Just a little swim
Rich elected not to dive this time, to allow time for his flooded undersuit to dry out.
Ash and I set off into the cave with a plan to go straight to the end of the 2017 and start laying new line in sump 2 beginning at a depth of 42 metres.
Cave passage on the approach to sump 2. Image: Mark Burkey
Arriving at the sump pool, I was having difficulty adding oxygen to the loop. The faulty MAV had been plaguing me for a while and despite repairs, was still intermittent. The oxygen injection was now not even working at all.
This was a no brainer. The unit was faulty and I could not dive. Ash was already geared up in the sump pool so, after a brief discussion he asked if he could 'go for just a little swim'.
I told him to stop mucking about and to go to the end of the line and see what happened - or this cave wouldn't get pushed out at all!
Ash sets off into sump 2. Image: Mark Burkey
Ash quickly reached the end of line, picking up a bailout stage en-route, and tied on the reel. After approximately 2 minutes of laying line, a stage was dropped.
In 3-4m visibility he got very excited about a ramp which went from -46m up to -25m but this quickly dropped back down.
In 17mins 207m of line was laid, approximately half at -40m average and half at -30m average, on a 101min dive.
He surveyed the line on the way home and we were relieved that the cave seemed to be trending shallower, although it still hadn't done the honourable thing and surfaced.
The gauntlet was now laid down for Rich and myself to get back on the horse, rebreather seemingly fixed and try to make more progress on our last day.
Chris tows gear across the lakes in the Halcyon Life raft. Image: Mark Burkey
"Puddles up to me knees..."
Rich explains why he's all wet...Video grab, Mark Burkey.
Licanke project 2018 - Day 3
The plan for the first day was for Rich and Christine to go straight to the end of their line from 2017 and push it out as far as possible.
The cave depth from the bottom of the shaft was averaging about 45m and the maximum depth was 50m. So, the exploration dive plan was to put in enough bailout bottles of trimix, suitable for 75m depth, along the line at the correct distances based on swimming speed - to allow a push dive of up to 250m distance.
Robbie helps Chris kit up in her KISS rebreather. Image: Mark Burkey
It's hard planning an exploration dive as there is literally no way of knowing what the cave is going to do. Christine and Rich had over a decade of experience each in cave systems and Chris has a geological background so it's possible to get a 'feel' for what a cave might do - but you'll never know for certain.
The team were pretty sure that they were in the 'Master Cave' or 'confluence' for the whole region - essentially this is the collection of all the water in the surrounding mountains and catchment - all coming out of the resurgence we were diving into.
The size of the cave passage and the flood marks on the walls told us that this cave takes a phenomenal amount of water in flood conditions and taking into account the other cave systems in the region, had every possibility of going deeper.
The deeper the cave, the more decompression the divers would accrue and this is far from fun in 7 degree water. Despite using dry gloves and thick undersuits beneath their drysuits, the cold was always an issue in this cave.
Rich in sump 2. Image: Mark Burkey
Rich got into the sump pool which was beautifully lit up by Mark's various video lights. Chris prepared her rebreather and was ready to go when Rich muttered something about a leak in his drysuit. After a bit of conversation, he opted to dive as it didn't seem to be getting in any worse. Chris and Rich dived down the shaft and the gravel slope, fixing some line as they went and Chris had an enjoyable dive behind Rich, using her bright video lights and Paralenz camera to light the way and film proceedings.
Chris sets off down the gravel slope, sump 2 Izvor Licanke.
The visibility wasn't great but it was Ok to progress. neither diver could see the roof or the opposite wall.
Once they approached Christine's 2017 last tie-off (she was very pleased this was still secure!) she pulled her wetnotes and compass out of her pocket ready to begin surveying - and Rich did the unthinkable.
He gave a very positive and non-negotiable thumbs up.
This should never be questioned in the water - but really?!!
He did it again and Christine, furious, turned around and refused to speak to him all the way back to dive base.
Chris, wetsuited, takes her rebreather through sump 1 and into the cave. Image: Jess Burkey
It transpired, when a shivering Rich got out of the water, that his suit had flooded almost completely.
He had puddles up to his knees!
The suit inflation bottle, usually full of air, seemed to be full of water. Salt water!
