It's often the unexpected that means so much in diving, and Anna Wyatt has a good example from a recent trip to Poland. How does diving a lake from a floating ice-cream parlour to check out a bomb grab you for unexpected?
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BOMB DISPOSAL - BY PEDALO!
MY HUSBAND ALEX AND I ARE FROM POLISH STOCK, so we visit his cousins in Poland quite frequently. They live in Barlinek, not far from Berlin and the German border, and where everyone knows nearly everyone else.
Marek, Alex's cousin, is first officer on a freighter for six months of the year and spends the rest of his time doing what he has enjoyed for 30 years - diving.
He and a group of friends have their own compressor, as diving is not that well-developed in Poland. And at the slightest excuse, they all pack their kit and head for water somewhere.
Marek lives in an area peppered with thousands of wonderful lakes. Barlinek is built around one which covers some 150 acres and has a maximum depth of about 15m. It serves for fishing, swimming, sailing, boating and now diving.
We visited last year, and one morning were woken by the phone at 8am. It was Andrzej, one of the group. He had been on a night dive and was certain he had discovered a World War Two bomb in Barlinek Lake. He had called the Bomb Disposal Squad, with which he was on close terms, as he often found WW2 munitions in the area. The squad said they would be there the following afternoon.
Next day, the group assembled by the lakeside. The disposal boys arrived in two armoured 4x4s called Honkers. It was their third call of the day.
We discussed the plan of action. The first problem was that none of the bomb squad could dive. Fortunately Marek, Andrzej, Filip, Kasia - the only woman diver - and Alex happened to be already kitted up, and Andrzej had managed to borrow an underwater video camera. What a surprise!
It was agreed that they would descend to the narcotic, heady depths of 4m to find the suspected bomb, film it and then show the sappers the result.
The next problem was that the pleasure-boat jetty where we stood was the nearest access point, some 250m from the bomb site and protected by a 50m-wide reed bed that extended from the shore.
"Stick that for a surface swim," was the general feeling. We also needed the sappers on-site, so the problem was this: how to transport six Bomb Disposal Experts and five divers.
Easy! Moored to the jetty was a craft made from a dozen or so 250 litre drums. It had a deck, seating for 12 people, a table complete with a Walls Ice Cream parasol, and was pedal-powered. It was the biggest pedalo you ever did see!
They started to pedal this thing, but soon realised that because of their weight it would take over an hour to get there - if it didn't capsize in the meantime.
Not a problem. The chap who owned the pedalo also had a motor boat, and offered to tow the contraption to the site.
The group moored in the reed bed and the divers went down. They even touched the bomb, swimming around it and trying not to disturb too much silt.
From their film, the sappers decided that it was very likely a bomb, and a 500kg one at that. But they couldn't be sure, so the major in charge decided that one of his team needed to see it actually lying in place under water.
The sergeant whose speciality was aerial bombs turned a nasty shade of green. He had never even snorkelled, let alone been under water.
Imagine taking your first dive lesson while floating over half a ton of high explosive, but being more petrified of submerging 4m than of being blown up! Anyway, he was kitted out and given his first (possibly last) diving lesson. He was taken down, buoyant as anything, linking arms with two divers who nursed him around the bomb, ready to let him bob up like a cork if he panicked.
The trio soon surfaced and boarded the pedalo. The colour had returned to the sergeant's cheeks and he confirmed that it was a half-ton bomb. The primary detonator was missing, so it had remained under water, unexploded.
Everyone breathed a sigh of relief, and we used a mobile to call for a tow home.
The pedalo-owner then invited us all to his place for beer. Polish hospitality being what it is, there were instantly two tables in the garden, groaning with beautiful grub barbecued by the sappers.
We were privileged enough to be shown the rest of their day's haul and even allowed to try on their bomb-disposal kit!
Despite an invitation, Alex and I were unable to attend the raising of the bomb, as we had to return to the UK. Andrzej was there, however, and so was the sergeant, though this time he had brought along an army diver to make sure he didn't have to repeat his earlier experience.
Andrzej was allowed to dive with the army diver and, after hours of preparation, the monster was raised from where it had lain for more than half a century. It was loaded onto the truck for safe disposal.
Never in our wildest dreams had we imagined that our pond-hopping diving holiday would culminate in an event shared by the Polish nation on TV!
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