My second ever trip with Clidive was a long weekend in October. I signed up to dive in the Lake District because it was the first wild place that I was ever taken to visit as a child and to which I have been drawn back periodically. Although merely on the most modest scale and at comparatively low altitude, the Lake District displays the same thrilling and gorgeous post-glacial landscape as the summer-time Alps. Unlike diving in the Alps though, we didn’t need to adjust our dive computers for altitude diving (300+m) because all of our dives were closer to sea level. We did, however, have to consider the high altitude of our journey to and from dive sites, which turned out only to be an issue on our final dive day.
As a tourist destination for centuries, the Lake District has very convenient infrastructure for diving and non-diving visitors, whatever the weather. For this reason, Gina decided to come along, despite suffering from a bad cold. We were lucky to have her shore cover assistance and company for two days of diving; on the other day, she enjoyed a hike on superb autumnal trails around the Old Man of Coniston and a relaxing afternoon tea.
I had a vague ambition to arrive early and visit the mysterious Pencil Museum (even on rainy days, no one has ever agreed to go there!) but heavy traffic on the M6 delayed my journey. I headed straight to Windermere, where I was due to pick Gina up from the station, and enjoyed a wood-fired sourdough pizza in a restaurant alone – a welcome pause after the long drive.
We drove to Clemmie’s Cottage in Coniston, about 20 minutes away. This freshly-decorated, immaculately-furnished, three-bedroom-three-bathroom cottage, with a fully-equipped kitchen, including dishwasher, washing machine, tumble-dryer and all-matching china, was the poshest cottage in which I have ever stayed. We were extremely comfortable there.
Nick gave a comprehensive dive briefing on the Friday evening to supplement his written trip information pack. Over the weekend, I enjoyed diving buddied with Nick and with Elaine, and getting to know each of their unique styles.
I was thrilled by the bright, clear weather on the Saturday. Our first dive was at Bailiff Wood on Coniston Water, 44m above sea level. Surrounded by golden leaves, we kitted up in the deserted carpark, before a short, steep descent to the shore. At 11C, this was our lowest water temperature all weekend. The water was very clear but below 10m, it was as dark as a night dive. We dived along a fantastic slate wall, with striking features of erosion.
The car-based shore diving allowed us – Gregory in particular – to bring along many nutritional and creature comforts that aren’t usually found on a boat. We had lunch at a picnic table in the sunshine overlooking glorious Lake Windermere at Beech Hill, before kitting up in the empty carpark and descending 111 steps, according to the description [only 88 according to Elaine – she counted them! ed.] for our second dive, at 39m above sea level. Lake Windermere – the only true lake in the Lake District – has to be seen, with its splendid shores, impressive expanse and scenic boaters.
The clarity of the water, however, was noticeably worse than Coniston. Not only was visibility poorer, to me, it felt like a dirtier body of water in general, including litter. On the other hand, we saw many small fish all along the bottom and walls. We had aspired to find an old workboat at 17m and the remains of old hotel jetties but located only bits and pieces of debris. The stunning landscape on entry and exit prevented any dissatisfaction with the dive.
Straight after the dive, I was scheduled to take the van to the Lake District Business Park in Kendal, where Paul Fry from Kendal & Lakes BSAC kindly refilled all our cylinders and recounted tales of Lakeland diving. Although Gina had originally been down to accompany me, Nick decided to come along and keep an eye on me, which was daunting since I had noticed that he has a close and affectionate relationship with the van. A rainstorm on the way home meant that my first experience of driving the van has left me familiar with driving it on a range of roads, in a range of traffic conditions, in a range of lighting and in a range of weather. I was delighted to pass Nick’s driving test and look forward to getting to know the trailer next! (Nick: It must be said, Harini was bloody brilliant).
On Sunday, we planned to dive twice on the north shores of Wastwater, 61m above sea level, where we had been told of an easy dive to the Pinnacles, following a blue guide rope to a dramatic wall. We arrived in beautiful weather with a clear sky, few clouds and a magnificent view of the surrounding hills, including Scafell Pike, which, at 978 m, is the highest English mountain.