Someone had obviously handed a flooded suit bottle back into the dive centre after a sea dive and not told them. The gauge of course still read 200 bar, so we were none the wiser until Rich began injecting water into his drysuit rather than air!
There was no way Rich could dry out a salty undersuit in time so a plan was hatched for Chris and Ash to attempt a push dive the next day.
The rebreathers stayed in the cave and only the small oxygen and diluent bottles came out for a refill - as well as the dodgy suit bottle!
Back at the house, gear was dried out, 'stuff' got unpacked and re-packed, pongy wetsuits hung desperately on the line and everyone headed off to a nearby pizza place which produced the most amazing food and beer in gargantuan volumes.
Chris uses her Paralenz for a 'selfie'.
Chain Gang
Izvor Licanke project 2018 - Day 2
Ash in sump 2. Image: Mark Burkey
After the usual "what shall we eat today" faff of breakfast and cave food, all the divers went through sump one and carried the remainder of the gear including a dry tube with camera gear and food.
The divers on CCR (rebreathers) Richard, Ash and Christine dived their units through sump one and pushed their twinsets and open circuit gear through ahead of them for daily ferrying trips, with the plan to leave the rebreathers at sump 2. Only the small rebreather bottles and suit inflation bottles would come out of the cave each day, along with any spent sodalime. This was easy to do as the dry tubes were reliable.
We all carried our own rebreathers to sump 2 which wasn't as horrific as I envisaged. I had two guys balancing me over the boulders as a slip or fall would not only damage me but damage my unit. The rest of the way it was fine. The team chained all the gear to the sump and began setting it up for the push dive. A makeshift kitchen and 'clean' area was created and bailout bottles were tested and some niggles sorted out and repaired.
The boulder chamber in Izvor Licanke. Image: Mark Burkey.
One SPG had got smashed in the carry and a few hoses had developed leaks but in the grand scheme of things, that is the best we could have hoped for after taking the fragile kit through such hostile conditions. Nobody complained and just switched the parts out for new ones.
Ash and Christine did a quick foray into sump 2 to pull out the nasty old thin line that had caused Rich and Christine some aggravation last year and a thick caving rope was put in its place. This was much stronger, easier to see and easier to feel in the poor visibility shaft. Ash also retrieved Rich's search reel which he'd be moaning about for the last 12 months.
Mark set up his video station, having bought several expensive video lights for the project and set about lining up various shots for the film Christine planned to create.
Rick Van Dijk in Licanke. Image: Mark Burkey.
The priority this year was video footage, both in the 'dry' cave and underwater. We were fortunate to have got hold of some Paralenz dive cameras. Rated to 200 metres depth and small enough to fit in your pocket, they were an obvious choice to take with us. With neat video lights from Light Motion, we hoped to get some decent footage of the underwater passages.
Mark Burkey waves to his Mum after he promised her he would never go cave diving….
Can I come?
Licanke project 2018. Image: Mark Burkey
Licanke project 2018 - Day 1
It was that time again.
Izvor Licanke lay quietly in wait for the usual suspects to return and uncover the secrets that lay in this huge, water filled cave. The same team returned for the 2018 assault on the end of our line in sump 2, this time using closed circuit rebreathers.
This made a lot more logistical sense. It meant we could do multiple dives while only transporting the same number of cylinders as last year. The plan was to only use those cylinders in an emergency, in the case of rebreather failure and each diver took their own full set of 'bailout'.
Robbie Varesko, our Croatian interpreter and minder was a triathlete. He had been doing the equivalent of iron mans in Croatia and he was itching to get into the cave this year.
Robbie Varesko - an incredible asset to the expedition.
So, Rich Walker gave him his old Fourth Element proteus wetsuit (it has a gaping hole in the arse but Robbie seemed not to care - until he got into the 6 degree water!), Rick Van Dijk donated a helmet and diving/caving light and I loaned him some knee pads. He sourced his own wellies.
Mark Burkey returned with his camera and the promise to shoot more footage for the film about this cave. Ash Hiscock drove down again bringing dry tubes and gas banks. We headed up to Fuzine and settled into our accommodation. Same place as usual with lots of stuffed things on the walls.
Robbie and I didn't mess about and got straight into the sump, ferrying through the bailout bottles and the drytube and we were ready for the next days diving.
Can't ride, won't ride.
