On the wreck of the John Strachan Och
ISLAY!


The rocky waters of this island off the west coast of Scotland have been a wreck diver's delight for years. But now, with the guidance of Sport Dive Islay, divers are finding more than just wrecks in its waters. Gavin Anderson apologises to those in the know for letting the cat out of the bag about this secret haven

The Atlantic swell was definitely getting worse. As we stood on the rear of the boat, a huge wave crashed on the rocks in front of us. There was no time to hang around, it was now or never. Plunging beneath the turbulent water we made our way down into the gully. Sculpted walls encrusted with every form of marine life surrounded us.
A kaleidoscope of colours beamed out from the nooks and crannies. Plumose anemones, dead men's fingers, lightbulb sea squirts and elephant-hide sponges blended together to form one big tapestry of marine life. It looked as if this place known as God's Garden was going to live up to its name.
It got its name after Steve, a diver from Trident Sub Aqua Club in Newcastle, was reluctantly dragged off wrecks to dive the scenic area. As he surfaced he was heard to exclaim: "That's like God's garden down there!"
I was diving with Gus Newman, who runs Sport Dive Islay. He had told me this was a great place for crayfish and had promised one for the local pilot. I'd hardly had time to fine-tune my buoyancy before he was off, disappearing under a large ledge like a dog down a rabbit burrow. Seconds later he emerged, holding a beautiful crayfish triumphantly towards me.
A set of waving antennae under the next overhang revealed the hiding place of a second crayfish. Gus motioned towards it, as if to say: this one's for you. Moving in alongside him I decided the best shot was a vertical one and, turning my camera round, focused in: deep orange in colour, all legs and feelers, it looked just like a giant bug.
I was glad Gus had decided to leave the second crayfish in its place. This fellow, at least, would live to greet the next set of divers that passed its way.
Gus was raised on Islay (pronounced Eye-lay) and fishing is in his blood. Before setting up Islay's first full-blown dive centre in 1992, he worked on a scallop dredger, but that's in the past. Since taking up diving 10 years ago, he has seen the damage dredgers can do to the underwater world, and as far as catching crayfish goes he says he only ever takes the odd one, usually for a relative or friend to whom he owes a favour.
His love affair with the island's wrecks is also changing. He used to dive them for trophies, and portholes litter his yard, but now he dives them for pleasure.
I hoped to dive some of the wrecks later, but for the moment I was enjoying God's Garden. Our dive had begun in frenetic fashion. The contrast between Gus and myself under water was comical. He was like a terrier, bounding along, whereas I was more like a snail - there was just so much to see at this site.
I was finding the gullies a photographer's dream. The coarse white sand of the sea floor contrasted with the pinkish walls with their splattering of yellow, orange and red anemones. I'd love to have taken some wide-angle shots here, but the swell had churned up the water and I had chosen to stick to close-ups. My lens chased goldsinny and small-mouthed wrasse and in under the crevices I focused on several leopard-spot gobies and a few squat lobsters, which gave me the slip just before I could get the perfect picture.
In the next gully, on a rocky plateau covered in baby mussels, I did get my perfect picture. A magnificent short-spined scorpionfish with an impressive pink and dirty tan camouflage posed brilliantly, its huge eyes following my every move. It was one of the prettiest coloured and largest I had ever seen and it didn't budge an inch even when I moved my camera to within inches of its face. If it had thought it had a chance, I'm sure it would have swallowed my camera whole.
Just next to the scorpionfish was an expertly camouflaged spider crab, swaying back and forth - like myself - in the increasingly uncomfortable swell. Not only was it the same colour as the mussel bed, but it had an assortment of tiny shell fragments all over its body. Had it not been moving I'm sure I'd never have seen it.
Back onboard after the dive, Gus proudly showed his prize crayfish to Sean, a diver from Wakefield Sub Aqua Club, which was on holiday for a week in the area. It was the second dive of what had been a wreck-free day for the group. In the morning we had made a fast drift dive at a site called Rubha han Leacan, which they really enjoyed. God's Garden seemed to meet with equal approval.
Over the past few years Gus has explored many of the island's scenic sites, in the knowledge that a successful dive business needs to offer customers a wide range of dive sites. He has uncovered many excellent sites, including pinnacles, walls, reefs and gully systems just like God's Garden. Depending on the group, Gus would hope to take divers to as many scenic sites as wreck sites in a week's diving.
There are certainly no shortage of wreck sites around Islay. The island is the last piece of land before the USA and many ships bound for America from Manchester, Liverpool and Glasgow have come to grief on Islay's east coast, as they mistook it for the coast of Ireland while heading north in bad weather. Others came to grief on the Mull of Oa, which they thought was the Mull of Kintyre.
One of the saddest losses in the area was that of the Otranto, a 15,000 ton World War One troop carrier which was hit by the ss Kashmir in poor visibility on the west coast of Islay.
Nearly 400 men lost their lives, most of them after they abandoned ship and tried to swim ashore.
The swell never lessened enough for me to make it out west. This was a pity, as I had hoped to dive the Otranto, an old wooden barque called the Thomas and, further north, the Agate and the Floriston, which had military supplies from WWII aboard when she ran aground.
Today divers can still see the huge chassis of locomotives lying upside-down among Jeeps, tyres and batteries.
