Picture of By Mark Lewis

By Mark Lewis

4th February 2025

Six frost-defying members of Swindon’s Seahorse Dive Club—Bill, Chris, Pete, yours truly, Tom, and Glen—braved the Arctic-esque charms of Somerset’s Vobster Quay last weekend. Armed with drysuits, grit, and a questionable sense of adventure, we plunged into water so cold it made penguins reconsider their life choices (6°C, give or take a shiver). Visibility? A generous 5 metres… if you squinted through the icy haze.

The Dive: CCRs vs. Open Circuit

Pete and I, the “Rebreather Rebels,” opted for our trusty CCRs, smugly sipping gas like underwater aristocrats while the open-circuit lads (Bill, Chris, Tom, Glen) blew bubbles like overexcited kettles. Our mission: a 63-minute jaunt to 33.5 metres in the pit, then the crushing works—a hulking metal labyrinth—loomed like Poseidon’s abandoned DIY project. The boys on open circuit, meanwhile, lasted a valiant 28 minutes before their teeth-chattering symphony reached fortissimo.

Attractions & Surreal Encounters

• The Crushing Works: A rusted monstrosity at 22 metres, perfect for practising buoyancy… or contemplating the futility of existence. Pete attempted a “artistic” somersault through its skeletal frame; results were more clumsy octopus than synchronised swimmer.

• Jacquin II Wreck: A 15m wooden cruiser languishing in the shallows, where Glen mistook a dislodged plank for a “rare Somerset sea serpent”.

• Wheelhouse Wrecks: Twin maritime relics at 18 metres, where Chris performed an impromptu Titanic reenactment (arms outstretched, silent screaming).

• Helicopter: A submerged Sea King chopper, now home to Vobster’s famed “Vobster lobsters” (white-clawed crayfish), which waved their claws at us like grumpy landlords.

Post-Dive Revelry

Emerging as human popsicles, we staggered to the Quay’s food truck, where salvation came in two forms:

1. Sausage Baps: Greasy, glorious, and possibly containing traces of actual sausage. Bill declared his “the best thing since heated undersocks.”

2. Cuppa Soups: A lukewarm broth that tasted like liquid nostalgia. Pete’s Minestrone flavour doubled as a hand warme

Critter Corner

The star sightings? Those elusive white-clawed crayfish, skulking in the shadows like underwater hermit crabs. Pete swore one gave him the side-eye—a likely story, given his CCR-induced euphoria.

Final Thoughts

A dive so bracing it’d make a Yeti whinge, but camaraderie and post-dive carbs triumph every time. As Glen philosophised between hot chocolates: “Cold water’s just nature’s way of telling you to eat more bacon rolls.” Until next time, Vobster! Report filed with numb fingers and a heart full of hot tea.