High and Dry in Weymouth Museum

Every time I've been out of the water for a while, I wonder whether I'll ever go back.

After all, getting ready for a dive is a lot of hassle. There's all that equipment to sort out, travel to organise, and it's not as if I don't have enough other things to fill my time. Being in a new area doesn't help - I need to make new contacts and find new dive buddies.

But just as I'm getting used to the idea of not getting back into a wetsuit for a long time, something rekindles my desire to strap on a BC and get back under the water. This time it was a visit to Weymouth Museum.

An Underwhelming Presentation

As tourist attractions go, the museum is not very inspiring. Something of a random collection of artifacts grouped loosely by theme. The quality of the information panels is inconsistent and the entire collection is presented incoherently.

That said, we should be glad there's a museum at all and who knows whether it will have a future in the impending 'age of austerity'. Its neglected state is also due in part, perhaps, to the entire building being under threat of imminent redevelopment.

Despite all this, my attention was grabbed by the finds brought up by divers. Elephant tusks, pieces of a P40 Tomahawk aircraft and brass work from HMS Hood were all on display, having been liberated from the seabed over the last 40 years.

By the way, HMS Hood is not the one infamously sunk by the Bismark in the Second World War, but its predecessor. This Hood lies across the southern entrance to Portland Harbour, where it was scuttled during the First World War to block one of three gaps in the huge harbour wall.

Underwater Treasure Trove

I'm easily entranced by the historic, and quickly lured into the hands-on nature of archeology, recovering the past from the soil. Underwater archaeology, even in the primitive form of liberating brass portholes from wrecks, is an exciting new dimension.

I do feel a pang of regret at the thought of ripping old ships to pieces rather than leaving them as relics for divers to enjoy in situ, and I've blogged about it before in 'Scuba Divers are Destroyers'.

But responsible recovery of artifacts has an appeal, as does the experience of simply visiting wreck sites and taking nothing away. Historic sites have a particular resonance and those underwater are even more special simply because they're visited less often.

So while I've left Weymouth Museum disappointed at its representation of hundreds of years of human life, I'm inspired once again to find opportunities to dive in the local seas and start exploring some of the mysteries beneath the waves.

Counting the Cost of Scuba Diver Training

How much did it cost me to train as a scuba diver?

When I first mooted the idea experienced diver friends told me to get my training from BSAC, not PADI. Newcomers to diving will soon discover the friendly rivalry between the two organisations.

Other than the advice, another attraction of the BSAC training was that it was 'free'. The trainers are volunteers, giving up their time to help new divers simply for the love of the sport. (But don't let the term 'volunteer' put you off - they take their responsibilities very seriously).

The reality, of course, is that the training costs money. And to be fair, no one from BSAC tried to sell me their training on the basis of cost. I just made the assumption that because there was no cost for the course, it wouldn't burn too deep a hole in my pocket. But I hadn't thought it through.

With the benefit of hindsight I thought I'd do a quick comparison between the costs my BSAC training and an equivalent PADI course.

The Price of PADI Training

Let's start with PADI because it's easy. My local dive centre's website says their Open Water course of 8 sessions costs £379. That includes hire of almost all equipment, air refills for the tanks and pool fees. It doesn't cover the entrance costs for open water dive sites, which it says are typically £16. Given that there are two sessions in open water, that's £32 on top of the £379, or £411 in total.

The equipment that PADI don't supply are fins, boots, mask and snorkel. Think £100 for that lot, which pushes the costs up to £511.

Calculating the BSAC Training Costs

BSAC is more complicated. First there's the fee the join BSAC itself and to become a member of the local club. This includes the cost of the training booklets and comes to £175.

The first few diving sessions were in the swimming pool and the club covered the entrance fees and provided the equipment. I was able to borrow a wet suit from a club member. So far, BSAC's a lot cheaper.

But when it came to open water diving the costs shot up. The club provided the air tanks and a member lent me some fins. But I had to hire a wet suit, BC and regs (the inflatable jacket and the air hoses). That cost me £45 a day. Then there was the cost of getting into dive sites - £9 for Wraysbury and £15 for Vobster.

On top of that I had to pay for air refills. The club supplied a full tank but it needed filling after the first of two dives on each day. Another £3 or so.

Our day out to Swanage wasn't really part of the course, it was a bonus dive thrown in to help boost my confidence. It was a fantastic day but again, there was a cost, this time about £15 as a contribution to running the club's RIB, and an air refill.