Although we couldn't head out to these, we were able to dive on some of Islay's more sheltered wreck sites, many of which were within just 20 minutes of the dive centre.
The mv Limelight came to grief on rocks, just short of Port Ellen, in October 1966. Today it has split into two main sections and the upside-down bow is several metres away from the stern which, strangely, faces the same way as the bow. Large sections of the wreck are covered in orange plumose anemones, and although the wreck is in less than 10m, it makes a good second dive.
Just a few miles further east from the Limelight, near the Ardbeg distillery, the wreck of the John Strachan makes another good, shallow dive. The John Strachan sank in just 8m in December 1917. Well protected by the rocks and reef she hit, she remains intact and sits upright on the seafloor. Although a little silty, it is possible to enter the accommodation cabin just behind the bow, although you will probably take a few minutes to find the entrance, as the wreck is festooned with kelp.
There are literally hundreds of wrecks around the shores of Islay, and Gus is sure he will discover more over time. Local historian James MacAulay has helped him locate many of them, as have local fishermen, and his own dredging experience also stood him in good stead.
Boats often ran into likely wreck targets and it was this experience that led Gus to one of his best finds, the wreck of fishing trawler the Osprey.
Gus had been in a race with his late friend Tommy Cecil from Rathlin Dive Centre to find the Osprey. Three separate readings from local fishing boats and his dredging experience eventually brought him to the wreck after a 14-hour search one perfect summer's day back in 1993.
The wreck lies upright in 34m of water, just over a mile from the Ballochantuy coast, a few miles south of Gigha Island. Good calm conditions are essential before one can dive it, as it is right in the open sea, around an hour from the dive centre.
The Osprey sank on 6 April, 1935, after colliding with another trawler, the Curlew. Just how the two fishing boats came to hit each other is a mystery, as the weather was calm and the visibility good at the time they collided. The Curlew apparently ran straight into the Osprey, tearing a massive hole in her midships. She took just an hour to sink, but skipper Kelly and his 10-man crew all made it to safety.
Peter Moir, the author of Argyll Shipwrecks, was one of the first people to dive on the Osprey and, coincidentally, was taking his annual two-week holiday on Islay during my visit.
The wreck is seldom dived and it was the first time this year that Gus had been able to take divers down on to it. Peter told me that on both his previous dives on the wreck the visibility had been excellent - the first time he had been able to see the surface from the sea floor. But as we descended the line, the water was murky. Only at 20m did the outline of the wreck begin to appear.
We landed midships, just past a huge winch and the remains of the steering mechanism. I followed Peter, who had set off quickly towards the stern. This is the most complete part of the wreck, the bow and front portion being somewhat flattened.
On our way, we passed the ship's huge engine, and paused to watch a shoal of bib and pollack scoot by us. Up ahead was a mass of dead men's fingers. They were everywhere, covering the ship above the stern. Inside I watched more bib and pollack and a lobster which scurried away.
Dropping down to the ship's propeller, half-buried in the sand, I found myself in 34m, right on the seafloor. Looking up at the wreck was an awesome sight. Large parts of the Osprey's stern hull were covered in brilliant white and orange plumose anemones. Peter told me later that the stem used to look even better, completely covered in anemones, but he thought a scallop dredger must have recently brushed past the wreck, as it was now sitting another metre or so further under the sand. Its propeller used to be completely visible but now it was half-buried.
Back aboard the dive boat, the Wakefield divers had clearly enjoyd a great dive. They had even picked up half a bag of scallops and a couple of lobsters for tea.
Islay Dive Centre A FAMILY AFFAIR
The Islay Dive Centre opened in 1992. It is a family-run business. Gus Newman and his father Ian take care of the dive operation, Sport Dive Islay, while Gus's mother Anne looks after food and lodging. The centre has comfortable accommodation for 10 in the old boat-building shed, which has been converted into two purpose-built flats with their own kitchens and sitting-rooms, complete with TVs and central heating. There are plans for another room to be added this winter, which means the centre will soon be able to cater for groups of 12.

Anne has developed the reputation of being one of the best landladies in the business and is a celebrity cook, no less. She has entertained Allan Douglas from The Homeshow and Nick Nairn, Scotland's own TV chef, who she showed how to cook scallops! Anne loves cooking seafood and in addition to her own fruits de la mer, ocean pie and smoked haddock and scallop roulade, she more than happily serves up the fresh crayfish, lobsters and crabs that the divers bring in as additional starters. They are constantly asking for her secret recipes.

Board and lodging including breakfast, lunch and dinner costs £26 per day.

Diving costs 26 a day, including bottles and air. The centre supplies either 12 or 15 litre cylinders. The new 9m fast Cat, which can reach speeds of more than 30 knots, can speed divers to a variety of dive sites around the island. Most of the sites are tidal, so slack water is always an important consideration, especially for the more exposed wreck sites like the Osprey. Gus and Ian encourage fun but safe diving.

Ferries to Islay run twice daily from Kennacraig and weekly from Oban, call 01880 730 253 for details. British Airways flies Monday to Saturday from Glasgow, 0345 222 111.

For information or to book your holiday to Islay, call Anne, Ian or Gus on 01496 302 441, e-mail angus@cheapnet.co.uk.
Appeared in DIVER - October 1999