting geared up. After jumping in, we completed 30 minutes of bottom time. Doing safety/ deco stops holding onto the shot line in the current like a granny in a gale-force wind. Then, getting picked up by the boat (which stank of diesel and dead fish - more stomach contents lost!) and navigating the fishbone ladder in a 3m swell. To the untrained ear, this doesn’t sound inviting at all, but we all loved it and lived for it. These trips signalled the beginning of, what would be, 33 years of wreck exploration (and counting).

For decades the thought of cave diving never entered my mind. I had no interest in it what-so-ever. It wasn’t until about five years ago when I was looking at images of the flooded mines off Bell Island, Newfoundland. I really wanted to get into those mines myself and take some pictures of my own. This drive persuaded me to take steps to get entirely cave-trained, as this was a prerequisite for the trip. So, begrudgingly, I set out to do my course. So who would I get to do my course? Who better than world-renowned explorer, diving pioneer and good mate - Jill Heinerth! I contacted Jill, and we were on!
Some months later, I found myself in Florida. Wanting to immerse myself fully, I rented out an RV in the middle of cave country, bought a banjo, sat on a wooden rocking chair and attempted to play that song from Deliverance. Just kidding! (about the last two bits).

We started our training at Ginnie Springs, and the first thing Jill asked me was, “How far do you want to go in your training?” Stupidly, I replied, “Just push me as far as possible until I let out a whimper. Or, as far as you think I am capable of.”

Well, that was some of the best training I have received in the last ten years! It was great. Drills covering lost lines, lost masks and loss of lighting. Swimming blind for hundreds and hundreds of meters deep inside the cave. Learning the art of touch communication, entanglement protocol, line work, and extensive dive planning were just some of the many skills I perfected during the engaging course. I also learnt (the hard way) what “Ginnie Fingers” meant, so I also learnt to swim against very powerful water flows, figuring out how to read the flow by observing rock outcrops. Not only was I pushed to the limit, but I also learnt about the spiritual side of cave diving. Jill’s insight into the formation of the caves, the water flow and all the hidden aspects of respecting the environment opened my eyes to a whole new world. Was I warming to the fact that cave diving wasn’t as bad as I initially thought?

I even resurrected my blue helmet from the shelf (which I thought was pretty cool... ...sixteen years ago during open ocean diving). Until now! It has saved my head on more than a few occasions, squeezing into tight areas.

Do Wreck divers think the same as Cave divers?

There are many similarities that wreck divers share with cave divers. These shared traits are a sense of exploration, working as a team, and precise planning. It was fasci- nating to learn about the caves, how they were formed, the outcrops, and how mud on the bottom had not been disturbed for thousands of years. I also learnt a strong sense of pride, ownership and preservation from Jill about every cave we dived. Just as fellow wreck divers yearn for knowledge about the wreck’s history, how it sunk, what its cargo was etc.

Over the years, I have also learnt about preserving our precious resources. It wasn’t always that way. When I cut my teeth on wreck diving in 1989 in the UK, it was all about “spidge” (artefact recovery) and BRASS! That was the predomi- nant pastime - getting as much brass as you could. I have learnt over the years that 99% of all the brass recovered off wrecks ends up rotting away in someone’s garage or lying in the long grass between the garage and the boundary fence! Of course, I don’t partake in that anymore. In fact, that’s how I got into photography because I was absolutely rubbish at collecting artefacts and couldn’t see the point! I just focused on taking pictures from then onwards.

Diving with some cave divers while I was in Florida after my course was really interesting. I first wanted to get back to Peacock springs and take some pictures of some of the fantastic rooms I visited. I was lucky enough to dive with a prominent local GUE cave instructor. I warned her that I probably wouldn’t go that far and would spend quite a while in one place.

Sure enough, we got about 200m into the cave, and I saw the frame I wanted and proceeded to place lights carefully. After about 90 minutes of set-up, long exposures and light painting, we ended the dive. I apologised for taking so long, thanking my buddy for her patience. One of the things she said to me was fascinating. She said that she had been through hundreds of times but never “saw” the cave in that light before.