All in all training with BSAC has cost me about £410.

I bought my own mask, snorkle, boots and gloves, which cost about £70. Add that to the £410 and it comes to £480.

So in the final analysis - my training with PADI would have cost £511 but with BSAC it cost £480.

In reality, the price is virtually identical. I've including the cost of fins in the PADI workings and gloves in the BSAC costs; take them both out and it pretty much evens up.

I've also ignored the 'hidden' costs of travel to and from the various training sites, as it would have been almost identical.

Which is Cheaper - PADI or BSAC?

There's no real difference in cost between PADI and BSAC, at least from my experience.

However, BSAC lets me dive to 20m, PADI would restrict me to 18m. So I'm getting an extra 2m for my money!

But diving isn't about the money. It's an incredible experience and I'm extremely grateful to the team at Alton BSAC who introduced me to the other world that's under the water.

Scuba Diving With a Purpose

A leaflet entitled "Dive into conservation" caught my eye at the recent Dorset Country Show.

I picked it up from the Dorset Wildlife Trust stand because I liked the idea of turning my new hobby into something useful.

Apparently divers are invited to volunteer for a scheme called Seasearch. It's a huge survey of the UK's underwater landscape, putting together a record of the huge variety of creatures and habitats off our shores.

Britain is blessed with an enormously long and diverse coastline. While many recreational divers prefer the warm waters of the tropics, or the Red Sea, there's a massive abundance of wildlife just metres off our own beaches. I've only had two sea dives, off Swanage, but they were much more rewarding than quarry dives because I glimpsed life in another world.

I have no idea how much diving I'll be doing in the future, but I know that the simple novelty of being underwater will wear off soon enough. I'm looking forward to exploring wrecks and reefs, but it would be great to bring some structure and purpose to my finning about the place.

So at first glance Seasearch looks like a great programme to get involved with. There appears to be some training involved, and organised dive trips. Realistically nothing's likely to happen between now and next Spring, but I can make some enquiries.

BSAC, PADI and a host of other organisations all support Seasearch, which is coordinated by The Marine Conservation Society.

One of the other groups associated with the programme is the Nautical Archaeology Society. Now that's another underwater activity I'd like to know more about!

A Giant Stride for Man

I've made no secret of my dislike for water.

Okay, let's call it what it is. Fear of water. Which is why I've struggled with the 'giant stride' form of getting into the stuff.

Scuba divers employ a variety of methods for entering the water, depending on the setting. Weighed down with our gear, including heavy tanks of air, and wearing large fins on our feet, our mobility is impeded. Simply 'diving in' isn't as easy as it sounds.

As I mentioned in my very first post, I'd never jumped into water before taking up scuba diving. Which made my first practical lesson even more daunting, because I was asked to perform a giant stride to get into the swimming pool.

My preferred approach has always been to climb down a ladder or walk down a gently shelving beach. Or simply to stay away from the wet stuff. That way I remain in control.

The giant stride is exactly what it sounds like. You stand on the side, facing the water. You put one hand on your face to hold your mask and regulator in place, face straight ahead, and take a huge step forward. The result is a fall, feet first, into the water.

You crash through the surface and drop beneath it. I make a point of not closing my eyes and for a couple of seconds my vision is filled with a seething mass of bubbles. Then buoyancy takes over and, having filled your jacket with air before stepping out, you bob to the surface and raise a hand to signal that you're okay. Assuming that you are, of course!

I'd got used to the giant stride at the swimming pool, although I didn't enjoy it. But when we went diving at Vobster Quay it reached a new level of challenge, with the entry point a few metres above the water's surface. It looked a very long way down.

There wasn't a lot of time to consider the options. My dive buddy, much more experienced than I, was soon in the water and waiting for me. There were two extremely inviting ladders from the entry point into the water but they're almost impossible to negotiate in fins. No, my choices were to pull out or step in.

A fundamental of scuba diving is having faith in your equipment. For me the giant stride tests that trust from the very start, because only my artificial buoyancy is going to compensate for the huge weight I'm carrying.

And it does the job admirably, every time.

BSAC Ocean Diver!

It's all over, bar the final stamp in my training log book.

I've successfully completed BSAC's Ocean Diver training course. Which means I'm qualified to dive to a depth of 20m, under the watchful eye of a qualified dive master.