I think the last time I rode a bike, honestly, was probably age 9. I had a boys black BMX that was indestructible and I would fly up and down the hill beside my Dad's house with no fear at all.
Then he left the country and that was the last time I saw him – and the last time I ever rode a bike.
They say you never forget. I’d like to offer definitive and conclusive evidence to the contrary!
Most people give me a funny look when I tell them I used to be a jockey. Definitive and conclusive evidence below in case you still need convincing.
It was my dream career and whilst I didn’t win the Grand National (but am super delighted that Rachael Blackmore has!) I was, for a short time, a professional sportswoman.
Roll on 20 years and the ability to spend the same on a bottle of wine as I did once on my weekly food shop, has piled on not just pounds, but stones.
I was heading for a car crash. Without burning thousands of calories every single day, riding up to 5 racehorses a morning and all the hard physical graft looking after them entailed, I couldn’t maintain my weight nor my figure.
My second ride over fences, on board Clashbridane
Buying a house, a long term relationship and everything that comes with being ‘comfortable’ led to the point where I would avoid certain caving trips I once loved and dreaded black tie events as I no longer owned any nice clothes that fitted me.
I spiralled into further self-destruction – the more I hated myself the more I harmed myself by eating and drinking.
I continued to run, sometimes doing 5ks every other week. I continued to cave, sometimes carrying my KISS rebreather through boulder hopping caves. My back hurt, my knees hurt, my stiff necks and migraines became the norm.
But I was getting away with it all on experience and I knew soon, it would catch up with me.
The diving support vessel Boka Atlantis is my second home these days. The gym is not the best and most of the gym bunnies on board struggle with it.
I’ve used the treadmill and done circuits but exercising on a moving boat is always awkward. The food is amazing so the excuses just kept on coming.
I did eat carefully on one trip and managed to lose a stone. But I was still dangerously overweight and as soon as I got home, it went straight back on.
In the early spring I was contacted by a tv company to be filmed exploring a cave abroad. I wasn’t overly keen as it looked a bit gimmicky, but after some research I decided I could probably move some things around and make it work. It seemed the only thing I needed to do was get an HSE diving medical.
Panic set in. My BMI was ridiculous. Even as a jockey it hovered around 27 owing to the muscle I was carrying. You need to be strong to ride racehorses and I had never been a waif.
I was talking to one of our saturation divers one day and, feeling beaten, moaned that I had to choose which leg to cut off in order to pass my HSE medical as there was no way I could meet the BMI standard in just under 7 weeks.
He said; “I’ll help you”.
I had already decided I was beyond help. I had given up and everyone had also given up on me. Besides nobody was brave enough – nor stupid enough – to tell me I needed to sort myself out.
“You need to trust me”.
I figured anyone brainless enough to tell me to look in the mirror and tell myself that ‘that’ was no longer acceptable was on some sort of suicide mission anyway and I let him talk me into the most ridiculous eating and exercise regime ever. I more than halved my calorie intake and hit the watt bike every damn day.
I lost 7 lbs in the first week.
I kept going and the weight just kept falling off. I was getting stronger, I had a spring in my step and a smile on my face and everyone on board were confused and perplexed.
What was happening to the medic? And where had the rest of her gone?
I had bought a cheap, crappy second hand mountain bike to get me going at home. I spent the grey, mizzly winter lockdown days re-learning to ride it.
I couldn’t get up the short hill at the back of our village without stopping at least three times. Then it was two.
I came back from my six week trip on Atlantis and bossed my HSE medical – right at the point the tv company pulled the plug, blaming covid, quarantine, you name it…
But I didn’t care. I’d done it. But I still had a long way to go and still do.
I went straight up the hill at the back of our village without stopping and just couldn’t believe it!
Buying bikes, even new ones, is fraught after the lockdown boom. Added to the fact that factories were struggling anyway, never mind with the increased demand and I was having difficulty getting anything suitable in my size.
£2000 later and one Orro gravel bike had joined the family. It was lightweight, small and twitchy but I fell in love with it and even braved Burrington Combe – twice!
It’s funny how you only know what you know. I can ride a racehorse but could barely ride a bike. I can build and service a rebreather but couldn’t change a bike tyre.
I had been riding on my own pretty much to save myself from inevitable humiliation. I still make a hash of junctions and I cannot do roundabouts. Traffic scares me and quarry lorries are just assholes. Despite all that, I lost another stone.
