There are not many UK dives where you can actually see the wreck from the surface. Depending on the state of the tide, the keel of the small 471 ton sand dredger Hoveringham actually breaks the surface, but with the 7 metre tidal range of the Menai Straits it also disappears a few metres below at high water.
That is the case today, there is no metal sticking out, though from the deck of MV Quest, skipper Scott Waterman points out the ripples in the otherwise smooth water as the current washes across the wreck. Completely contrary to the violent tidal race on 28 January 1971 in Puffin Sound which caused the Hoveringham to spring a leak and subsequently sink on the Anglesey side of the Menai Straits.
As part of the pre-dive briefing Scott manoeuvres the boat closer alongside the wreck so we can look down and see the port side of the keel, though we actually jump in a few metres further out from the wreck - he doesn't want anyone bumping themselves on it.
I hit the water and surface, looking back to see Scott pointing to the west. A few fin strokes and I can see the wreck and descend, a step in the side from the deck to the hold coaming is covered in fat and well fed plumose anemones.
The current is washing in from the north, just a gentle 1 knot or so that is easily ignored now I am in contact with the wreck and gaining some shelter from it. I drop further down, below the coaming and into the hold.
Rather than continue to the seabed I now ascend inside the wreck. The surface comes at a depth of 3 metres, a big triangular air pocket trapped inside the wreck by the ascending tide. Unlike many air pockets, the air inside the Hoveringham is relatively safe to breathe, though it does smell a bit of stale marine life.
I descend again, working my way down and forwards within the hold, exiting just aft of the focsle where a stairway ascends from the main deck through a rectangular cut. Immediately above the forward mast provides a triangular swim through between the mast and the gravel and silt seabed.
At first I think I have managed to snag something, my fin doesn't want to move. Then it frees only to snag again. Now through the gap I turn to see a seal having a gentle chew on my right fin.
Caught out at the game it coyly retreats and I turn to move a little up against a current now that I am no longer sheltered by the wreck. Finding a section of railing to hold on to I turn and wave my fins above me. Not a particularly elegant position for a diver to be in, but it seems to do the job with the seal who approaches again and gives me that mischievous puppy grin while shyly admiring my fins.
We repeat the game a few more times before the seal departs to play with some other divers and I move on to have a look at the anchor winch and bow. Like all of the wreck, it is covered in white and orange plumose anemones.
I drift easily with the current back to the stern, along the seabed at just 8 metres. The Hoveringham has one long unbroken hold before a stern mast and small wheelhouse at the stern. More cabins are inside the raised quarterdeck, some broken crokery visible through an intact steel porthole.
I suspect that the Hoverigham has been a fun introduction to wreck diving for many a trainee diver from this part of the country. It's sheltered, shallow, colourful and intact. On the minus side there are the currents of the Menai Straight to contend with. Though shallow it is also quite an enjoyable dive for more experienced divers, nevertheless I suspect many would grow tired of it after the first few dives.