As I've blogged before, there's nothing to stop me donning my kit and jumping into nearby Portland Harbour on my own. But common sense and good practice says I should always dive in the company of a buddy. And if I want to dive with a club I need to demonstrate that I know what I'm doing - hence the qualification.

The BSAC approach to scuba diver training is to use volunteer instructors. So we (I trained alongside my daughter) owe a huge debt of thanks to Geoff, Perrin and Simon from Alton BSAC. They've given up hours of their time to deliver lessons in the classroom, local swimming pool and open water sites. Their unwavering commitment and enthusiasm is to be commended. Thank you!

So what now? The next level of training is Sports Diver, which would allow me to drop to 35m underwater. A quick scan down a list of wrecks local to my Dorset home shows that those extra 15 metres would allow me to visit a much broader range of sites.

Then there's the change from wet suit to dry suit diving. Having picked up a second-hand dry suit it makes sense to get some training in how to use it.

And I ought to hook up with the local BSAC club. I've finally worked out where they meet and when; next step is to be there when they are!

What I still find incredible is that when 2010 opened, I had no intention of getting involved in scuba diving. Nine months later I've completed the course and, more significantly, I'll never look at deep water in the same way again.

Snorkelling in Portland Harbour

I couldn't resist it.

I've just bought a second-hand drysuit. Despite never having had drysuit training, I was keen to try it out. I've also just moved into a rented house within a minute's walk of Portland Harbour - a huge lagoon of blue water that shimmers in the sun every morning.

The combination generated an unbearable urge to get in the sea as soon as possible. So I did. I snorkelled in Portland Harbour wearing a drysuit.

And if you're thinking that I was courting with danger, be assured that I assessed the risks and stayed safe. Firstly, I took someone with me to observe from the beach and we had a quick chat about protocol - if I waved, I was in trouble. Not that it was very likely, but it's always wise to agree your hand signals in advance.

Secondly, I remained in shallow water at all times. By shallow I mean that when I lay on the surface I could reach down to the bottom with my hands. In Portland Harbour, at low tide, there's a huge expanse of shallow water that's less than a metre deep.

I had a great time. I've never snorkelled before and this was a very basic outing. Beneath me were shoals of tiny fish, probably some sort of goby, and numerous hermit crabs scuttling about their business. That was all I saw, but it was enough for one outing.

I also proved that the drysuit was, as far as I could tell, watertight, at least on the surface. I'll need proper training before I take it deeper. And I discovered that a drysuit is not ideal for snorkelling. It kept me warm and dry, but it was, predictably, extremely buoyant.

If I want to continue my snorkelling adventures it looks like a wetsuit will need to go on the shopping list.

Why Buy New Scuba Diving Gear?

"Don't buy new equipment because there's plenty of almost-new gear out there."

That's the advice I've been given over and over by more experienced scuba divers. Most of them seem to dive with equipment they've sourced through eBay or picked up elsewhere, having already been used by someone else.

Whatever you call it: second-hand, pre-owned or used - there's apparently no shortage of it and it represents great value for money, if you know what you're looking for.

The main source of this strong supply is over-enthusiastic novices, apparently. There's a fair crop who pour a large amount of cash into a complete set of new dive gear during their training, only to find that the sport isn't for them.

Some realise the error of their ways fairly quickly and try to recover a reasonable proportion of their investment through a quick sale. Others are slower to acknowledge their mistake, or simply need time to pass before they conclude that they'll not putting the shiny kit to good use. They pay a higher price when they sell up, simply because their equipment has spent years under the stairs.

As predicted by my instructors, I've benefited from the enthusiastic purchases of a trainee diver. I've never met the chap, but a contact heard he was selling off all his gear and immediately thought of me. Geography was a slight problem, as we lived at opposite ends of the country, but last week I got to see what was on offer.

I'm no expert and at first I was sceptical. When you're being asked to part with hundreds of pounds it's easy to be reluctant, particularly when what's on offer isn't new and shiny. But when you look at the list prices of new equivalents it becomes easier to take a bit of a risk and agree to take the lot.

So I'm now the proud owner of a dry suit, BC, regs, at least one cylinder and sundry other stuff. It hasn't seen service for a few years and while a visual inspection revealed no issues, that's no replacement for a professional assessment. I won't be diving with it until it's been signed off as being in working order.

But it proved the point. If you keep your ear to the ground you can pick up scuba gear for a good price.