My new steed
So, it is with this lack of knowledge and no benefit of experience at all, that I did something really stupid.
I entered the Great Weston ride on 18th July. 57 miles.
The furthest I have cycled is 30 miles and I ached for days afterwards.
I’m going to raise money for the official charity of the event, Prostate Cancer UK and use my skills as a trustee for another UK charity to raise some funds.
Those of you who know me know that I am a determined little madam – but this is a big stretch for me. I’ve only been riding a bike for 6 months and have no clue what I am doing.
The Great Weston
Knightstone, the evening before the Great Weston Ride
We did it!!
Trust me to do my first ever Sportive on the hottest day of the year!
What an incredible, amazing event and SO well organised. A big hats off must go to Darren who seems to monitor social media and his emails in his sleep. Seriously great service!
Between you, you all raised £681 for Prostate Cancer UK.
I chose this charity over my own because it was the official charity of the event, plus I spend all of my working life offshore surrounded by men. And they are rubbish at talking about this sort of thing.
I was so grateful to my friend Jayme, a serious cyclist who was more than happy to join me all the way. I love riding with Jayme. There is no competition, no macho, no ego...she rides with me for fun and we chit chat the whole way. She encourages me and is kind to me even when I'm not doing so well. I'm so glad she was there.
Great Weston Ride route
Our first stop was at the bottom of Burrington but...the queue for water was huge and actually, we had plenty so we kept going. I was devastated that there was no ice cream van at the top of Burrington Combe so we stopped a little further on for a diet coke break.
I was gutted not to have finished in under 4 hours, but given it was the furthest I had ever ridden by about 17 miles...and the first time I had ever ridden in any heat, I was just pleased to have finished at all. Thank you once again to everyone who sponsored me!
"I don't want one of your stupid plant pots!"
Ally Mitchell is a deep sea saturation diver come ocean advocate. He was on a salvage job in Scotland when he became involved with a stricken vessel full of millions of plastic pieces. He pocketed a few and took them home, wondering if he could create a way of turning them into something more useful, profitable and keep them out of landfill.
When he heard about a whale that had been found washed up with a huge amount of plastic in its stomach, he was compelled to do something on a much larger scale.
By sheer luck, I met Ally as he was a saturation diver on the offshore Dive Support Vessel, Boka Atlantis, where I work as a dive medic.
Ally was desperate to get out of the 'bin' and have his medical as he was excited about his new venture, Ocean Plastic Pots. He knew I was involved in recovering lost fishing nets or 'ghost gear' and we got our heads together to try and work together.
Ally was keen to come and learn to be a Ghost Fishing UK diver himself and after some head scratching over diaries, we found some dates that worked in the North.
Boka Atlantis
We based the course at St Abbs, where fortuitously another diver medic and ex commercial diver, Danny Wright, had just bought a house and dive boat operation.
It seemed a perfect location to run the 3 day Ghost Fishing UK course.
Also joining us was a well know figure in the world of technical diving; Garry Dallas. Affectionately known in the industry as 'Sidemount Bob' Garry had a good reputation and is a thoroughly nice bloke too. He had been knocking on the door of Ghost Fishing UK for years, keen to do something proactive for the ocean and we let him in.
The third student was a lovely chap called Alan Paice who lived locally in Dunbar.
A tidy diver with a strong safety and team diving ethos, he was a doddle to train and a pleasure to have along.
His local knowledge and spare kit also came in extremely handy!
Ally, Christine, Danny, Garry, Alan.
Day 1 and the North east weather was sending brown waves over the harbour wall. This wasn't good. My bailout plan for the course was always Capernwray quarry in Lancashire but that was a real nuisance for everyone to up sticks and move. Plus, we had a smashing B&B in St Abbs with Danny and his wife Sally at St Abbs Charters.
Alan knew of a quarry somewhat closer that was deep enough for what we needed and had little enough visibility to provide a challenge!
Each diver had their own challenges to overcome. Ally had done hundreds of dives to silly depths in excess of 100 metres, but in a completely different style which was alien to how we do things. He had to analyse his own gas, plan his own dives and obtain neutral buoyancy pretty quickly.