Gregory and Nick dived first. The weather gradually began to cool, as did Elaine and I, and we were disappointed to find that our flask of hot soup had been left in the cottage kitchen. When Gregory and Nick resurfaced at some distance, Elaine and I felt impatient to start our dive, wondering why they were returning in such a leisurely way, despite knowing we were waiting. As soon as I entered the water, I felt an ominous cold rush. Seeing that something was wrong, Gregory was immediately by my side, could not see any gap, but humoured me by giving my drysuit zip a hard tug. Finally, it was our turn to descend, eager to grab that blue rope – however, it was not to be found. When we resurfaced, we were stunned at how far the current had taken us, and Nick and Gregory’s slow return made more sense (we later also learnt that a defect in Gregory’s drysuit inflator valve had been hampering him all weekend). The weather had become overcast and windy and it was a bit of a swim back.
Our second descent proved equally abortive. The blue rope remained elusive. We ascended again. Naturally enough, Elaine decided that it would be sensible to return to shore. Keen to avoid the surface swim, I suggested that we go back along the bottom. It appeared to me that Elaine suddenly descended like a hunting seal, whereas my ear was dead against the rapidity. Luckily, visibility of 10-15m kept her well within my sight. When my ear cleared and I caught up with her, I got the wonderful surprise that the blue rope was right there. Doing our best to economise our remaining air, we followed the line at a moderate pace, despite our excitement. We were thrilled to discover the wall of dramatic red rocks that apparently descends to 90m, although we stuck to our planned 25m – the frustrating dive had turned fun.
Finishing the dive, on our gradual ascent to the shoreline, we enjoyed the spectacle of a collection of memorials to dear departed dive buddies belonging to local clubs, and a wooden Public Footpath crossroads marking what appeared to be the routine safety stop.
We emerged to an air temperature that had plummeted to 8C, gloomy mist shrouding the mountains, persistent rain and cold wind. Nick and Gregory gave us a warm and considerate welcome, however, wading out to receive and help us. Luckily, we were of one accord in deciding to skip the second dive, and then hot drinks (thanks to Gregory’s teabags and flask of hot water), chocolate and packed lunches revived us all.
On returning to the cottage, I realised that there had indeed been a tiny gap in my zip, which Gregory must have closed, but that my excellent undersuit had saved the dive by being so absorbent and insulating. I enjoyed making use of the luxurious tumble dryer.
Thanks to Gina visiting the supermarket after her hike, she and I had the pleasure of cooking from scratch together in the matchy-matchy kitchen: rustic roasted pumpkin, butternut squash, tomato and piquante pepper soup with crispy paprika chickpea garnish, then date and demerara microwave mug puddings with custard. Meanwhile, Gregory had brought enough weekend rations for a small army, including Caribbean delicacies, and Elaine and Nick enjoyed takeaway pizzas from a nearby pub.
On the Monday, we had planned to do a drift dive at Birks Bridge on the river Duddon; however, a flood warning on Sunday evening forced us to think again as all the local rivers were running dangerously high and fast. We all agreed to an early departure in order to gain an hour for the longer journey to Crummock Water (at 96m) and for the surface interval that would be required before we could drive over the hills in order to reach the M6.
Gina and I took a very pretty drive along country roads, including encountering a flock of good-looking sheep; however, the van was delayed by roads closed by floods, so we were all pleased that we had set off early. Once again, the carpark was perfectly situated for easy access to the entry point (although the reality for the local divers is probably the other way around). Good stone steps led down to a gravelly entry with large convenient boulders on which to sit.
Here, we dived in a spectacular, misty and romantic setting, with a comfortable air temperature of 15C, surface temperature of 17C and bottom temperature of 13C. We all found the quartz wall, in a striking brick-colour with dark, prominent veins. Again, there were decorations left by local diving clubs to spot, and also beautifully-weathered logs and tree branches . Visibility was so good on this pretty dive that we turned off our torches for the ascent.
Once more, we enjoyed the comforts of a car-and-van-based picnic during our surface interval. The worry of my old, borrowed car suddenly needing a jumpstart was alleviated by Nick and Gina’s immediate help, the loan of the van’s jump leads for my drive back to London (which luckily were not required again) and Gregory’s friendly decision to escort us in his car right up to the petrol station in Penrith while the battery gradually recharged to full capacity. Gina’s excellent navigation and conversation made the long drive back south pass quickly.
We had a lovely long weekend diving in the autumn beauty of the Lake District. We must return so that Gina can dive there – maybe you will join us next time?
