I had a dream, which was not all a dream

Night diving has become a passion of mine, not only do a lot of interesting creatures come out after the sun sets but the calm, quiet and solitude I love about diving are amplified. It can be nerve racking however, the first time I tried it especially, but pushing yourself outside your comfort zone is part of the allure.

Safety is always the first consideration, I can't stress this enough. In case you read this and decide it sounds like a good idea here are some ground rules for night diving. Firstly don't go alone, secondly make sure someone knows were your diving and when you're expecting to leave the water. Always dive somewhere you know very well from day dives, you must be familiar with the shoreline, the currents and the underwater terrain.

Make sure you dive somewhere with lights on the shore to help you navigate back to land in an emergency. Check all of your gear, take a watch with a light, a main torch and a backup torch, keep the rest of your gear to a minimum.

Check the weather report!

When diving constantly check your bearings and finally stay close to the shore, you don't need to go offshore at night as the beasties come into shallower water in the dark.

I have had some fantastic experiences night diving, it is a great opportunity to see unusual sea life and get closer to them than you normally would during the day. Common sites include baby and adult squid, dogfish, baby conger eels, red gurnard, sea trout and my personal favourite – cuttlefish. How people can kill these amazing creatures is beyond me, like Octopus they have an advanced nervous system and are able to change their skin colour and texture not only to camouflage themselves but to communicate.

When I encounter them I can happily watch them for the entire dive, they often wait on the sea bed camouflaged against the sand (they are ambush predators) making them hard to spot. But occasionally you see them on the move, drifting across the sand, their motion like that of a hover craft. Even rarer is to find them swimming in open water, here they are reminiscent of UFO's drifting hypnotically in the dark/ They are captivating creatures and often inquisitive, one night I was surrounded by three cuttlefish and they happily explored my equipment while I hung motionless watching them.

If you happen to alarm them they will often raise two of their tentacles as a warning signal and change to a darker pattern, if you get closer they will glide away from you. Their last resort, like the squid is to release a cloud of ink and jet away.

Sometimes I turn off my torch and submerge in the pitch black, when the conditions are right every motion will set off swirls of phosphorescence creating a ghostly outline of your body as if you have been replaced by a cloud of tiny fireflies (the programmer in me thinks of particle systems).

On clear calm night I also like to lie on my back just floating there watching the stars, it is at these moments I feel most at peace.

Sometimes my (very brave) girlfriend accompanies me, she is developing an interest in underwater photography with great results, she has kindly let me use some of here pictures from our last night dive together to illustrate this post.

The Deep Green

It's always tough deciding to go freediving. It means a long trip to Wales and missing a whole weekend of sea dives which are precious as I work 9-5 at the moment with a long commute. But whenever I go I am pleased that I made the effort, my latest trip was no exception, despite the horrendous weather! (Plus I got to stop in and visit my godson and his new brother which was great!).

I always feel and up-welling of excitement which becomes more like nervousness as we get to the quarry, and is definitely nerves by the time the little boat has taken us out to the freediving pontoon. I look down into the deep green water with trepidation, knowing that it's eighty meters deep beneath me.

The walls of the quarry loom over us ominously as the divers begin going through their various routines. The more experienced among our small group begin yoga, stretching and breathing exercises variously while us beginners chat and joke. Back at the quay I can see scuba divers preparing and at various spots around the quarry the tell tale patterns of bubbles give away those already diving, most of them stay closer to the shallow end though.

We continue our preparations by dropping weighted lines off three sides of the pontoon, two longer lines for the deeper divers, we have in our small group several instructors, an instructor trainer and the British record holder as well as people like myself that have only qualified this year. We have two lines on our side, a warm-up line set to 20m and another set to 35m, It amuses me that the warm-up line is only 2m short of my deepest dive, I am determined today to reach 25m.

We don our fins and masks and ease into the cool fresh water and gather around the shorter dive line, we all submerge a few times checking out equipment and getting relaxed in the water, below me the rope disappears into the deep dark green, there is no sign of the bright white weight on the end, I estimate the visibility is about 8-10m.

We take turns diving, as one person descends the rope, attached by a lanyard his (or her) buddy keeps a close eye on them. You hold the rope with one hand feeling the vibration as the lanyard runs down the rope, soon they disappear into the gloom and you wait for the tug as they grab the rope to turn around. As they ascend your job as buddy is to dive down and meet them about 10m down, getting them to signal that they are ok, and watch their eyes for signs of trouble. You float the final few meters to the surface staring at each other then confirm that they are ok, these final seconds are where you are most likely to blackout and safety is the number one priority.

Everyone has a different routine for their warm-up dives, free divers often follow these almost superstitiously. I start by diving to 10m and holding there, then slowly ascending, then 15m and finally make a couple of dives to 20m. As you dive deeper your mammalian dive reflex begins to kick in and you feel more comfortable, the depth and length of your dives increases.

I am thrilled to manage a dive to 25m, but I feel comfortable when I surface and know I have more in me so when I have recovered I dive again hoping to go deeper.

I clip on my lanyard and stare down into the depths for a few moments before turning onto my back and beginning to breathe up. I relax, close my eyes and regulate my breathing, calming my mind and trying distance myself from the nervousness and excitement I feel. After a couple of minutes I take my final deep breathe, turn, duck dive and begin finning down the line, I reach out and let my hand run down the rope. There is a lot to think about, I focus on my technique and overcoming the bad habits spear fishing has taught me, but most importantly I focus on relaxing, I take a stock check, relaxing any muscles that are unnecessarily tensed and economising my finning as I descend into the cool, quiet dark.