Fortunately, he is a very fast learner and by the final day was hungry to learn how to flipper backwards and was doing out of gas, neutrally buoyant ascents on an SMB and a long hose. I was chuffed with him.
Garry was a senior instructor in several disciplines so his biggest challenge was to become part of a team again - something he appeared to enjoy.
Alan had not done that much 'working' underwater so he got stuck in with cutting, lifting and managing ghost gear for the first time.
The team progressed rapidly and it was a pleasure to invite Ally to deliver a talk on plastic recycling and the hurdles he had to overcome from pollutants to red tape.
Ally hunts for treasure in the harbour bins…
A visit to St Abbs harbour part way through the course seemed apt and it wasn't long before Glaswegian Ally had his face in a rubbish bin, picking out old fishing gear scraps and telling us all about their properties, recyclability (or not) and what he could do with them.
To learn more about Ocean Plastic Pots, check out a recent blog from Ghost Fishing UK. You can also grab your Christmas gifts now from the website.
Follow Garry Dallas on his first mission with the northern team at Ghost Fishing UK HERE
Alan, Ally, Christine, Garry
Our favourite things: Ocean Plastic Pot; Paralenz dive camera; Halcyon Dive Systems SMB.
Offshore Life - A Man's World?
In 2016 I made the decision to leave the NHS full time and embark on an ambition I'd long held to work offshore.
I can't really tell you why I found it appealing. I guess I just like to do cool stuff that not many people get to do. And as a side effect, stuff that not many women do.
How I travel to work
When I was a teenager I remember a tv series called 'Roughnecks'.
It was a bit cringey but at the time I thought it looked definitely interesting. While I was still working in horse racing, I started studying Geosciences with the Open University and started exploring different work avenues. That all got put aside though when I got into the ambulance service, so now I'm still offshore but in a different role - Offshore Medic.
The North Sea
The number of women working offshore in the energy industry is still pitifully low - just 4%. It's quite normal for me to be the only woman on a vessel or platform and as a rule, out of 100 people on board, only 4 or 5 will be women and most of those will be in admin or domestic roles.
I have met a couple of women who had slightly fancier roles, such as ROV pilot Charlotte Cunningham to took some awesome images of the Normand Clipper with her drone. And I have encountered project engineers and roughnecks who are women. There are several female offshore medics but this seems to be the only role where numbers are on the increase.
I have never encountered any issues offshore being female and it is actually a very pleasant, uncomplicated environment.
Dive Support Vessel: Bibby Polaris
Towards the end of 2017 I got the job I had wanted for a long while - dive medic on a DSV, Bibby Polaris.
This involved doing medicals for saturation divers who lived in dive chambers for up to a month at a time and spent most of that time at depths between 90 and 110 metres.
It takes them around 4 days to come back to ambient pressure again and as well as looking after the vessel crew and contractors, I'm also there to manage any problems the divers may have.
Early this year (2018) I was keen to get onto a production platform. My opportunity came in March when I was sent to Norwich (no change out of a 6 hour drive) to fly to the Indefatigable field and join the 23 Alpha gas production platform. It was my first flight in an offshore helicopter and I felt a real knot in my stomach and an overwhelming sense of excitement, relief, who knows...but it had been my ambition for so long and now here I was, all dressed up in my survival suit and life jacket with EBS (Emergency Breathing System) walking out in among a full compliment of guys (no girls on this flight) and stepping onto the chopper.
The sea was like glass and was sparkling. We flew in glorious sunshine over huge wind farms and the various vessels down below left white streaks of wake behind them.
I strained to see out of the window to see the platform come into view.
Nope, not ours....next one.... The helicopters often do several pick ups from neighbouring platforms so I had to wait for our turn.
The chopper slows down to a crawl on the approach and the helideck crew surround the helicopter ready to pounce if something goes wrong. I located my bags and an old gentleman kindly took one of them down the stairs for me. I thought this was just a bit of old fashioned chivalry and didn't mind...until I realised I was the only one with two bags! I had to keep one hand free for the hand rail so it was good to know I was an equal!
I loved my time on Inde 23A and the guys had been on there a long time and were super friendly and helpful.
It was a bit of an HSE role as well as medical so I muddled through what I could. On my last day the OIM (platform boss) sprang an 'Emergency' drill on us and myself and the first aid and fire team were heading over to the middle platform to deal with an injury following a gas leak.
