I love the Anglesey dive trips because they’re pretty much guaranteed to be wonderful out of the water. What’s not to like about cruising along that magical Welsh coastline with its majestic mountains? Who can resist having a bit of “f’ing” wheelhouse banter with the lovely Scott? And to crown it all – who can fail to have fun on a manically mad night out in Menai?
So – we chugged out to dive in our little boat and it got a little bit bumpy and then a little bit lumpy and then a little bit humpy until it was generally agreed that it was better to be under the water than on top of it. Dropping down onto the wreck of the Cartagena at 34 metros, the old steam trawler that sank in 1928 was a preferably calmer place to be with its rather splendid deck winch and trawling hoop set amongst a garden of anemones. But what goes down must (hopefully) come up and so we reappeared to find the little white horses had became galloping stallions, Ruth cried like a baby, Johny leapt about like an excited puppy in a gale and Terry heaved like a girls blouse. So – dive 2 – in the Menai – and even the Menai was a bit choppy. Dive 2 was the Bottle Run which as you all know is a dive with lots of bottles involved. On this occasion however it was difficult to find the bottom until you hit it and even more difficult to find any bottle. Didn’t stop us all enjoying a midday night dive though and we all came up saying “I really enjoyed that in a very weird kind of way”.
Diving done for Saturday, twas time to seek out and destroy a range of bottles under the misguided assumption that diving would be limited the following day. After some dodgy pasta, better pizza and the odd jug of Sangria we retired to the pub where Johny was on fire as social sec for the evening, chatting up men in strange winkle pickers and tweed whilst the rest of us ran away and didn’t tell him where we were going. The last memory of the night was a certain person flinging their bendy arm in the air whilst pogo-ing on the dance floor of a party that we gatecrashed/got thrown out of shouting “f*** diving tomorrow!”
The morrow however came all too soon and for some it was therefore all over before it began. Dive kit was unloaded and a hangover-clearing walk up a mountain followed by a starchy Sunday lunch was the order of the day. For those that had not drunk to excess however, the wonderful Welsh coastline delivered flat calm sea, pods of dolphins, a bit of pootling around Puffin Island and a nice dive on the Kincorth. I can’t write about that though – cos I was up a mountain.
Thanks to all those who danced and dived, to Scott for f’in good skippering and to Tim for trip seccing. Roll on the next Anglesey trip. With Tim Saville, Liz Saville, Johny Rangeley, Terry Manton, Ruth Hair, Philip Barber and a lot of lads called Steve.