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Home > Contact > Newsletter Archive > August 2001 Fearing and Lusty in Lunenburg
Lunenburg Harbour, already a noted dive site, is the final resting place of the Canadian helicopter destroyer 'HMCS Saguenay' (this site contains an excellent pictorial history of the Royal Canadian Navy). As a child of nine I used to run up and down the decks of this ship while my father worked. On occasion, we would go out to sea on family days, actually 'Father and Son' days - it being the sixties, don't you know. I was anxious to view this bit of my history after 35 years. Here is a picture of what this beautiful craft looked like in its heyday. |
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 The
Saguenay's badge looks like this... |
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John
Emrick, who served for 26 years in the Royal Canadian Navy, was
kind enough to supply the photos of DDH 206 and her badge. Check
out John's collection of navy lore, with a special emphasis on the
Bonaventure, Canada's last aircraft carrier. Stephen and I showed up at Jo's Dive shop at 10 in the morning. More or less bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. We had a little bit of paper work to deal with and then it was down to the harbour to load our stuff onto the Sea Dog IV. |
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SF proudly displays a cup of our (un)official sponsor's best. Note to Tragically Hip: Time to write a song about Tim Horton. |
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Stephen does a little bag diving. We transported all of our gear in one bag - kind of like sharing a spouse - the sharee is well used and happy, but the sharers are left 'eyeing' one another suspiciously. We survived, but the bag blew a seam on the way home. We now possess (new) matching bags. Cute? No? |
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Our
first dive was our 'Deep Dive'. James briefed us on the procedure.
We would descend to approximately 30m on the port side of the Saguenay,
clear off the urchins (You! Twist! Oliver Twist! Yes, you! Clear
off!) and have a seat on the port stabilizer fin. At our perch we
would perform some simple numeric additions and then tie a reef
knot to demonstrate that we were not suffering from nitrogen narcosis.
After the test, we would explore. |
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Jo Shadbolt and James Creaser in the wheelhouse of the Sea Dog IV, just prior to departure. |
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Anemone
on the Saguenay. Thanks to James for lending us his camera and
for taking some of the photos. |
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We
exited the dive boat, made our 'OK' sign and proceeded to anchor
line at the bow of the vessel. The Sea Dog was tied off to a buoy
which in turn was attached near the helicopter hanger of the ship.
We descended this line to about 20m and then dropped off to follow
the Saguenay's hull to the plane. Visibility was decent but, it
being mid-summer, there was a lot of plankton in the water which
makes it appear somewhat turbid. Non-divers would be surprised at
how much light there is down below - sort of like the gloom under
the canopy of a boreal forest - easy enough for the eyes to adapt
to but difficult for photography. Our narcosis test went well. Both
of us are comfortable at depth and despite Stephen's occasional
problems with equalizing his nasal passages (have you seen the size
of that nose!) we both appear to be well suited physiologically
for the sport. After the test we ascended to the port rail and explored
a little along the port gangway. I had clear memories of wandering
around the ship many years ago. It's remarkable today to think about how few restrictions were placed on us - we (my brother and I) went from bow to stern, into the bridge to watch the radar, down to the engine rooms. The only time we caught serious shit was on a cruise when we'd found our way to the bow in fairly heavy seas and were enjoying the sensation of weightlessness that comes from falling into a wave followed by the incredible force exerted as we ascended the next. Some sailor dashed out to pull us in - no doubt we were in dire danger of getting swept overboard. Times sure have changed. First, I doubt that the Royal Canadian Navy has money to waste on fuel for a frivolous activity like a family day and second, you can bet that today's little sea-persons would be tightly corralled for their own safety. Today the 'Sag' is virtually covered with nudibranches, sea stars, urchins, anemone, etc., etc. This is quite a contrast to the light grey, almost white, paint favoured by the Canadian Navy for its vessels. Pollack and other fish abound. We weren't lucky enough to see a seal but other divers reported the creatures coming very close to investigate and swim along. One doesn't find the schools of brightly coloured fish that one finds in the Caribbean but the sights are diverse and interesting in their own right. Being at depth exerts a toll on the air supply and all to soon we were making our way back to the anchor line to begin our ascent. James took us through the new slower ascent and changed safety stop procedures that we'd been told would help alleviate that 'wet dish rag' feeling that one often gets after a few dives. The divers in the crowd would do well to check out this new regime - we found that, as advertised, it left us feeling energized. During our surface interval we went over the next dive plan which was much the same as the last. We explored more of the vessel, looked at more wildlife, sucked air. You know, an average day at the office. |
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Fearing (left) and Lusty (uhhh, right) share a tender moment. |
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Just
goes to prove that you shouldn't shoot until you can see the whites
of their eyes. |
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After
the day's events we grabbed a six pack and headed off to Blue Rocks,
just down road, to quaff a few ale whilst sitting by the ocean and
adding to the endless exchange of lies and exaggerations and to
generally toast our good fortune in being born in such a land as
Canada at such a time. To quote a buddy's immigrant father-in-law
(stare off into the middle distance, drop voice two octaves and
say with a thick Polish accent) - 'Good country, Canada.' |
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Lunenburg Day 5 Lunenburg Day 6 |