It was good fun and I was sad to leave.
I appeared to be up and running and as my ambulance shifts got fewer and fewer, my job opportunities offshore increased. I did a short stint on a 'Walk to Work' vessel Island Condor, which acted as accommodation for several platforms in the south North Sea.
I then headed off on a horse riding holiday in Morocco to take a well earned break, before boarding the Normand Clipper and then heading to the platform 'Brae Bravo' for Marathon Oil.
I'm thoroughly enjoying the offshore life and am always amazed at how different the environmental concerns are now to several decades ago. The oil and gas industry is now making hug efforts to be as clean as possible, many with 'zero discharge' policies and many of the vessels I have been on have been designated the some of the cleanest in the world.
I was fascinated when watching the ROV tvs at the amount of sea life homing in on the wells and the rig jackets. on one platform, the jacket (steel support legs) had 30 years worth of hard coral growth and was basically now a coral reef. The life down there was incredible.
Claymore Alpha platform and my current workplace, Seven Kestrel for Subsea 7.
As we speak, I am on board the well known Claymore platform in the North Sea, having just finished a week on a Semi-Submersible exploration vessel. The food is fantastic and I'm made to feel very welcome. I'm in the gym every day which is something I just couldn't do when I was working in excess of 12 hour shifts on the ambulances.
Not long now til I'm back on dry land and back in the water! If that makes sense....
It's been a busy summer and there is still plenty on my to do list. Stay tuned for more, including our most recent cave diving exploration.
Life on the Ocean Wave
This is my new office.
Several hundred nautical miles from land, somewhere between Shetland and Norway, my medical bay is quiet.
I can’t hear any radios screeching for ambulances to clear, no controllers watching my every move, no drunks rolling in their own vomit – alcohol is not allowed offshore.
I’m on board the Olympic Areas, a spanking new ‘multi purpose’ vessel designed for the oil and gas industry. She’s a Norwegian vessel and I’m enjoying the copious amounts of salmon for lunch – and dinner. Having left full time employment in the NHS early in 2017 and trained for over a year as an Offshore Medic and Diver Medic, the opportunity came quickly to leave dry land and head out to the oil rigs of the Thistle Field.
View from my office
I was flown to Aberdeen by business, my hair grew long, I ate some fantastic food and the 80+ crew on board were super polite and a pleasure to be around. This is just as well as I was on board for 5 weeks!
Thistle Alpha lit up at night.
Life on board can be quite comfortable! Once I had passed all my offshore courses I received a lovely good luck gift from the B&B I was staying at, in Aberdeen. I also had a half way delivery from Helen on MV Valhalla with some creature comforts delivered to Lerwick port call! A wonderful start to a new career.
The Woman from Atlantis
Work over winter had been somewhat sporadic. I was enjoying the freedom of locum work, being able to wherever, whenever I pleased but financially it was tough.
In May I was offered a trip on the Boka Atlantis. It was a huge dive vessel and I was back in my comfort zone, as medical cover for not only the crew but the divers in saturation too.
They were diving and living at depths around 100 metres. When not doing ‘bell runs’ they live in cramped conditions in the saturation chambers and their every move is monitored. Food is ‘blown in’ through the hatch and even the toilets are flushed for them by the Life Support Supervisors.
They breathe high percentages of helium in a mix called heliox and talking to them on the comms is like communicating with a very high-pitched Donald Duck.
Luckily, I speak helium so communicating with them is fairly straightforward.
Things can manifest quickly at over 10 atmospheres of pressure and their health and hygiene is taken very seriously.
I do their medicals before they go into the chamber for up to 28 days and again when they come out to make sure all is well.
In addition to this, I manage the day to day running of the hospital on board and run training sessions weekly for both the first aid team and the divers covering all sorts from cannulation, Advanced Life Support and catheterisation to basic first aid and stretcher drills for the marine crew.
It is a busy friendly vessel and it looked like I would be spending the foreseeable future on board.
To get a feel for what it is like for divers on board a DSV (Diving Support Vessel) the documentary film 'Last Breath' is a true story about a saturation diver's brush with death when it all went a bit wrong on the DSV Topaz. Available now on Netflix.
Some of the guys in the film now work on the Atlantis and it really does bring it home that this is a serious game we are in out there.