My left hand is pinching my nose, as I get deeper I need to equalise almost constantly and I feel the pressure building. The water suddenly gets noticeably colder and although I am not looking up or down I know I am deep (for me) and I force myself to relax and overcome the urge to turn around and race to the surface.

I resist the temptation to check my dive computer but look down instead, I can just see the plate a blur of white below me, it seems to shimmer and I realise there is a temperature differential there. Above and to my right I see another weight hanging against a dark to light green gradient and I realise I must be at about 25m, I keep finning.

The pressure continues to mount both psychologically and physiologically, it becomes harder to equalise my ears as the air inside me is being compressed. It noticeably colder as I pass the differential , I look down again and see the plate is tantalisingly close, I check my dive computer and it registers 106ft, I feel a burst of adrenaline and drift horizontal, before I can rationalise it I am pulling on the rope and swimming for the surface.

I suppress a feeling of panic when I feel how much harder it is finning upwards, I am negatively buoyant at this depth, I am 100ft down and my chest feels compressed, there is a metallic taste in my mouth, every sensation seems strange, I have never felt anything like this before. I keep working my legs and refuse to look up remembering that raising your head restricts the blood flow to the brain.

The swim to the surface seemed to take an eternity, I could feel my diaphragm contracting and have to quash my urge to panic again when I see I am still 20m from the surface. My instincts scream at me to fin as hard as I can and rush towards the air but I keep my pace steady and run through my muscle relaxing check-list again instead.

As the water grows lighter the need to breathe becomes more demanding, then my safety diver appears and looking straight at me gives me the 'ok' sign , which I return. I break the surface with a rush of relief and excitement, a sharp exhale followed by a strong fast inhale, I hang onto the rope while giving the ok sign to my buddy. I don't even realise how much I'm grinning.

(Photos by Kate Adams)

Mobile Home

After pouring over the map I decided to venture further afield, trying new dive sites is always exciting! So off I drive for an hour an a half until I find myself in a National Trust car park a short walk away from a secluded cove. It's a lovely stroll down a wooded valley, down carved steps and over wooden bridges across a small stream. The beach has no sand just lovely round pebbles, some old mine workings and a picturesque pond. The sea looks calm and inviting and the coastline interesting enough so I head back to the car to get changed.

Once I get into the water I realise that appearances can be deceiving , the visibility is not very good at all and try as I might I cannot find any clear patches, I fin up the coast for an hour with no success and find myself frustrated as I'm unable to explore what I cannot see!

Still one of the great things about diving is that you always see something interesting! Despite swimming through pea soup I still managed to find the best jelly fish of the season so far. A big beautifully patterned specimen pulsing serenely through the gloom complete with three passengers. I spent twenty minutes enjoying the spectacle and getting some footage. I am always fascinated by jellies, there is something hypnotic about their graceful motion and lovely patterns and colours. The small fish sheltering behind it's stinging tentacles regarded me nervously always trying to keep the jellyfish between us or tucking themselves far up into it's body if I got too close.

Here's a small clip, best watched in hidef / full-screen.

Sunday Dive

I lie face down I the water feeling the sun warm my back as I peer down into the gloom. The water is about 25ft deep and out here there are currents and a swell running that has reduced the visibility so I can only just make out the kelp below me. I finish my breathe up although it's hard to relax whilst trying to maintain position against the moving sea, I fill my lungs with a final deep breathe, first from my diaphragm then my chest, spit out my snorkel and begin my dive.

Finning downwards the light quickly takes on a green tint and the seaweed becomes clearer, swaying hypnotically with the rhythm of the waves. I angle my descent, aiming for a good landing point and equalise my ears, I'm lucky on a dive this deep I only have to clear the pressure once. Levelling out I drop knees first into the kelp, until I touch the rock it is anchored to and my head is level with the waving fronds.

I enjoy the tranquillity, feel the pressure of the water on my body, nearly double what you feel at the surface and watch the fish gliding towards my hiding place to investigate. As usual the first takers are juvenile Pollack, on my left I see a good number of them, their arrow shaped silhouettes circling me inquisitively. There is a sudden darting motion above me and a shoal of small streamlined fish swim into view. As always when I'm hunting I feel almost like two separate people, one part of me enjoys the spectacle, the glinting of beautiful colours catching the sun, whilst another part is identifying the fish, accessing their size and the chance of getting one. This is a big shoal of Mackerel, moving fast as I track them with my gun, I don't often see Mackerel and am hesitant to shoot, they are small targets and I don't want to shoot an undersized fish.

My pause pays dividends and I see that the smaller fish are fleeing a shoal of Bass, I adjust my focus, moving my gun slowly towards the newcomers singling out one of the larger ones and letting him move in front of the gun before shooting. It's not a great shot the gun is turned towards the bass so I'm not sighted properly, but it's secure and I swim towards the surface towing the fish with me where I quickly real it in and dispatch it with my knife.

I do some more dives hoping to find a big Pollack or more bass, but only see a shoal of Mullet at range so I just enjoy the show, watching their shapes fade into the murk. The frequent deeper dives (8-10m is the deepest I hunt at present) have tired me out so I decide to call it a day and start the long fin back to shore, circling the island until I'm out of the stronger tidal currents.

As I cross the final channel the current picks up again and I encounter some small basking sharks harvesting the plankton being swept past, I swim along side one as it passes which rounds off a great dive perfectly.



(to get the most out of the video open it up in youtube, select hi res and fullscreen it)