I made a similar observation while diving with a group of cave divers during that time. For the first dive, we planned to go to a place called the “Dome Room” We planned it, discussed procedures, how many jumps we would do etc. All good. Off we went. As we headed to our objective, swimming against the flow, we entered many spectacular rooms. I had two large (15K) floodlights and lit up these large areas. We didn’t stop to enjoy these amazing views, instead, we pushed on. I guessed we would have time on the way back to appreciate these outcrops and topography. As we got to the Dome Room, we kind of “touched the back wall”, and then the sign was given to head back. OK - Maybe we would stop on the way back to check out these rooms! - Nope! On completion of the dive, the guys said how amazing the dive was. I commented on why we didn’t stop in these rooms to enjoy them. “We were heading for the Dome Room”, was the answer. What about the bits in between? The guys wanted to go further into the cave with more complex jumps for the next dive. I declined. It seemed to me that the main objective (of this group) was just in the planning of the dive and how well the jumps were executed. The visual features of the cave weren’t really discussed at all. This lack of admiration was odd to me. But, on reflection, thinking more about it, the same could be said about wreck divers solely focused on artefact recovery - Or photography, for that matter.

I went to Malin Head, County Donegal, Ireland, in 2017. I was diving with a mate, Barry McGill, who was highly knowledgeable about the area and had been running trips there for years. I had wanted to dive these wrecks for decades. When I finally got to go, I had one picture in mind for each wreck. With this in mind, I spent an entire dive getting that “1 money shot”. Now, logic would dictate to have a good look around the wreck and get a good idea of the ship first. But what I ended up doing was focusing on one area. In reflection on why I chose to do that, It was simple. For me, my personal objective and outcome for that trip were simple. I just wanted to get a few images depicting the wreck’s essence. In my experience, this takes time, effort and focus.

On one particular dive, to visit the SS Justicia. It was a 32 thousand-ton, 237m long ocean liner converted to a troop carrier in the first world war, sunk after being hit no less than six times by torpedoes. She now sits in 68m of water.

I focused on the bow section. I ended up spending the whole 40 minutes on the bottom to get two shots! But for me, this was totally worth the dive. So are we really that different?

Could the tides be changing?

Recently this year, in February, I was very fortunate to be part of a small team of cave explorers. We went to South East Sulawesi, Indonesia.
The objectives were to seek out new virgin caves, explore them, map, document and photograph them. I had never been a part of such cave exploration before and was excited about the concept. I did not take my camera on these initial dives. Instead, I mounted a small point-and- shoot camera on my helmet ( which ended up being a dumb idea on an open circuit!). I have to admit, when I got my head around the fact that we were exploring, I became a ferret, poking into holes, looking for any passageways. Although I was still scoping out possible future picture opportunities, my mindset was completely different than when I had a camera in my hand. It was fun—lots of fun. We came up with many dead ends, got stuck quite a few times, and laid a lot of line. Great times. But taking images of these places brought me the largest joy. But I get it now with caves.

Some lasting thoughts

Our geographical surroundings and the people around us widely influence our interests. One thing is for sure - what you pursue doesn’t really matter much. If you surround yourself with like-minded people and positive role models, you can feed your passion, whatever it is, wherever it is. Be open to trying new things. You might surprise yourself! I did! So seeing both ends of the spectrum, I am privileged to have the opportunity to experience different worlds and also to have positive role models in my life.

Everyone has their own objectives in their activities. The key is to match these objectives with the people you dive with. I have been actively exploring shipwrecks for the last three decades, and it is a very addictive thing. Having that urge to learn new things is equally addictive. I am still a “Rust Guy” through and through, but I am looking forward to planning new cave adventures and spending time with friends. To finally get to Newfoundland and dive into those flooded mines, which started me on this mad journey! To learn new things. I can’t wait.

We might all be suffering from current global adversities - BUT the future looks very exciting.